Page 143 of For the Sub

When he remained silent, she explained herself. “The longer we spend together, the harder it will be to say goodbye.”

Fuck.

“When I get home, the pets will need some attention, and I have to get myself ready to go to the Den. I have deadlines this week. Also, I didn’t get through as much laundry as I’d hoped before I left Granby last week. And…”

And…

A million excuses.

No reasons. Just excuses. “I get it.”

Keeping distance between them, she added, “Thank you, Sir. I had a wonderful weekend. I’ve never been spoiled like this. It was amazing.”

“You deserve it, Brandy, and so much more. We’ll have to do it again.”

“Reality intrudes.” Purposefully, she’d sidestepped a direct answer.

Which, he supposed, was an answer in itself. Even if he didn’t want to hear it.

“It’s time for the coach to turn back into a pumpkin, and for the chores to be done.”

There was so much more he wanted to say, should say.

But he couldn’t.

Instead, he called the driver then put on shoes while she slipped into her suede boots and gathered her toiletries from the counter in his bathroom.

All too soon, they were outside, where the vehicle was waiting.

Niles placed her luggage in the back before walking with her to the door that the driver was standing near.

With a tiny wave, she gave him a fragile smile.

“Let me know when you get home?”

“I’ve got a ton of things to accomplish before I go to work,” she hedged.

Goddamn it.

He scowled. “I’d appreciate a telephone call to let me know you’re safe.”

“I’m sure your driver is competent. And you’d be the first to know if something out of the ordinary should happen.”

That he couldn’t argue with.

“I will send you an email when I have something to show you on your website, though.”

Her continued, false smile pissed him off. “Is there a reason you’re refusing to talk to me?”

Her smile faded, and she gripped the handle of her purse. “Of course there is.”

“Of course?” What the hell does that mean?

If she’d grabbed a battering ram and knocked him in the head, he couldn’t have been less prepared for her answer.

He’d expected her to politely demure, insisting everything was fine.

But always, Brandy—his Brandy—was unfailingly honest.

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