New York, three days later…

“So what do you think?” Sky asked after sipping from her cocktail. “Do you like your beer? They brew it here, in Brooklyn. Everything is locally sourced. The chili peppers too.”

The beer was awful. If the brewer was the same guy who’d served it, the one with a weird knot in his hair, a greased Dali-style moustache, and suspenders, it was no wonder. Making something look old didn’t mean it was good. Sometimes it was just plain crap.

Arriving in New York that morning, they’d spent most of their time in Manhattan, where Sky obviously felt most comfortable. Then they’d been summoned by her sister to East Harlem, or El Barrio, as Lola called it. Logan must have passed whatever test that had been, because he’d made it out of Lola’s flat alive and in one piece.

At the moment they were in Brooklyn—hipster hell or heaven, depending on your perspective. Now he knew what she had meant when she said that people in NoName were a shaggy, impoverished version of hipsters. He wasn’t too convinced; he’d seen extremely old-fashioned haircuts on horribly dressed men tapping on typewriters in the parks. How they dragged around those heavy-as-fuck, impractical machines that made the Enigma decoder look like an iPad was a mystery. One of the EMP preppers had the same model, and it required three men to move it from his car to the compound.

“Where to now?” Logan asked.

Sky in her world was a sight to behold. She was like a kid in a candy store—running from place to place, high on sugar, unable to decide what to eat next, and stuffing all of it in her mouth at once.

“We need to head back to Manhattan, base of corporate fashion,” she declared. “To the department store where I used to work. There’s something I have to discuss with my former boss.”

“What?”

“Nothing important. Just taking care of some loose ends I left when I quit.”

She was lying again. She’d been doing quite a lot of that lately, being withdrawn and secretive, but he let it slide. Which irritated the living crap out of him, really.

Logan had always been a straightforward guy. Deception was just delaying pain, and he had no use for that. Better to get it over with, whatever it was. Now he was too afraid of what he’d find if he forced her to open that door.

He paid their tab—an exorbitant one for a shitty “artisanal” beer, a cocktail, and a couple of stuffed, locally sourced chili peppers, probably grown in goat shit on the roof of some building. Then they left the beer hall or bodega or whatever hipsters called a plain and simple bar.

They took the subway, trying to navigate the mass of people hurrying around.

“You don’t like it here, do you?” she asked, probably catching his frown.

“Not particularly, no. Too many people, too impersonal. Even the boroughs have something fake about them.”

“What do you mean?”

“Who the fuck needs suspenders when his pants are that tight? Or a long mustache he has to roll in grease every five minutes to make it stay in place?”

“Still hung up on the brewer?” She smirked. “It’s just fashion. A statement. They’re into noncorporate entrepreneurial practices. You preppers should value that. There’s no one more alternative than you.”

“It’s fake. There’s more ‘real’ on Main Street in my prepper land than in all your Brooklyn.”

“The Whyte’s sea views were real.”

“Right,” he grunted. “The price tag on them and that ice cream they served us were quite real too. I think the bill equaled Minnesota’s budget for a month.”

Sky laughed. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Exaggerating? I went to the men’s room and they charged me separately for the toilet paper. I think they charged me for the water I flushed with too.”

She laughed some more. God, he loved seeing her laugh. The way she squeezed his hand and leaned on his shoulder, or threw her head back when she really let it rip. He’d follow her to the ends of the earth if that meant keeping her by his side, laughing or frowning. Hell, even yelling. It didn’t matter.

“Don’t undervalue toilet paper, Alchemist,” she said as they hit the street again. “It’s the number one prepper necessity.”

True. Nothing like having to wipe your ass with leaves to make you hate the apocalypse.

They walked for a couple of blocks before she stopped. “Here it is,” she said, motioning toward a famous department store. “Base of New York corporate fashion and my home away from home for the past four years.”

They stepped into an elevator marked for personnel only. “So this is where you worked,” Logan said, looking around as the doors opened. They were on the top floor. Gowns and couture were displayed all over. Every big name was represented.

“Yes.” She pointed at an office at the far end, decorated all in glass. A skeleton of a woman, wearing a black power suit, was sitting in a transparent chair. “That’s Doreen, my ex-boss.”

“You want me to wait for you?”

