Unraveled (Undone) by Jennifer Dawson Read Free Book Online

pulls away, adjusting us on the couch.
    Jillian grins at us, and shrugs. “I could just turn away.”
    Michael says, “Shut up, Jillian.”
    At the exact same time I say, “All right.”
    Leo laughs. “God, this is fun when your own relatives aren’t involved.”
    “Fuck you,” Michael says, his tone good-natured. He pinches me with no real force, his expression amused. “Behave.”
    See, I’m already feeling better. That’s the one thing I’ve learned since I’ve been with Michael. To roll with my emotions, no matter how much they irritate me. Like all things in life, once you give up the struggle, things get a lot less complicated.
    Ruby walks up to the table, looking vaguely uneasy. Chad is behind her. I smile and she gives me a halfhearted smile in return.
    I’m not sure I made the right decision asking her to come. She seems out of sorts and unhappy.
    Not at all like her normal funny, sarcastic self.
    I need to get her alone to talk to her, to make sure she’s all right. I frown and say, “You want to go to the bathroom?”
    I expect her to jump at the offer, but she shakes her head and says quietly, “I’m good.”
    Jillian however, does bound up. “I’ll go.”
    I give Michael a quick kiss and grab my bag. I look at Ruby. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?”
    Her expression tightens and she glances away to the open space behind me. “Maybe later.”
    I want to press, but turn to Michael. He gives me a smile. “We’ll take care of her.”
    I shift my attention back to Ruby. But she’s not paying attention, her face is remote and unreadable, but I know something is bothering her.
    All I can hope is that I didn’t make a mistake. And that, at some point, she’ll find the courage to talk to me.
     

 
     
     

    Jillian
     
    Layla and I hook arms and head off to the ladies’ room.
    We are causing quite a stir and as we pass, I can’t help but notice the men turning to look at us, their gazes hungry. We really do look like an angel and a devil, only you know, slutty.
    Brandon comes up behind us and puts his arms around our waists. “Come with me, you can use my private bathroom.”
    I laugh up at him, and bat my lashes. “I feel so special.”
    “That’s because you are special, baby doll.”
    Brandon calls me baby doll and Layla darling girl.
    In case you were keeping track.
    He leads us into an office, befitting of the millionaire he is, with dark wood, and a huge desk that has to be an antique. Brandon pretends to be all modern, but I suspect he’s secretly a Renaissance man, in love with all things old and beautiful. I can relate.
    I’m getting my master’s degree in fine art with an emphasis on that period, so I recognize the signs. When I’m through with school I’m going to become an art dealer, and have already started making contacts in the business. When Brandon was decorating the place I went with him to galleries all over the city and I couldn’t help but notice he was attracted to the classics. With an edge, of course.
    Behind the desk is a huge oil painting we found on one of our trips by an obscure French artist. I gasp in pleasure when I see it, absolutely floored by its beauty. I forget the bathroom and run over to it and stroke my fingers over the intricate black-and-patina scrolled frame. “Wow. Brandon, the space is perfect, it’s even more spectacular than I remember.”
    “It is. Thank you for convincing me it was exactly right,” Brandon says from behind me.
    “Who’s the artist?” Layla asks.
    “Gaston Lamar.” I stand back to marvel at the work in its entirety. It’s a nude, of a woman on a chaise, her lover in dark shadows. The only thing visible is his strong hand entwined over the delicate cords of her throat. She’s looking at him, her expression full of rapture and just a hint of fear. As soon as I saw the piece hanging there I’d known it was perfect. Not only did it have a distinct Dom/sub vibe, I wanted to sit there and stare at