“Yes?”
He rested his forearms on the table and pinned me in place with his heated stare. “From here on out, while we’re playing—which is anytime we’re not working—I’d prefer for you to call me Master.”
Master? Really? “But I usually call you boss, boss,” I mentioned, confused as to why I was being reprimanded.
“He’s not referring to a casual, everyday reference,” Clarissa stated, her voice soft. “He’s referring to an honorific.”
Once again, I was clueless.
Thankfully, she continued. “Some Doms prefer to be called a specific title when they’re playing. Whether it’s Sir, Master, or even my Lord. I knew one Dom who wanted to be called Titus.” She smiled sweetly. “It’s a title that reiterates his dominance in the relationship. And since he’s your boss in everyday life, it would make sense to call him something different to acknowledge your … relationship.”
Relationship? Was that what this was?
My eyes cut to Trent and he seemed rather satisfied with Clarissa’s explanation.
Okay, then. If my boss wanted to be called Master, then I would call him Master.
“Thank you,” I told Clarissa. “For explaining.” I turned toward Trent. “And I apologize for my ignorance in this matter, Master.”
“I’m allowing for a learning curve.” Trent chuckled. “However, there will come a time when you will be punished for not offering the proper respect.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Trent lifted an eyebrow, and Clarissa cleared her throat.
“Shit. I mean, oh, okay, Master.” This was going to take some time.
“I’d like for the two of you to go into the living room while I take care of the dishes.”
“Oh, no,” I said, jumping to my feet. “I’ll be happy to handle the cleanup.”
Trent didn’t move, but his eyes followed me. One slight shake of his head was the only response I received.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I really don’t mind.”
“I’m sure.” His tone said I should keep any additional arguments to myself.
So I did. “I will … uh … take Clarissa into the living room then.”
“I wouldn’t mind a tour,” she said sweetly.
Trent nodded.
“Sure. I can show you around,” I informed her.
“Perhaps while he does that, you can give him a quick Submissive 101 class,” Trent told Clarissa with a grin.
“I’d be happy to.”
Once Trent helped Clarissa to her feet, I placed my hand on the small of her back and steered her toward the living room. It felt wrong to leave Trent to clean up the dishes. He’d sent all the house staff home, so there was no one else around to do it.
I’d never gotten the impression Trent saw himself as being above anyone. He took care of plenty of things on his own, including dishes from time to time. However, there were people he employed who handled all of that. Laundry, cooking, cleaning, even grocery shopping. They moved about the house on a daily basis.
“Maybe you should get the wine,” Clarissa suggested softly when we arrived in the living room.
“Right.” I spun around and grabbed all three of the glasses from the table as well as the remainder of the bottle.
“Get more wine from the cellar, Troy,” Trent called out as he left the room.
For fuck’s sake. I looked like a complete and total idiot.
I raced to the wine cellar and found another bottle of Trent’s preferred wine, then returned to the living room, where Clarissa was standing near the wall of windows that overlooked the pool.
The woman was breathtaking. I’d thought so the instant I’d laid eyes on her at her house. Even more so after she’d taken a shower and dolled herself up.
And she smelled so good. Fresh and sweet. It took everything in me not to invade her personal space. For some reason, I wanted to get closer to her.
Granted, I seriously doubted she’d looked at me twice. Considering I was vanilla—as Trent liked to say—I couldn’t imagine she had an interest in me. Then again, why would she when she could have a demanding Dom like Trent?
After refilling all three glasses, I carried one over to her.
“It’s beautiful out there,” she said absently.
“Trent spared no expense. The pool is heated, plus there’s a hot tub. Around that way”—I motioned toward the right side of the pool—“through the door into the house, there’s a changing area complete with washer and dryer as well as a full bathroom. On the other side, there’s a tennis court.”
Clarissa peered up at me. “I didn’t see Trent as a tennis player.”
I grinned. “He’s not. It was here when he bought the place. But it’s nice, so he left it. But he did install a sport court because he does play a mean game of basketball.”
“Really?” She seemed genuinely interested in this revelation.
“Yeah. He’s kicked my ass a few times.”
“I used to play basketball when I was a kid,” she said, her attention focused outside. “My dad put a hoop on the house above the garage. The only time I ever scored was when he hefted me up so I could dunk the ball in.”
I smiled at the thought of Clarissa as a kid.
“So, what’s Submissive 101?” I asked.
Clarissa chuckled. “I’m pretty sure he was joking.”
“Oh.” That figured.
We stood there for several minutes in complete silence watching the lights glittering under the water. The backyard was the equivalent of a tropical paradise, one that had clearly captivated Clarissa.
It wasn’t until Trent cleared his throat from behind us that I realized he had returned.
“Come. Sit,” he said, motioning toward the couch.
I followed Clarissa around the room, then waited for her to select a seat before I chose one on the opposite couch. I figured Trent would want to sit by her and I was right. He sat close, crossing his legs as though he was comfortable sitting in the quiet with the two of us.
The quiet didn’t last long.
“Still don’t care to tell me why you’re moving?” he prompted, his gaze settling on Clarissa.
“Preferably not.” If he pushed, I figured Clarissa would divulge her secrets, but it was evident he was going to let it slide for now.
For whatever reason, he seemed different around her. He was the type of man who pushed for answers he wanted. If they weren’t forthcoming, he could be relentless in his pursuit of them. I found it interesting that he wasn’t pushing her.
“Okay, then. Tell us something about yourself.”
“Like?”
“Where did you grow up?” He took a sip of his wine, his eyes cutting to me every now and then.
“Here in the Dallas area,” she admitted. “My mother lives in Garland and my father in Wylie.”
