Sinful Rewards 1 by Cynthia Sax

Author:Cynthia Sax
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins

Chapter Five

I SPEND THE rest of the evening drafting my list of work initiatives. My goal was to pitch ten hire-me-or-feel-like-a-fool ideas to Mr. Peterson. With the help of the Internet, I outline fifteen.

This full-time job is mine. I grin. At least one of these ideas will please my boss. Hell, he might even upgrade the position to reflect my awesomeness. I’ll spend some of that windfall on Cyndi.

She hasn’t texted me. Not once. She usually gives me the play-by-play at the clubs, sharing quirky fashion styles, bad pickup lines, sending me stealth video clips of crazy dancers, making me laugh until my stomach hurts.

Tonight, there’s silence and I miss her. I miss her so damn much.

I fiddle with my phone, willing it to ring. Nicolas’s number is listed on my incoming call list. As a joke, I draft a text to him, linking to an article I found in a woman’s magazine. The title is “How to Be a Better Friend.”

I shouldn’t send it. I know I shouldn’t. My finger has a brain of its own, however, and presses the send key.

Two minutes later, I receive a link from him. I click on it. The article lists the top five ways to deal with an asshole. I smile and set the phone on the couch. My best friend might not be thinking of me, but my billionaire is.

I watch TV, losing myself in the runway shows, admiring the fashions I adore yet can’t afford. Some of the styles are as classic and timeless as my Salvatore Ferragamo purse. They can be worn and loved for years.

At eleven fifteen, an electronic twinkle fills the quiet, and my heart leaps. It’s Cyndi. Finally. I grab my phone and stare down at the small screen.

Friendly: Leave your curtains open. Good girls earn rewards.

The text isn’t from my best friend. Intrigue offsets my disappointment. The text was sent from a stranger, a mysterious Friendly. Is it a wrong number?

I chew on the inside of my cheek. The texter called me a good girl, as though he or she knows me, and I do close my bedroom curtains at night. Is this person watching me? I walk to the window and stare out at the night. Hawke watched me this morning.

He didn’t conceal this fact though. He openly admits to his perversion. This texter hides under an alias. I click on the username. The number is unlisted. He or she is playing a game with me.

Nicolas likes to play games. I press my lips together. And he does know my phone number. In order to see my window, the sender has to have access to the buildings or park. Security guards would bounce a stranger from these restricted spaces.

They wouldn’t question Nicolas, and he did claim he wanted to be my friend.

But he’s also a billionaire. What would he gain from seeing me in my camisole and boy shorts? He has supermodels in priceless lingerie throwing themselves at him.

I consider texting the person back. My gut says not to.

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