Page 158 of For the Sub

When Brandy awakened at nine, the house was quiet, and she felt surprisingly good and more than a bit guilty at having slept while Margot and John had gone to work.

Last night, after a second glass of wine, Brandy had spilled everything, all the details about her time with Niles and the fact she’d refused to scene with anyone else once she’d returned to the Den.

Embarrassingly, Brandy was afraid she’d told Margot all about the triskelion necklace and its meaning—at least two or three times.

She owed Margot—big time—for her patience.

After tidying up the living room and washing the wineglasses and the bowls they’d used for homemade chocolate silk pie, Brandy drove home.

She’d spent years working a tight schedule, juggling the Den while building her other business.

And now the absence of a defined schedule left her aimless.

Margot’s offer of a job inserted itself in her musings.

Waiting tables would give her purpose and force her to get out of bed, but the idea of getting up at the same time she now often went to sleep made her cringe.

Later that day, restless after walking the dogs and getting food for the lizards, she returned to work on a client’s social media.

Surprisingly, she’d received an email from Master Damien, outlining the things he’d like to see in a proposal from her.

He’d signed the email in a cordial way and said how much he was looking forward to seeing her soon.

“Not likely,” she muttered.

MW jumped up and ran over, as if Brandy had spoken to him.

After petting the mutt, she tossed his already half-destroyed toy foot, then she moved Master Damien’s email to a pending folder so she didn’t have to look at it.

Tomorrow was soon enough to respond.

Which meant the only remaining project was the draft of Master Niles’s new website.

Thinking of him, she sat back in her chair, staring unseeingly at the screen in front of her.

Had he really decided to sell his company?

And if so, did it have anything to do with her?

Telling herself she was being ridiculous as well as fantastical, she forced herself to start working.

Since she no longer had to keep to a specific schedule—which was good as well as bad—she stayed up all night and sent him a beta version of the website before going to bed.

After she woke up, she checked her email every five minutes to see if he’d replied.

When he didn’t get back to her right away, her imagination supplied a dozen different reasons why. Maybe he’d grown tired of waiting and hired someone else. Maybe he’d taken a willing woman on vacation with him. Maybe they went to Belize, like his aunt had.

“Stop,” she told herself, getting up to pace the floor.

Her mind was out of control.

Gregorio had told her that Master Niles wasn’t shooting videos at the Den anymore. So suddenly that meant he’d sought out a random submissive and jetted off for sun and surf?

What’s wrong with me?

For the first time since she’d walked away from him a month ago, she wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t left.

What if she’d stayed and talked, like he’d wanted?

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