“I don’t know how long it will take. I have an appointment, but she’ll make me wait, just on principle.”

Of course. One needed to show who was in charge. Logan remembered that very well from his corporate life. He shrugged. “I’m not in a hurry. I can use the time to check my notes for the award gala.”

“Not too keen on that either, are you?’” she asked, reading his expression perfectly.

“I’ll survive.”

“Indeed you will. I’ll make sure of it.” She kissed him and shooed him away. “Go. Enjoy the city. See you back at the hotel.”

* * *

“I think I haven’t understood you,” Doreen said, pursing her meticulously Botoxed lips. “When you contacted me to arrange a meeting and said you were calling in all favors, I assumed you wanted to beg for your old job back. Or for me to put a good word in with the store in France. After you wasted my previous efforts, I might add. This request is a surprise.”

“Yes. I guess it is.” Sky glanced around. Doreen’s office hadn’t changed a bit. Correction: it had in one respect. There was no Sky running errands up and down. In her place was another eager girl whom Sky didn’t envy in the least.

“If I do this for you, we are even, Sky. Do you understand what that means?”

“Perfectly.”

Doreen intertwined her fingers. “Tiallino’s wedding dress was the jewel of Bridal Fashion Week. What makes you think I can get that dress? You know very well that runway gowns have a long life. Trade shows, trunk shows, editorials, advertising… By now, those pieces have been sent out to magazines all over the world.”

“If anyone can get it, it’s you.” Doreen was a bitch of a boss, but she was the best at her job. She would not have let Tiallino’s masterpiece slip by her.

“Tiallino is very peculiar,” Doreen went on. “He has that particular dress on display at his showroom.”

“We both know he’s too cautious to have only one.” The one-of-a-kind mentality didn’t go well with Tiallino’s all-that-can-go-wrong-will-go-wrong outlook on life.

Doreen nodded. “He’s kept the original, but made several more.” The pieces that had been sent out for editorial purposes would eventually be sold at a sample sale, but that wouldn’t happen until the end of the season. Sky didn’t have that kind of time. Or the kind of money to buy a custom copy.

“What do you want with it? Are you getting married? That military style isn’t you at all.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for a friend. Her wedding is in a few weeks, so I need it as soon as possible.” Runway clothes were sized for models. Megan was tall and skinny, but she wasn’t over six feet tall and under a hundred pounds. Alterations would have to be made for her body shape.

“I can’t promise you anything. There’s a reception tonight with some of the most influential fashion editors. Maybe you could come. Work your magic once more for me. You might meet some very useful people.”

“Sorry, I can’t. I have a previous engagement.”

Doreen’s eyebrows lifted. “More important?”

“Yes, more important.” She’d promised Logan she would be at the award gala. He’d been with her the whole day, humoring her everywhere she’d dragged him to. He didn’t like big cities, but he hadn’t complained except in jest. Had it been up to him, he would have flown to New York just in time for the event, not many hours ahead. The least she could do was be there to support him.

“You’ve changed,” Doreen mused, her gaze scrutinizing.

Sky shrugged. “I guess I have.”

“Are you sure it’s worth it to lose all the leverage you’ve gained on a dress for someone else?”

“Yes.”

“I must admit I was amused when I heard you’d ended up in the wilds of Minnesota. What are you going to do once you return from fashion exile? Are you going to try Paris again? The real Paris, not redneck-land.”

Doreen was being mean on purpose. Minneapolis held Fashion Week Minnesota, after all. Minneapolis was nowhere near her town of preppers, but Sky was not telling her ex-boss about that.

“I’m not returning. This is just a visit.”

Doreen studied her for a long second, then curtly nodded. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I do.”

* * *

“We’re going to be late, Butterfly.” Logan straightened his tie and paced up and down the hotel room, fidgeting. He hated these events. The clothes too. They felt constrictive. Mingling and networking weren’t his scene. That had been more his ex’s style.

“Coming, coming.”

When Sky made it out of the bathroom, Logan’s jaw all but dropped to the floor. She looked so fucking beautiful with her fiery hair cascading over her shoulders and that black dress hugging her curves. A celebrity on the red carpet would have nothing on her.

“You like it?” she asked, turning around slowly, her expression, of all things, unsure.

