Sinful Rewards 11 Read Online Free PDF

mom?”
    I frown. She asked a similar question yesterday. “I’m going to a fancy ball tonight.”
    “Ahhh . . . ”
    What does that noise mean? “Mom, do you know something I should?”
    “Yes. No. Maybe.” Her voice fills with panic. “I have to go.”
    “Mom.” I’m talking to air. She’s ended the call. My lips twist. My mom is a horrible liar, even worse than I am. I tap my phone’s case. She knows something and she doesn’t want me to find out.
    I call her back. She doesn’t answer. Can she answer? Do throwaway phones accept incoming calls? I could ask Hawke for his parents’ number. I chew on the inside of my cheek. No, I won’t do that. She’s fine. I’m fine. There’s no need to bother them.
    My phone hums again. I gaze down at the small screen. Nicolas has sent me an article on attending charity balls.
    I skim over the words. The writers advise to eat before I attend and to wear comfortable shoes, as I will be spending the night standing. I wiggle my wounded toe.
    There are also tips to deal with crowds. Crowds , I repeat silently. Being average-sized, I don’t deal well with masses of people. The last crush of heaving, sweating humanity almost trampled me.
    Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m pressing Hawke’s number.
    He answers on the first ring.
    “What’s wrong?” The concern in his voice unleashes the butterflies in my stomach.
    “Nothing is wrong,” I assure my overprotective man. “Will there be a crowd at tonight’s ball? I sent the invitations. There weren’t that many people invited.”
    “You sent the invitations for the high-net-worth guests.” Hawke points out the flaw in my reasoning. “They’ll pack as many people as they can into the venue. It’s a security nightmare.”
    Voices murmur in the background.
    “I don’t care if the guest is the president of the United States,” he snaps. “Everyone entering the building gets screened by one of our men.”
    “The chair won’t approve that directive, sir.” Dawg’s reply is barely audible.
    “If the chair wants our clients to attend and donate, he will.” The dominance in Hawke’s tone tightens my nipples. “This is an unusual situation calling for unusual precautions.”
    “Has something happened?” Will he tell me I can’t go to the ball?
    “Nothing has happened and nothing will happen.” He is adamant.
    I’m still attending the ball. My disappointment confuses me. This is a fancy event, a once-in-a-lifetime experience. I’ll be the envy of everyone, arriving in a designer gown on the arm of Chicago’s most eligible bachelor. I’d be an idiot not to want to attend this ball.
    “Do you need me, Belinda?”
    “Yes,” I answer without thinking. I always need him. “I mean . . . ” Oh hell, I don’t know what I mean or what I want. “You’re busy. I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
    “Tell me what you want and I’ll get it.” Hawke sounds eager, as though he also wants to escape, to have a reason to see me.
    “Ummm . . . ” I search my brain for an excuse, any excuse. “I haven’t received any texts from Friendly this morning.” This is the first thing I think of.
    Hawke hesitates and I cringe, certain I’ve made a mistake. He has work to do, preparations for tonight to oversee, and I’m distracting him with trivial matters, asking him to bring my erotic fantasies to life.
    “Do you want to receive a text from Friendly?” he finally asks.
    “I’m wet, hot, empty.” I rub one of my hands over my skirt. “So empty.” I lift the hem, hook my fingers in the waistband of my panties, and draw them down to my knees. “I’m bare under my skirt.”
    “You weren’t bare this morning.” Hawke’s voice deepens and I smile, knowing he wants this as much as I do. “You were wearing a tiny slip of white silk.”
    “I’m not wearing that now.” I step out of the circle of delicate fabric. “I don’t want any barriers between us, don’t want any delay in having you, to feel you