Page 33 of Red Velvet

I jump up from my chair. It's like my body’s moving on its own, heading for the bathroom and slipping inside, sighing in relief that there's no one else around. I hide in one of the stalls and pull up my skirt, my fingers shaking as I activate the camera function on my phone.

I can't believe I'm actually doing this.

I twist and turn, trying to find an angle that captures the artwork he left on my behind. I’ve never taken a photo of my ass before. I've never been asked to do such a thing, and I never thought I'd obey if someone demanded it.

But here I am, my heart galloping with excitement as I follow his naughty order.

And I'm loving it. A subtle pulsation throughout my core says more than any amount of words ever could. Once again my body is ahead of my mind, reveling in this unthinkable deed.

One minutethe message on my phone reads when I move it up to my face again.

Shit. I have to hurry.

I swipe through the many, many pictures I took, selecting the two I like the best, and send them back to him just after another message pops up.

Thirty seconds.

I made it. With time to spare. A proud smile spreads across my face, mixing with the feeble arousal at knowing I've pleased him. The certainty embraces me like a warm hug, bringing me unfamiliar joy.

And that feeling only amplifies when I read his response. Two words, as simple as they come, but so overwhelmingly powerful.

Good girl.

I never thought two simple words could taste so sweet.

Chapter 17

Kade

When I was asked to show up at my family's downtown residence for Sunday dinner, I thought it was just a simple get-together with my parents, who I haven't seen in weeks. And as nice and homey as that may sound, it's not. It never is in the Armitage household.

I was prepared for passive-aggressive comments regarding my recent sale and the idea I'm currently working on. My family doesn't get me, but they know me well enough to understand that I'm always working on something, always grinding at another project, a new idea that will occupy my head until that first enticing spark has lost its flavor.

And they always want to know about it, despite their understanding of my nature. I never grow my ideas into the gigantic projects they could become, always selling them long before that happens, giving someone else the chance to grow them to their full potential, much to the dismay of my brother and father.

I made myself pretty clear the last time I spoke to Greg, but I don't expect him to leave it at that. He never does. He may be willing to let go of that last business I sold, but I'm sure he'll try anything within his power to convince me to handle the next one differently. He and my father will both go on and on about it, trying to squeeze every last ounce of information out of me so they can give me unwanted advice on how to proceed with my young project.

I'm ready. I know it's coming, and I'm prepared for it.

That's why I'm all the more surprised when my father isn’t the one waiting for me in the reception room. My parents don't actually live in this house—they just use it to entertain guests, even their own sons—but I've never been here without either one of them around. Tonight is the first time.

Instead, I'm welcomed by my brother and a young man's face that is neither completely unknown nor closely familiar. It takes me a moment or two to place the man, but I realize his identity just before my brother formerly introduces him.

"You remember Damon Graves," he says, displaying his most formal and somewhat distant smile.

"Of course," I say, gritting my teeth as I shake the man's hand. "Mr. Graves."

"Damon will do," he responds, his expression equally as tense as mine. "You were a guest at my wedding."

It's not an actual question, but the way he emphasizes his statement makes it clear that he has trouble remembering seeing me that night. It's apparent that neither of us left a lasting impression on the other.

"All right, Damon," I agree as we let go of each other's hand. "Call me Kade, then."

He nods, still lacking a smile on his symmetric face.

I wonder why he's looking at me like that. Why is he so tense? Did my brother ambush him with this dinner invitation? What is this even all about? Why is he here?

"Dad not coming tonight?" I ask, turning to my brother who's standing next to me, the only person in the room with a smile on his face.

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