Page 85 of Code Name: Michelangelo

As predicted, my dad’s engagement to Hailey—or Blair—came to an abrupt end. It wasn’t something I’d learned from him, though. Instead, it popped up on a celebrity gossip site.

No doubt, he was still angry with me for blindsiding him the way I had, but I didn’t regret doing it. The Butterfly Cottage was worth it. If I’d thought it mattered to him even a little, the conversations we’d had about the property would’ve gone very differently.

Since I’d already told my mom I wouldn’t be traveling to the Bahamas for the holidays, I hadn’t told her I’d be in London. If she found out I was in New York, she’d assume I’d been there all along.

“Something has been troubling me,” Brand said an hour into the flight.

“What?”

He sighed. “Richard. In speaking with Typhon about what went down five years ago, I realized how much the man did for me. He literally saved my life, and how am I repaying him? By being an absolute douche over an inheritance literally worth billions.” He shook his head. “I find myself falling into the same mindset I swore I wouldn’t ever again.”

I got it. My parents had done so much for me financially. What I’d needed more was their love.

“Tara said your mom didn’t want you to know Richard was your father. Is that true?”

Brand nodded, his eyes downcast.

“Why don’t you try to see him? Get this off your chest and make amends with him before you have to leave for Italy.”

He raised his gaze to meet mine. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“All I ask is if you invite him to the town house, we both dress before he arrives.”

He laughed. “I’m happy to abide by your wishes in that regard. Well, any regard, really.”

I tried to stop my thoughts from drifting to what may happen to Brand in Italy. I’d prayed countless times that he’d return to me unscathed and that, then, we’d really start our life together. It wasn’t a conversation we’d had and maybe we should. Not on an airplane, though.

Since we’d left in the morning, our flight landed early afternoon. We dropped our bags at home and immediately set out to find a Christmas tree.

“What about decorations?” he asked after we’d made arrangements to have it delivered later in the day.

“Remember the hallway lined with hidden storage?”

“I do.”

“I’d guess half are filled with holiday decor.”

Brand’s eyes widened.

“All we’re doing is the tree, though,” I assured him.

I could get everything else we needed in the same area between the wine shop, bakery, produce and fish markets before returning home, where we’d both agreed to spend as much of our time as we could.

Seconds after we closed the front door behind us, Brand helped me with my coat, then lifted my sweater over my head. Before he could unfasten my bra or jeans, I moved his hands away and raced up the stairs, giggling all the way.

The frenzy continued until we were both naked. Then Brand slowed everything down.

“Get on the bed, Butterfly. On your back and spread your legs.” I watched him walk to the bureau, open the second drawer from the top, and pull out a handful of silk scarves. “I may keep you like this for days,” he said, taking one ankle, wrapping the silk around it, tying it to the bed’s footboard, then doing the same with my other leg.

He moved up my body, trailing his fingers as he went. “You need to tell me if you feel your arms or legs tingling.”

“Okay,” I whispered, too turned on to say anything else.

He held up one more scarf. “May I?”

When I nodded, he covered my eyes and tied it behind my head before securing my hands. “For now, I just want you to feel, Butterfly. Keep your mind focused on only that.”

My breath hitched, and I tried to writhe, but all I could move was my hips.

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