“No. Not at all.”

She glanced at herself. “Really? I thought this—”

He pulled her flush to him and took her mouth, long and deep, holding her firmly against him. “I love it, babe. You’re gorgeous.”

Her lips were shiny, her eyes sparkled, and her smile brightened up her face even more. Fuck, she glowed.

He gave her a once-over. Her dress had the deepest neckline he’d ever seen, halfway down to her belly button. Jesus Christ. “Forget the gala. Let’s stay in the room.” He was so hard he was going to injure himself if he tried to walk.

Her husky chuckle made him even harder. “We can’t. You have some public relations to do. We need to get your grants and awards.”

She looked him over in turn and cocked an eyebrow.

“Anything to say?” His ex would have hit the roof and found a way to force him to change. She’d done it for a decade. But he’d had enough of trying to please women. Not anymore.

“You’re wearing formal attire and work boots.”

“And you want me to change into black leather shoes.”

She paused, then shook her head. “You wear whatever you want to wear. It’s your show.”

His chest tightened. He hadn’t expected that answer. He captured her mouth again for another all-consuming kiss.

“Fuck the award,” he growled against her lips. “I’d rather stay here, making love to you.”

Visibly flustered, she took a step away from him. “Sorry, no can do. I’m taped up.”

“What do you mean, taped up?”

She gestured at her chest. “How do you think boobs stay in place without anything holding them up?” She moved the dress strap to the side, revealing a strip of light brown tape placed vertically from under her breast up to her shoulder. “Adhesive tape. That’s what makes this cleavage so kickass. The downside? It takes a while to remove.”

Adhesive tape? He caressed her nipples, but before he could ask, she added, “I have cotton pads protecting them. I learned the first time around. Big, big ouch.”

God, she was hilarious. Made for him: dressed-to-kill, stuck-up bitch on the outside, funny and caring on the inside.

“Stop touching them,” she whispered, flushed, and yet not moving away. “You’re making me hot and my boobs will start aching. No space for my nipples to harden.”

Kissing her throat, he glided his hand between her breasts, to her belly button, and down.

“No access there either,” she said tightly. “I’m wearing a body shaper.”

He flung his head forward, shaking it, and chuckled. “You’re wrapped up like a Christmas present.”

“You’ll get to unwrap it after the gala, I promise. If you still want me after helping me yank the adhesive tape and hearing me shriek and swear like a sailor.”

“I will always want you,” he said, grabbing her hand and placing it on his groin.

She squeezed his cock, and his body pressed against her of its own volition. He had to get a grip on himself or he was going to come in his pants, just from her touch. But when he tried to put distance between them, Sky didn’t let him.

“Babe, not helping,” he pleaded, holding her hand still. “Give me a second to get the beast under control.”

She kneeled in front of him. “I can do something about that.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, trying to get her to stand up. A fast fuck against the wall he could handle, maybe, but he was feeling too raw at the moment to have her on her knees, pleasuring him.

“I know I don’t have to. I want to. Big difference.” She opened his zipper and nuzzled his throbbing hard-on.

“We’ll mess your makeup.” And her hair, because he wasn’t going to be able to keep his hands away.

His cock sprang at the ready, and she flicked her tongue over the tip. “Let’s see how this shade of lipstick looks like around the base of your dick, shall we?”

Fuck. At her words, it jerked, the crown leaking. “Butterfly, wait. Oh fuck,” he grunted as she grabbed his cock with both hands and fastened her mouth around the head, the intense heat almost making him spill.

He was too big for her, but she didn’t desist, working his shaft. Raking her teeth lightly over the crown and lapping at his slit. She pulled him to the back of her throat and then released him slowly while Logan gritted his teeth. “Too good, baby.”

He clutched the dresser behind him and locked his knees, afraid they were going to give way if he didn’t. Very manly. His woman was giving him a blowjob, and his fucking legs were trembling.

Mouth and hands, she lavished him with attention, taking him deep and closing her throat on him. She kept him there for a long, torturous moment, the pressure making his balls boil with the imperious need to come, until she eased her grip and pulled off, licking him. Running her sweet tongue along his engorged veins.

