“Chicago. It’s where I was raised.”
“Is that why you opened a club there? To be close to them?”
“I’ve always had a residence there, so that wasn’t the exact reason, no. But I did like the idea of spending more time there.”
The room went silent for a few minutes and I had no idea what to say to fill the void. I could tell Clarissa was on edge and I couldn’t deny that I was still shaken by the news report as well as Trent’s declaration that he intended to take us as his submissives.
“It would appear we’ve got an early day tomorrow. While I hate for the evening to end so soon, I want to be mindful of that.” Trent glanced at Clarissa as he shifted his position, setting his wineglass on the coffee table. “When you’re ready, I’ll take you home.”
I was a little surprised by this. Perhaps even disappointed. Tonight had been interesting to say the least, and I wasn’t ready for it to be over. I could’ve spent hours listening to them talk.
But when Trent had his mind set on something, he merely followed through with it. Not necessarily informing everyone else of his plans.
“Thank you for joining us this evening, boy,” Trent said to me directly. “I’ll be back shortly. Don’t wait up.”
Well, it appeared as though I’d been dismissed.
I wasn’t sure what to think about that.
TEN
Clarissa
Wednesday, August 22
I WASN’T AT ALL SURPRISED by Trent’s high-handed behavior.
Last night, as he was driving me back to my house—with Zeke in the backseat—Trent advised me there would be a car coming to take me and Zeke from my house to the airport promptly at seven thirty for a flight scheduled to leave at eight, and that I should be ready. He kindly informed me we would be sharing breakfast on the plane. Once we arrived at my house, he kissed me chastely, then allowed Zeke to walk me to my front door before he left.
While I had been pleasantly surprised that he offered to drive me home himself, I’d been equally disappointed that he had left so quickly. The evening had gone far better than I anticipated, so I felt somewhat jilted by how quickly it ended. Then again, having a bodyguard probably would’ve made things a bit awkward.
Not that I hadn’t needed the sleep. Interviews were difficult for me, and I’d needed every minute I’d had to prepare myself mentally.
The fact that I was having breakfast with Trent helped because it allowed me to wake up later and spend all my time focused on getting myself in tip-top shape for this impromptu job interview. Plus, I took a few minutes to go over my presentation for the potential client, using Zeke as a guinea pig.
I had to admit, having Zeke around wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be.
Good thing, too. Since the moment the limousine delivered me to the tarmac, I’d been a little too preoccupied with my nerves to do anything except stare. Not only because I’d been summoned by Trent Ramsey, delivered to a private airport after riding in one of the nicest Cadillac limousines I’d ever been in. Nope. That had been easy compared to seeing the reporters who were standing outside the gate surrounding the airport.
Zeke had shielded me as best he could while informing me I should ignore them and not answer any questions. Then he was kind enough to direct me to the stairs that led up into the jet. Once we ascended those, we were greeted by a chipper young flight attendant.
“Good morning, Ms. Tinsley. My name’s Jill. I’ll be your flight attendant this morning. May I get you some coffee or juice while we wait for Mr. Ramsey to arrive?” she asked politely.
“Coffee would be wonderful. Thank you.”
“Of course. And it’s good to see you again, Mr. Lautner. May I get you anything?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
The woman offered a pleasant smile and disappeared. I took a moment to look around.
While I wasn’t wealthy myself, I had friends who were, so I wasn’t taken completely off guard by the opulence of the jet. It was as nice as I would expect it to be considering Trent’s monumental wealth. An enormous flat-panel television, butter-soft leather seating, decorative molding. Not unlike his house.
As I was glancing around, two additional men appeared.
“Good morning,” the bigger of the two said with a wide smile, his eyes bouncing first to me, then to Zeke.
While they were both roughly the same height, this one probably had a good twenty extra pounds of muscle and it all seemed to be centralized in his broad chest.
Not sure who they were, I hesitated momentarily.
“A shy one,” the other noted, stepping forward and offering a hand. “My name’s Brax.” He winked. “Braxton McBride. I’m Mr. Ramsey’s personal chef. And my friend here … this is Case Rhinehart.”
