AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Goodbye, princess.”
26
It had been three days since Skylar left Julian’s penthouse, and she’d had no contact from him. She told herself it didn’t matter.Hedidn’t matter. But she lied.
Every time her phone beeped or buzzed or dinged or chirped or rang, all she could think was that Julian had sent a text. Left a voicemail. Emailed her. Something—anythingfrom him. It scared the shit out of her that she was practically leaping to grab her phone every time it made a noise to see if it was finally him. And it scared her even more that every time it wasn’t Julian, she’d grown more and more disappointed.
He really had given up on her.
She’d been more trouble than it was worth.
That’s why he’d, in much more polite terms, told her to take the second chance she’d offered him and shove it.
Only she could admit to herself now she wanted that second chance. Even though he’d once again overwhelmed her with his sensual touch and his dirty talk, even though she’d pulled away and shut down, even though she’d played unfairly and refused to let herself come because she was too afraid, not just of the bodily sensations she was feeling but of the emotions that Julian was making her feel, too, even though she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t do that again and again and again, she didn’t care.
Even having Julian like that, feeling the build of pleasure that made her soar and then feeling the pain when she couldn’t let the pressure release, was so much better than what she’d experienced with any man before. It was selfish of her, and she knew it, but so long as he continued to offer it, she would take it.
Only he wasn’t offering it any longer.
She needed to accept that whatever twisted game they’d both been playing, it was over. Yet, as she stepped out of the doors of Embrette, headed to the subway the evening of the Third Day Without Julian, she still eagerly scrolled through her phone’s messages. As she clambered down the stairs along with the jostling crowd, she found only texts about lunch meetings and gossip about the new front office receptionist, emails about HR paperwork and stock trends, and one missed call from Hardy Priese’s personal assistant, Kim.
Sadness settled inside her, bone deep.
She listened to the voicemail from Kim as she waited for the cross signal.
“Hey, Skylar, it’s Kim. Mr. Priese’s meeting in uptown lasted too long for him to get back to the office. He wants to go over the monthly projections with you tonight and asked for me to get you and the documents over to Quintella’s. He’s on his way there. You’ll need to get the hard copy before you go to the restaurant—I have it here at my desk. Okay, bye.”
“Fuck,” she cursed as she slipped her phone back into her purse.
Of course, her boss would wait until he knew she was already out of the office before asking her to bring a two-hundred-page report of numbers and tables to a restaurant across town. Hardy’s resentment that a woman had risen to where she was in the company was obvious to all. Any chance he could take to make a woman—and especially her—look bad, he’d take it. No matter how low and petty. Resignedly, she turned back to the office to pick up the report and requested an Uber to drive her over to the restaurant.
Once in the Uber, the heavy binder on her lap, she couldn’t resist checking her phone again for a message from Julian. Nothing. She blew a sharp breath out and shoved her phone into her purse.
That’s the last time you’re checking if he’s reached out. He’s obviously moved on, Skylar!
Regret twisted in her chest, but she told herself it could never have gone any other way. Even if he’d made her come, Julian would have left, and she’d be in the unfortunate position of watching the one man who could make her orgasm walk away from her. The articles and mentions of his name online told the tale: Julian was used to a woman of a certain caliber. Of social prominence. She was certain that as an escort, he’d charged exorbitant fees far exceeding the five figures Rex had paid for the Masquerade Party. And Julian was a multi-millionaire. One seen with models. Actresses. Socialites.
She wasn’t special. Not unique. She’d put those two attempts to make her come on the table for Julian. He’d grabbed one of those tries, but she wasn’t worthy of another.
Rex had realized that, eventually. Every time he came without her coming, she’d assured him it was fine. She was fine. But her lack of ability to climax wore on him. Grated on his male ego, just like all her previous lovers before him. She could see the change in him over time, and soon the emotional wedge that had been driven between them was almost visible. One night, after coming on her stomach, he told her it was like fucking a sex doll. A pretty thing with soft, warm openings but no fire. No passion. No equitable response. Not even worthy of his time to fuck.
Was that how Julian now felt?
The thought pulled a sound of dismay from her.
“What was that?” the Uber driver asked.
She cleared her throat. “Oh, nothing. Sorry.” She shook her head at the Uber driver, who returned his attention to the crowded street and the shitty music on his playlist.
This was good. Just like she’d experienced a sense of renewal after leaving Rex, she could focus on more important things now that Julian was out of her life.
Just because she couldn’t name those more “important things” at that moment didn’t mean she was wrong.
“Ma’am?”
She blinked, realizing the driver had pulled over, stopped, and was waiting for her to get out. Quickly she added a tip to the app, exited the car, and entered the restaurant. No more thinking of Julian. From now on, she’d put that odd and unique and heady and thrilling experience behind her. Time to focus on work.
The host helped her slip out of her jacket, then carried the heavy binder for her as he led her through the exclusive Italian restaurant toward Hardy’s favorite table in the back. But she stopped in her tracks when she saw Hardy wasn’t alone at his table.
