Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121054 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 605(@200wpm)___ 484(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“I doubt it. You’re way more liberal than anyone could have expected you’d turn out.” Mom’s lips twisted in a wry smirk. She nodded toward the door. “Go on, go to bed. It’s been a long night.”
It was going to be a lot longer, but I think she must have suspected that, from the way she looked like she’d swallowed something yucky.
I leaned against the counter with one hand. “You should go to bed, too. Seriously, can you just enjoy living in a place where people do stuff for you, for a change?”
“I don’t want to get used to it, because it will suck when I go home.” But she folded the dishrag and rinsed her hands with glasses still in the sink.
My heart tugged in my chest. Mom hadn’t been with us that long, but now that she was here, I liked it. Not the comments on my weight or my relationship, or the way I was forced into the role of peacekeeper whenever she and my fiancé were in the same room, but after nearly a decade of not-quite-annual visits and brief phone calls, I wanted my mom back.
“You don’t have to go, you know.” I hoped I didn’t sound desperate or anything for her to stay. “I mean, your daughter is a billionaire, now. You might want to consider taking advantage of that.”
“Oh, Sophie, I don’t know.” She shook her head. “What about your grandmother? What about the rest of the family?”
“There’s no reason you couldn’t see them as often as you wanted. We’ve got a jet.” It wouldn’t be the same as living so close she could check in on her mom every day, but it was better than if she’d moved to the east coast on her own salary. “Just think about it, okay? While you’re waiting to hear from the insurance people.”
“Okay. I’ll think about it,” she conceded reluctantly. To change the subject, she covered a fake yawn with the back of her hand. “You’re right. I should go to bed. Do you work tomorrow?”
“Sadly, yes. Do you want to go into the city for the day? I think Neil is going to be at the track, so it’ll be boring around here.”
“Right, because Neil and I hang out together when you’re not here,” she said. It’s so weird to hear your own voice coming out of your mother’s mouth. She shook her head. “No, I’ve got stuff I want to do. You’ve got Netflix, for god’s sake. What more could I need?”
“You laugh, but Netflix is a gift from the gods.” I finally gave up and headed for the door. “Maybe you should spend tomorrow Googling for a hobby.”
“Good idea.” She pretended to consider. “Maybe I’ll take up knitting.”
I snorted. My mom is so not crafty. “Well, as long as you give up cleaning before the cleaning lady gets here, I’ll be happy.”
I took my earrings off as I walked down the hallway, so I didn’t immediately see that the bedroom door was open. When I looked up, the low light that spilled out gave me flutters in my stomach. I wanted to run to get down the hall faster, but I forced myself to slow my steps. With each one, I let go a little more. I wasn’t worried about my mom. I wasn’t worried about Ian and Gena, or Stephen’s book, or work or anything. By the time I closed the door behind me, my mind shed every thought that wasn’t of Neil, of Sir, and my desire to please him.
He’d repurposed some of the candles from the living room to light our bedroom. When I entered, he emerged from the closet shirtless and barefoot, a pair of padded wrist cuffs in his hands. A spreader bar already lay across the bed, cushioned in the duvet like a ring in a jewelry box.
Neil didn’t look at me as he crossed to toss the shackles on the bed. “Go and get your collar, Sophie.”
“Yes, Sir,” I said automatically, and a little thrill shot through me, like it did every time. I dropped my earrings on a table in the dressing room as I headed to the safe, where I punched in the totally immature four-digit code Neil used for everything and removed the velvet drawstring bag inside. My fingers parted the opening reverently and brushed over the cool metal. Bringing Sir my collar set off a dark pulse in my chest. My breathing slowed and deepened as I slipped the collar free. I didn’t put it on; he liked to do that himself.
His back was turned when I came back, but that didn’t take away the languid sway of my hips, or the decadent slowness with which I sank to my knees. I rested the collar on my upraised palms and kept my gaze on the floor. I didn’t make a sound to alert him. He knew I was there.