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And Brendan? He looked like a wax figure next to his brother. Smiling calmly, not a hair out of place, his arm slung around Ian’s shoulders like they just happened to be caught in a casual moment.
Ian had put his heart and soul into every single game, from the time they were kids.
What did that feel like?
Maybe Sonia was right, Brendan thought. Maybe he didn’t have a heart. Sports were satisfying, sure. But giving himself up so completely to a game? Or aperson?Just thinking about it sent an unfamiliar thrill of panic through him.
He remembered the helplessness in his dream as Sonia tied him up on the train, how unbelievably hard he got.
A red scratch on his wrist caught his attention, and he drew his fingertip over it slowly.
Her doing, of course.
When he closed his eyes, Ian was looking at him skeptically.
I’m not going to call her,Brendan insisted.
You do that, ’kay? Just keep pretending she didn’t get under your skin.
At five o’clock, his phone rang. In a typical office, everyone would be closing their laptops and heading out the door. Here, the staff was gearing up for the next few hours with a tall cup of coffee.
Grabbing the phone, he swiped the unfamiliar number, his attention on a conversation just outside his cube.
“Brendan O’Brian speaking.” There was a pause. “Hello?”
“You know what you need, Brendan?”
The voice was husky and feminine. No greeting. No identification.
Sonia’s voice.
His throat went dry, and he swallowed. He could think of a lot of things. Sex. A vacation. Sleeping for a week.
“What do I need?”
“Me.”
She spoke with so much confidence, it left him speechless.
“You told me on Saturday to have a nice life,” he said evenly, cupping his hand over the phone. “I didn't expect you to show up in it again.”
“I didn't either,” Sonia said briskly. “But I’ve been thinking about you. When have you ever been direct? When have you ever asked for — hell,insisted— on what you want, without seducing, charming, or manipulating your way into it?””
Her raspy words seized him by the balls. He took a deep breath. “Sonia, I'm at work.”
“Exactly,” she said, like this proved everything. “Another late night, I bet. How long are you working? Twelve hours? Fourteen hours? Diana mentioned that.”
“Oh, did she.” He glanced out the opening in his cubicle, keeping his voice low. “What are you offering me here?”
“I’m offering myself. Take it or leave it.”
Brendan stood up and strolled out of his cube, aiming for nonchalance. “Give me a minute.” His tone came out rougher than he intended.
“All the time you need.” Laughter edged her voice.
Skipping the elevator, he took the stairs to the main atrium and hurried out to the bustling street. The early evening sun beat down, saturating his dark suit. Immediately, he felt like he needed to shower.
Rounding the corner, Brendan backed into the shadow of the nearest building and spoke in an undertone.
