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“Are you going to tie me up tonight?” she asks, sounding anxious but excited. “Like in the book?”
“Maybe,” I say. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
She looks around the room. “It’s different here. So bare. Do you have another room? Like in Fifty Shades of Grey?”
I chuckle. “Never read it.”
“Oh.”
“I think what you’re asking me is whether I have a dungeon in this penthouse. The answer is no.”
“Oh. Then where—”
“Quiet,” I say harshly. “Your questions will be answered, but they’ll be answered on my time.”
I move to my briefcase sitting on one of the chairs in the bedroom. I open it and pull something out. Then I turn back to her, holding a black velvet case. I open it.
She gasps.
It’s a diamond choker from the nineteen twenties. It’s set in white gold and has just over seven carats of VVS-clarity round-cut diamonds.
I picked it up in the Diamond District recently. When I saw it in the display window of a small shop called Gray & Davis, I knew it belonged to Skye.
Beautiful in its simplicity.
I imagine placing it around Skye’s creamy neck—collaring her.
God, collaring her.
I’ve never collared a woman, other than on a scene-by-scene basis. If I take a woman into my club, she’s under my protection, so I collar her. But it’s a temporary collar for the club only, so that others will know not to approach her.
But already I know this gorgeous choker belongs to Skye. Whether it becomes a collar in the future or not, it’s already hers.
“Kneel before me, Skye.”
Her eyes pop open into circles.
“Kneel before me,” I say again. “I’m going to collar you.”
“But I—”
“This is for your own protection.”
“Braden, I—”
“I said kneel!”
She drops to her knees in front of me. “May I speak?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand,” she says. “I don’t know a lot about this lifestyle, but doesn’t a collar mean that…?”
“That you’re my property? Yes, it does.”
“But we haven’t discussed this.”
“I know that. It’s for tonight only. As I said, it’s for your protection.” I place the choker around her neck, my fingers burning.
Fiery and raw emotion settles over me. She’s mine. All mine. The choker will protect her at the club, but whether I end up collaring her for life or not, one thing is already true.
Skye Manning is mine.
Will we be together forever? That’s still an unknown, but none of that changes the simple fact that Skye is mine.
Whether we’re together or not. Whether she’s collared or not.
She’s mine.
She inhales sharply.
“This is temporary, Skye,” I say. “You may rise.”
She stands and meets my gaze. “Temporary?”
“You begged me to introduce you to my lifestyle, and I will, but I cannot do so without adequately protecting you. By wearing my collar, you are off-limits to anyone else. You belong to me, and no one else will touch you.”
“No one else? What do you mean? Why would anyone else be in our bedroom?”
“Because we’re not staying here, Skye. We’re going to a club.”
She stiffens. “I can’t go out in public wearing this.”
She’s funny, my Skye. Does she really think I’d let her leave the penthouse and go out wearing nothing but a corset? For all to see?
I walk to the closet and pull out a black trench coat. “This will adequately cover you. And don’t worry. We aren’t going far.”
“What will you wear?”
I’m still dressed in my suit.
“You’ll see.” I walk back into the closet, closing the door behind me this time.
In the privacy of my closet, I remove my suit and reach for a simple pair of black pants. My normal attire at the club is black pants, leather shoes, and a certain black shirt that is crafted of a cotton blend that includes peppermint fibers. It’s cooling against my skin, which is very exciting when I’m burning at the club. Alas, that shirt is in Boston, because it’s my favorite and I don’t reserve it only for the club. I should have a few others made.
If things work out the way I hope they will with Skye, I’ll need them.
Tonight, though, rather than wear a different shirt, I decide to go bare chested. Then I cover myself in another black trench coat and leave the closet.
“Are you ready, Skye?” I ask.
She swallows. Then she nods.
“I need to hear you answer affirmatively.”
“Yes, Braden,” she says. “I’m ready.”
We walk out of my living quarters and through my makeshift office, which is now empty—a massive change from the night we got here.
“Where is everyone?” Skye asks.
“I sent them all home,” I say.
“Does that mean your business is concluded?”
“My business is never concluded. It simply means they’re working elsewhere.”
“But why—”
“Enough questions, Skye. I don’t think anything I tell you can adequately prepare you for what you’ll experience tonight, so I’ve made the decision to take you in blind.”
“Blind?”
“Not literally. I won’t blindfold you. In fact, I want all your senses on alert tonight. I want you to take in everything. Only then will you be able to tell me truthfully what you think afterward.” I slide a card through the device to call the elevator.