Unable to stop himself, he sank his hands into her hair, the silky strands sliding between his fingers. She looked up. Fuck, those big, dark eyes were glazed with desire, those slick red lips stretching around his dick, those hollowed cheeks sucking the living shit out of him. He was going to lose it.

He tugged at her head. “Baby, if you don’t want me spilling in your mouth, you need to stop right now.”

She ignored his words and held on, not letting him retreat. And not easing up either. He was going to come. He couldn’t stop himself or push her away.

“Fuck. I’m coming.” Keeping her head firmly against him, he exploded, spurting in her mouth while she swallowed his cum, milking the last drop from him.

When he opened his eyes, he was still standing. Thank fucking God for the dresser behind him, or he would have found his ass on the floor.

She stood up. He brought her to him and hugged her. “Are you okay?” she whispered.

A half-strangled sound came from him. “Not sure, Butterfly.” He cupped her face and kissed her. “I messed up your lipstick.” Her hair was blowsy and her lips were puffy. He didn’t want anyone else seeing her like this. This was only for him.

“It was worth it,” she said with a smile and looked down at his groin. “This shade of lipstick does look good on you.”

Logan leaned his forehead against hers. “Sky, we need to talk.” They were running out of time. Her internship in Paris was nearly over. He couldn’t bear the thought of her leaving. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“Maybe we can do something about that. Let’s talk about it after the gala. I have a surprise for you.”

“Let’s talk after the gala,” he repeated, kissing her softly on the lips. He was going to tell her he loved her and ask her to stay with him. And pray really hard she’d say yes.

After a short visit to the bathroom to freshen up, she came out perfectly composed, not a sign of the wanton sex goddess who a moment ago had had him at her mercy, trembling and gasping.

“And now to impress your future benefactors.” She took the invitation from the table. “Dr. and Mrs. Logan Nolting. I’ve attended many high-profile events, but this is the first time I’ve impersonated the wife of the married man I’m screwing.”

“The separated man you are screwing,” he corrected, embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the fuckup. I hadn’t mentioned the separation, and with Vivienne interfering over and over, they assumed—”

“It’s fine,” she said with a soft smile. “I don’t mind. It has a nice ring to it.”

* * *

Logan took a flute of champagne and drank it off in one shot. Award dinners, the joy of his life. As far as he was concerned, he’d rather get the results by mail, thank you very much, instead of having to spend a whole evening making small talk and being slowly choked to death by his own tie. Too bad he was working for a university and dependent on outside funding. They had been there for an hour, and it felt like thousand.

He grabbed another flute of champagne.

“Exquisite champagne, isn’t it?” he heard a man say beside him.

Logan gave a curt smile. “I’m more of a beer man myself.” He’d have preferred one of Adam’s Batmans over a hundred glasses of this expensive champagne, but he guessed most of the attendees would have dropped dead before drinking something made from old bread.

“Your lady is something else.”

Logan looked directly at the newcomer for the first time. It was Eric, the titan of DiaperWorld, the one who wanted to get Logan onboard so the company could boast an ecological stamp of approval and thereby sell more diapers.

“Yes, she is.” Sky and Logan had mingled together at first, but soon enough they had found themselves in separate conversations. She was too beautiful and knew too well how to navigate this sort of party to be tied to him every minute. He was just the nerd working with shit in a lab.

“I’ve been talking to her. Fascinating mind.”

Right. Sky’s mind was indeed fascinating, but Eric hardly cared. The bastard had done the rounds, chatting with everyone, giving extra attention to the benefactors with the biggest jewelry. Sky was jewelry-less, but still he’d gone back to her on several occasions.

“All the conversations I had with her were very productive. I’m very pleased to hear that you’d be open to relocating to our office in New York for the right price.”

Logan almost choked on the champagne. “What?”

“It’s a logical move,” Eric continued. “You can do a better job from here. PR-wise, I mean. I know you’ve been extremely reticent in the past, but I’m happy we’ve reached an agreement in principle. I commend you for holding to your position. A man needs to know his own value.”

Logan couldn’t make sense of the man’s ranting. His own mind had gone haywire at the word relocation. “Who told you I would be open to relocate?”

Eric pointed at Sky. “You’ll make it far with her by your side.”

Logan’s heart twisted. Fuck, he couldn’t breathe.

