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He’d cupped her face, his hand resting there a moment longer than professionally necessary. “You like being the show.”
She’d blushed, said goodbye, and hadn’t booked with him for a while.
Throwing down the blankets, she slid into cool silk sheets, grabbed her phone and scrolled through the pictures.
While she knew it was a risk, her phone could be hacked, and the pics posted online, her one request was that she be photographed during the sessions.
She blushed, suddenly realizing Nick had all the pictures from her phone. What would he do if he found them?
Maybe he wouldn’t look. She licked her lips, a thrill charging her blood. Perhaps I want him to. She scrolled through the pictures, blushing as she looked at herself with fresh welts across her shoulders, her ass, and her legs.
She looked at the expression on her face as she looked over her shoulder at the camera as if it was proof she obtained the peace she sought with these sessions.
Her hand slid under the waistband of her shorts, her fingers inching over to her clit. Circling her clit she wondered how Nick would be, wielding a flogger.
Or a cane.
She scoffed to herself.
He might think she was sweet and innocent while she wondered if he would like to be the show with her.
Closing her eyes, her fingers working over her clit, just the way she liked, her body convulsed as she remembered the feel of his kiss on her lips and drifted to sleep.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN – NICK
Nick shifted on the couch, hunched over a prototype of Laurent Industries’ supersonic, the sleek laptop they would roll out in two months.
After an hour of pacing the living room and tossing on the couch, he’d given up on the prospect of sleep. He wasn’t getting any tonight. Though he’d rather be in his tech room, he wanted to stay close to Mulberry.
Every moment of the gala played through his mind, like a movie in fast forward, and each frame featured Mulberry, pausing on her smile or laughing at something his Maman said.
He remembered how she smiled at Henri and was patient and gracious to everyone who stopped and talked to them.
Every journalist and media member respected her boundaries after that first slip, and Nick put on his best fake smile as he answered questions about their relationship.
Mulberry leaned into him and redirected the conversation back to Laurent Industries.
She knew how to play the part of the girlfriend.
Not just any girlfriend, a girlfriend that would be acceptable to his family.
It felt too damn deal.
And the luscious feel of her lips on his, that was real.
Never had he kissed like that, as if his whole soul was expressing how it felt and not just for one passing night.
But then her pinched lips, her drawn brows, as he set the boundary he shouldn’t have broken, flared, and he reminded himself she was a spoiled, stuck-up rich girl.
He’d met hundreds of those. It’s why he didn’t date.
He sighed, tapping the screen of the supersonic machine to start playing the footage from the security camera.
He had watched it a year and a half ago, weeks after they had rescued Mulberry.
And he had played it at least twenty times tonight, but there had to be something they were missing, and if they could figure out who was behind her kidnapping, then there might be a clue of who was behind the break-in now.
Like Xander, he didn’t think they were two separate, unconnected incidents.
