Sinful Rewards 10 Read Free Page B

something to say about that.” I laugh.
    â€œI wouldn’t want to upset your mom.” Jacob chuckles. “Your secret admirer sent you another package.” He holds out a large brown box.
    I stare at the delivery, confused. Friendly couldn’t have sent me a reward. Yes, I completed yesterday’s challenge but, during this sexual show, I called Hawke’s name multiple times. Friendly, my mysterious texter, is Nicolas. I’m almost certain of this. My billionaire is a possessive, proud man. He wouldn’t tolerate or reward that behavior.
    â€œMiss Bee?” Jacob lifts his gray eyebrows.
    I’ll think about this later. “Thank you.” I grasp the box.
    â€œMy pleasure.” He studies me. “Are you okay?”
    I summon a smile. “I’m feeling a bit off today. I don’t know why.”
    â€œAhhh . . . ” The security guard nods. “There are quite a few paparazzi outside. That could be the reason.”
    â€œIt could be.” Has he heard the gossip? Does he know they’re waiting for me? I don’t meet his gaze. “I hope the paparazzi didn’t cause you any problems.”
    â€œNo problems at all, Miss Bee.” Jacob gives me a toothy grin. “I used the side door to the left of the elevators and bypassed the crowd.”
    â€œThat’s smart.” I note this escape route, hoping my friend won’t get into trouble for sharing it. “Have a good day.”
    â€œYou too.” Jacob waves as he walks down the hallway.
    I close the door and kneel on the floor, placing the box in front of me. My stomach flutters from uncertainty, not from fear. Nicolas would never hurt me. I know this in my soul.
    Nicolas also wouldn’t reward me. I’ve studied the handsome real estate developer for months, watched him daily, read articles on him, and have grown to consider him a close friend.
    He would never compensate me for betraying him, for calling another man’s name as I found release. I know this with the same level of certainty as I know he wouldn’t harm me.
    I jostle the box. It’s too heavy to be empty. Perhaps this is a severance gift, a memento of my sexual exploration.
    I take a deep breath, count to five, release it, and pull on the flaps.
    A piece of ivory card stock is set on top of a folded brown tissue paper. I pick up the stationery. Your Reward is written in black font.
    A chill sweeps over me.
    Nicolas isn’t Friendly. The rewards, the missions, have been sent by someone else, a stranger. Oh my God. I stare unseeingly at the bare wall. Another person has been watching me.
    Watching me. I press the card stock to my heaving chest, forcing myself to calm the hell down. That’s all he or she has done. The mysterious Friendly hasn’t touched me, hasn’t talked to me, hasn’t approached me.
    But I have been performing for a stranger. I trust Nicolas. He’s my friend. I know he won’t hurt me, won’t use my nudity for diabolical purposes. I also thought he understood me, accepted my inner freak.
    He doesn’t. Nicolas doesn’t know about my exhibitionistic tendencies, about this part of me. The person I’ve trusted with this secret is an unknown.
    The tension inside me rises once more and I fight to control it, to think rationally. All Friendly has done is look at me, I remind myself. Anyone gazing at our bedroom window could do the same.
    Needing a distraction, I part the brown tissue paper. My eyes widen. As a thank-you for performing for my unidentified texter, I’ve been sent the most beautiful gown I’ve ever seen. I remove the garment from the box, shaking the black flimsy fabric as I stand. It’s a pleated Grecian-styled gown from Prada, the length exactly right, the hem skimming the floor.
    It’ll go perfectly with the Giuseppe Zanotti T-strap sandals Friendly awarded me yesterday. I trace the draping around the low-cut bodice, the seams