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“What’s this about, honey? Has something happened?”
I can’t tell her. Not on a prison phone. The lines are monitored, and it’s too risky for me to so much as mention Rodney Coyle’s name, let alone what he’s demanding of me.
But even more than that, I don’t want to burden my mother with the knowledge.
She’s got enough to deal with.
She’s carried too many burdens for me in her life already.
“Avery,” she whispers. “Please tell me you’re okay. Please tell me you’re safe.”
I close my eyes, feeling selfish for my call now. I needed to hear her voice, but now I’ve made her anxious. I’m scaring her, when that’s the last thing I want to do.
“I’m okay, Momma. Everything’s just fine.” I force a lightness into my voice that I don’t really feel. “You just get better, all right? I’ll talk to you again soon, I promise.”
Chapter 9
I take the subway home from the studio that afternoon, even though Nick seems less than enthused by the idea when I text him to tell him my plans. As appreciative as I am of his concern for me, I need him to understand that I also enjoy my freedom. And besides, the last thing I want to do is alienate my new friends by rolling in and out of the studio in a chauffeured sedan.
I know Nick doesn’t like it, but he relents on the condition that I text him when I leave the studio, then call when I arrive back at Park Place.
As I wander through the empty penthouse, dropping my purse and stepping out of my shoes, I dial his cell. He picks up immediately.
“Right on time,” he says by way of greeting. “Good girl.”
My mouth curves at his maddeningly authoritative, confident tone. “Satisfied, Mr. Baine?”
“Not yet, but let’s work on that.” His voice is dark with meaning, and I feel it all the way to my core. “I’m taking you out for dinner tonight. Can you be ready in an hour?”
“Sure. Where are we going?”
He hesitates a moment. “Someplace we haven’t been before. I’ll be waiting downstairs to pick you up in one hour.”
“I can hardly wait.”
In spite of the heaviness I’m still carrying with me after my brief conversation with my mom a few hours ago, I can’t deny my excitement at the prospect of being with Nick. I shower and dress quickly, slipping into a simple black wrap dress that falls just above my knees and ties at the waist. Strappy black heels complete the look, then, on impulse, I go to the top drawer of the bureau in the bedroom and retrieve the long string of pearls that were a gift from Nick.
The creamy gems are cool within my cleavage, and so richly lustrous there is no need for any other jewelry. I can’t wear them without recalling how wickedly Nick made use of them the night he gave them to me. Draped around my neck now, the long rope slides sensually against my skin with each step I take out of the apartment and down the elevator to the lobby.
As promised, Nick is waiting for me.
Standing just inside the building’s entrance, he’s talking with Manny as I cross the gleaming marble and head toward them. He’s wearing the black suit he had on when he left for the office this morning, but his dark hair looks soft and slightly damp from a recent shower, and the hint of a beard that usually shadows his face by evening has been whisked away with a razor. He’s so handsome and commanding, so profoundly male, my knees threaten to give out beneath me.
Nick sees my slight falter. He knows the effect he has on me and during our time together I’ve learned that it’s pointless to try to pretend I’m not entirely taken with him. Even more powerful is the fact that he seems just as caught up in me. His expression is so wolfish, so unwavering, it’s all I can do to keep my gait steady when his hot, appraising stare is licking fire through my senses and making the world tilt on its axis.
I nod at Manny, and he offers me a beaming smile. “Good evening, Miss Avery.”
“Stunning,” Nick says, looking at me as though Manny and the other dozen or so people in the lobby no longer exist. “Shall we?”
Manny gets the door for us and Nick leads me out to his black BMW M6 that’s idling beneath the porte cochère. He waves off Manny’s help at the car, smoothly opening the passenger door for me, then halting me so he can press a fleeting kiss to my cheek.
“The pearls were a perfect choice,” he murmurs beside my ear. “I’ll be envisioning you naked wearing nothing else but that strand all night.”
I tremble at the suggestion, because now I’ll be strung tight in anticipation, longing for the moment when Nick will make that vision a reality for us.
I’m half tempted to plead with him that we skip dinner and stay in instead, but his hand is firm and intent at the small of my back, so I climb into the car and wait as he closes the door then walks around to the driver’s side.
“Busy day?” I ask, once he’s seated and we’re both buckled in.