She’d been playing him.

* * *

Logan came straight at her and, with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, addressed the lady Sky had been talking to. “Excuse us.”

He pulled Sky to the dance floor. “Having fun?”

There was something in his gaze she didn’t recognize. He looked unapproachable and angry. Cold angry.

“A bit tired of standing, but this outfit doesn’t allow sitting. Or eating. I’m hungry as hell,” she said. He didn’t smile or kiss her or respond in any way she was accustomed to. He continued dancing, his grip on her harder than normal. “Champagne has kept me on my feet. By now I’m more than wobbly. Even so, yes, I’m having fun.”

“I bet you are.”

His sharp tone startled her. But he’d been tense about the event, so she decided to cut him some slack and ignore it. “You look dashing,” she said, brushing her hand over his beard.

Logan moved his head away. “Been talking with many people, have you?”

“Sure. That was the idea. Logan, are you okay?” He’d told her how much he hated to network. Maybe he’d reached his boiling point. “You want to leave? They still have to announce the winner.”

He ignored her, his eyes ablaze. “That was your plan, wasn’t it? Your surprise.”

“What?”

“You told Eric from DiaperWorld that for the right price, I was ready to relocate to New York. Did you negotiate a commission for yourself too?”

“What? No!”

His voice was hard, the vein at his temple pulsing. She’d never seen him like this. “No commission? Oh, poor you. Well, I guess you thought you’d get enough out of keeping me by your side. And don’t tell me you did it for me. For us. I’ve heard all that before.”

Confused and totally overwhelmed, Sky tried to stop dancing, but Logan didn’t allow it. “What the hell are you talking about? I would never suggest anything like that. I know you don’t want to relocate.”

His expression contorted with barely repressed rage. “Give it up, sweetheart. Eric told me.”

“And you believe him?”

“He doesn’t have a reason to lie.”

“I don’t have a reason to lie either.” She’d spoken with the guy, several times, and yes, it was true she hadn’t paid him close attention, but she would have remembered if they’d talked about Logan relocating.

Sky looked around, searching for Eric. This was a misunderstanding they had to clarify before too many ugly and hurtful things were said.

“That was why you took me all over the city today, right? Trying to soften me up. Showing me your favorite spots.”

“I showed you around because I’m happy being with you, not because I was trying to sell you the place.”

“No, I guess trying to sell me the place happened later on, in the room, on your knees. You must have thought I was a moron, falling apart when you sucked my cock. Such an easy mark.”

That stopped her dead in her tracks. “How dare you—”

“Keep dancing, sweetheart,” he hissed, pulling her roughly against him. “You wouldn’t want to cause a scene. After all, you have me where you want me. Pussy whipped. Too busy falling in love to see I’m again falling headfirst into someone else’s vagenda. Did I say the word properly? You taught it to me. See, I learn. Late, but I learn.”

Fury of her own came to her rescue. Catching him by surprise, she managed to wrench away from him and shoved him with both hands. “I don’t give a shit about making a scene. It’s not me who’s hoping to get grants.” As luck would have it, they had danced themselves into a corner, so there weren’t too many people around. Not that she cared at that point. “How dare you suggest what you’re suggesting? I don’t need you for anything. I can stand on my own two feet. I came here to help your ass.”

His lips drew into a thin line. “And I guess meeting with your ex-boss was also for my benefit—not to ask for your old job back, now that we’re relocating.”

Sky’s heart hurt so badly, she fought to breathe. “You’re right about that. I didn’t go to see Doreen for your benefit. Let me see if I understand you correctly. You’re saying I conspired behind your back to convince you to move to New York, where I’ve been angling to get my old job back and all the while manipulating you with sex? Is that what you’re saying? This was the surprise you thought I had for you?”

“I’m curious,” he went on, crossing his arms over his chest. “How were you going to sell me Eric’s deal? More of that fantastic on-your-knees work? Or were you hoping he’d send the contract my way and the big paycheck would somehow sway my opinion? With a bit of help from you, of course.”

Oh God. Sky couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Fuck you, Logan.” She turned around and, as gracefully as the dress allowed, which wasn’t very, she ran away.

She tried to hold back her tears until she was out the door. She didn’t succeed.