Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92334 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Cole: Is that why you keep looking at the camera?
I smile to myself, enjoying the edge in his texts.
Cole: You’re playing a dangerous game.
Me: I have no idea what you mean.
The three dots appear, disappear, then appear again. He’s choosing his words carefully.
Cole: You’re changing the rules.
Me: I don’t like rules. You should know that by now.
Cole: You don’t know what you’re asking for.
I shouldn’t push this further. But something about the edge in his texts makes me want to see how far I can go.
Me: Then show me.
His response is immediate this time.
Cole: Careful what you wish for. Last warning.
I hesitate, then decide to push one more time.
Me: I’m not afraid of you.
A full minute passes. Nothing. Just when I think I’ve gone too far, my phone vibrates.
Cole: You should be.
I feel my pulse in my throat as I read his words. Another text follows immediately.
Cole: I’ve been watching you. Learning what makes you tick. What makes you nervous. What you want.
My fingers hover over the screen. Is this a threat or a promise? Maybe both.
Me: And what exactly do you think I want?
Cole: Things you’re too afraid to admit. Even to yourself.
I swallow hard. He’s right, and we both know it.
Me: Try me.
I stare at my screen, shocked at my own daring. Did I really just send that? I’m practically daring him to cross the line we’ve been dancing around. There’s something about the way he watches me, the way he always seems to be in control, that turns me inside out. The good girl who always aimed to please shouldn’t take risks. Shouldn’t want this so much.
His response makes my mouth go dry: Dinner. 8pm. You’ll find what I want you to wear on your bed later. Bring your completed bracelet design as well. And Sloane? I won’t ask twice.
I grin and set my phone down. So much for getting any work done today.
Professional boundaries be damned. I’m done fighting this.
Chapter Sixteen Sloane
Tell me again why I agreed to dinner?” I hold my phone closer to my face, watching Chloe roll her eyes on the screen.
“Because you’re into him. And he’s into you. And honestly? The sexual tension is exhausting just hearing about it.”
“But the cameras—”
“The cameras that you were literally performing for this morning?” She raises an eyebrow. “The ones you admitted make you hot?”
“I’m actually looking forward to them now,” I groan, dropping my head into my hands. “What is wrong with me?”
“You’ve gone full Stockholm syndrome, and I am HERE for it.” Chloe’s grin is wicked, but it fades when she sees my expression. “What’s really bothering you?”
“I’ve worked so hard to get here.” I sink onto the edge of my bed. “Ten years of apprenticeships, studying metallurgy, learning from masters. I don’t want anyone looking at this collection and thinking I got it because I’m sleeping with the investor.”
“Stop.” Chloe leans closer to her camera. “Cole Asher has a reputation for being ruthless with his investments. You really think he’d risk millions on a jewelry line just because he wants to get laid? Please.” She rolls her eyes. “He chose you because you’re brilliant at what you do. The fact that you two can’t keep your hands off each other doesn’t change that.”
I think about the way Cole watches me work, how he asks questions about my process, the vintage pieces he keeps finding that align perfectly with what I’m trying to create.
“Hey, have you heard anything about Maya?” I try to keep my voice casual.
“No, actually. It’s weird. She hasn’t posted anything in like two weeks. A few people from Moth to the Flame are starting to ask questions.” Chloe tilts her head. “Why? Have you heard from her?”
“No, and that’s what’s bothering me. She’s never offline this long. Not even when she went to Bali last year.” I shrug, but my stomach tightens.
The silence is so unlike Maya. She’s the person who posts every day’s breakfast. Something about her silence feels wrong. Like there’s a piece of a puzzle I’m missing, and it might be important. And here I am, letting myself get distracted by hot chocolate and near kisses at Rockefeller Center, designer dresses and vintage jewelry. I’ve read enough thrillers to know how this usually ends for the girl who ignores the warning signs because she’s too caught up in the fantasy.
“Hey.” Chloe’s voice softens. “I’m sure she’s fine. Maybe she’s just doing a digital detox.”
I nod. She’s probably right, but I make a mental note to do some digging of my own.
“So stop overthinking and show me what you’re wearing.”
I turn the camera toward my bed, where another perfectly curated outfit waits. The deep blue dress catches the light, but it’s what’s beside it that makes me pause—a vintage diamond and sapphire necklace. The note underneath reads: I want to watch the diamonds rest against your throat while you remember who put them there.