Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I swallowed a healthy gulp of caffeine and carried the mug with me to the other room where a haughty-looking, matte-black bag was tied with a big red bow. Inside was a card and a box. I slipped the note from the envelope first and read, Happy birthday, beautiful. I can’t wait to fuck you with only this on.
Miles peered over my shoulder. “That’s hot.”
I pulled the card against my chest. “Nosy.”
“Open the damn gift already.”
I shook my head as I slipped the black box from the bag and flipped it open. Inside was a stunning choker with three strands of pearls connected to a large, diamond-encrusted sapphire clasp. The center stone had to be fifteen carats.
“Holy crap.” Miles gawked. “Is that…a collar?”
“What do you mean a collar?”
“It’s a necklace a Dom gives his submissive. It’s usually a leather choker or some shit.”
“Oh my God, really?”
Miles nodded. “I’m pretty sure it means you belong to him.”
I ran my finger over the sparkling sapphire. “Do you think this is real? The color is incredible.”
“It’s definitely real. I researched the store the minute Nestor handed me the bag. It’s high end. Most of their stuff is one-of-a-kind pieces. They don’t sell costume jewelry.”
I lifted the necklace from the box for a closer look. “It’s really beautiful.”
Miles smirked. “Good thing you got a rich Dom, because the leather ones you see in the window of adult stores are pretty damn tacky.”
I laughed. “I really don’t think it’s meant to be a collar. He bought me a pearl anklet too. The thought behind the pearls is actually really sweet.”
“Would it bother you if that’s what it was meant to be?”
I thought about it. I was crazy about the man. Not to mention, I was more than satisfied with how things were between Jagger and me in the bedroom. Plus, if I belonged to him, that meant he belonged to me. I shook my head. “I think I already belong to him, Miles.”
A few hours later, my best friend and I were heading out for brunch when the doorman stopped me. “I just tried to call you, Ms. Holland. You got another delivery from a messenger.”
“Oh?”
Nestor reached into a drawer and pulled out an envelope, extending it to me.
“Thank you.”
He tipped his hat. “Have a good day.”
“You, too.”
Miles wiggled his brows as he opened the door for us. “Another gift from your master?”
I turned the envelope over, expecting to see my mother or Jagger’s handwriting. But I froze with one foot out the door when I realized it wasn’t from either of them.
“Oh my God.” My heart pounded in my chest. “Miles, it’s a birthday card from him.”
***
Detective Wallace yanked up his pants by the front buckle as he paced in my living room. “So this is the first contact he’s made in six years?”
Miles reached over and covered my hands with his, stopping them from twisting and wringing. I hadn’t even realized I was doing it. “Thanks,” I whispered before turning my attention to the detective I hadn’t seen in years. “The last time he sent me anything was a card on my nineteenth birthday.”
“Why do you think he made contact again after all this time?”
I shook my head. “Maybe because I’m back in New York for my birthday? I moved out to California to go to school six years ago this fall.”
“But the cards stopped coming when you left?”
I looked to my mother, who had showed up an hour ago even though I’d told her she didn’t have to. “Mom? Did they really stop, or did you just tell me they did so I wouldn’t get upset?”
She shook her head. “They really stopped coming. I don’t live here anymore, but I did for more than a year after Sutton left while my husband and I did renovations to his place, and no card came. Plus, I sometimes still get mail here and the doormen just hold on to it. Nothing’s come.”
Detective Wallace scribbled some notes in his flip-top pad. “So if he knew you weren’t living here, this guy has likely been tracking you all this time.”
A chill ran down my spine. “But how? How does he know I’m back?”
“I don’t know.” Detective Wallace pulled something that looked like a tweezer from his pocket and used it to pick up the card. “Hopefully he left some DNA on this so we can find out.”
“What is she supposed to do?” my mother asked. “Sit here and wait for him to show up one day? What have the police done in the last six years to catch this man?”
“It’s still an open investigation, ma’am. But there isn’t much we can do without new evidence. Now we have some. We’ll also have the security video footage pulled from the lobby and see if that gives us anything.”