“They’re divorced?” I asked.
“Yes.” She leaned back, trying to get more comfortable, but it was clear she wasn’t sure who to focus on. “They divorced when I was six.”
“Irreconcilable differences?” Trent asked with a grin.
“You could say that. My father wanted to cheat, my mother didn’t want him to. They couldn’t come to an agreement about it.”
“Well, I hope your mother took him for everything,” he said firmly.
She laughed, obviously not expecting that from Trent. “No. I don’t remember much about it, but I think it was relatively civil. The same can’t be said for her second divorce. When husband number two cheated, she took it personally that time.”
I decided to chime in. “How many times has she been married?”
“Three. And she’s been divorced three times as well. She picked men who liked to play the field, despite their vows.”
“And you?” Trent asked.
Clarissa frowned.
“Have you ever been married?” I filled in for him.
She huffed a laugh. “No. I have no desire to end up in my mother’s position.
I’ve learned quite well that men don’t like to be chained down.”
“All men?” Trent didn’t appear fazed by her obvious gender bias.
“Well, I figure it’s a safe bet since she married three and all of them cheated. What are the odds of that?”
“I can assure you not all men are interested in playing the field,” he said firmly.
“Well, I’m not willing to take that chance.”
It was clear Clarissa was jaded.
“No?” Trent pushed. “So, you’re saying you expect Luke and Cole to stray from Sierra at some point? Or Logan and Elijah from Sam?”
I had heard the names, but I didn’t know who these people were.
“No,” Clarissa declared, obviously knowing them. “That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then Tag and McKenna? They won’t have a lifetime together? Or what about Xander? You think he’ll cheat on Mercedes?”
“Absolutely not.”
“So, your argument holds no water then, counselor.”
I had to admit, Trent did know how to argue a point.
“What about your parents?” Clarissa asked, looking directly at me, apparently hoping to change the subject.
“My parents are still married. I’m not sure I’d say happily, but I don’t see them splitting up anytime soon.”
“And yours?” she asked Trent.
“What about them?” Trent’s eyes slid to me briefly, then back to Clarissa.
I knew all about Trent’s background. Being that they’d done numerous stories on Trent over the years, I’d heard the good, the bad, and the absurd.
“Are they still together?” Clarissa asked.
“My mother gave me up for adoption when she was fourteen. I suspect they haven’t been together since.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize.”
“However, the people who fostered me when I was a teenager are still happily married. Thirty-five years, in fact.”
Clarissa took a sip of wine. “Where do they live?”
“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.”
I stared, shaking Braxton’s hand, then Case’s. I noticed neither man addressed Zeke, nor did he acknowledge them.
That was interesting.
“And you are?” Case prompted when he released me.
I felt my cheeks warm. “Clarissa Tinsley. A … uh … business associate of Trent’s.”
Braxton’s light green eyes twinkled as though he knew an inside joke I wasn’t privy to.
“Mr. Ramsey’s car just arrived,” Jill informed us as she set a steaming mug on a small table that was banked by leather chairs on each side.
I noticed she didn’t offer to get either man anything.
“Thank you,” I told her, although I wasn’t sure whether I was thanking her for the coffee or the update.
Braxton and Case both moved deeper into the cabin while I leaned over and glanced out the window, wanting to get a glimpse of Trent before he stepped onto the plane. He was walking with two men. From this distance, I couldn’t make out their features, but I could tell by the way the shorter one moved that it was Troy.
My thoughts drifted back to last night. To dinner with the two of them. Despite it being somewhat awkward, I couldn’t deny that I’d enjoyed myself. While Trent
put me on edge, I found Troy to be like a balm for the soul.
A few seconds later, I heard Jill greeting them.
“Good morning, Mr. Ramsey. Mr. Shelton. Mr. Bishop. The pilot is preparing for departure. We’ve got about five minutes before takeoff. Can I get you anything?”
“I’ll be fine until we’re in the air, Jill, thank you.” Trent’s rich baritone echoed through the confined space.
I watched the front of the plane and tried to hide my body’s absurd reaction to the man when he appeared. Like usual, Trent was sporting an expensive suit, perfectly tailored to flatter him from head to toe. This one was a light gray, the sapphire tie setting off his eyes.
“Good morning, sunshine,” he greeted when he stopped a few feet away from where I stood, doing my absolute best not to fidget.
“Good morning, Mr. Ramsey,” I said, trying to keep my tone professional. This was a business trip, after all.
The smirk he offered said he saw right through me. He closed the gap between us, his eyes pinning me in place as I stared up at him, refusing to look away. My breath hitched when I felt the warmth of his body against my breasts. I inhaled deeply, his intoxicating scent making my mind go blank momentarily.
I’d thought about this man nonstop for the past week, and it seemed no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t prepare myself to be in his presence.
I held my breath as he leaned down … down … down.
The kiss that followed said Trent knew exactly what he was doing to me. Oh, it wasn’t anything alarming, just a soft peck on the lips, his hands sliding up my arms as he drew me in closer to him, but it was enough to have my body warming significantly.
When his lips released mine, he shifted so that our cheeks brushed. His voice lowered when he spoke, his lips close to my ear. “You may call me Sir or Master. Whatever your preference, sunshine.”
I couldn’t hide the shiver that danced over me at the gruffly implied sentiment.
When he pulled back, I stared up into those mesmerizing blue eyes, feeling myself getting lost in them. I knew I shouldn’t, but it was hard not to.
“Yes, Master Ramsey.”
His eyes narrowed as his hands fell away. “You’re not a club submissive, pet. Drop the surname.”
Their Famous Dominant (Office Intrigue, 4) Page 17
