24. Gabriella
Gabriella
T raffic sped along the interstate as Johnathon drove me to the airport. Last night, I gave in and called Millie, informing her that I wouldn’t be in the office today. My next call was to Niles. He promised to watch the movers and help Rosemary.
It wasn’t Beta Kappa Phi that had my stomach in knots. It was the unknown of this upcoming weekend. Even though I’d left Damien a voicemail last night, I’d yet to hear from him. When I asked Johnathon what was happening, he was vague, as if he wasn’t certain of Damien’s location or else he’d been sworn to secrecy.
What did that mean?
Was Damien with another woman?
Why were my thoughts going that direction?
Damien had been many things when we were last together, but unfaithful wasn’t one of them. That brought back the question I posed to Niles—are Damien and I back together?
When it came to my plans for the weekend, I had the detailed itinerary complete with notes for my predetermined clothing. Each notation was like an itch I couldn’t scratch. The entire idea was ridiculous. I meant what I’d said: I wasn’t a doll to be dressed.
At the last minute, I stripped out of the outfit Damien demanded I wear, packing it neatly into the suitcase. If I was going to meet these people as Ella Crystal, I would do it in my own clothes. Besides, I hadn’t heard from Damien since the ridiculous text. I didn’t even know if he would be along on this trip.
If he wasn’t present, he’d never know what I wore or didn’t wear.
The spring sky filled with crimson and lavender hues with the rising sun as Johnathon’s SUV entered the private parking lot near the personal hangars. Taking in the different planes through the windows, I remembered the feeling of boarding one of these aircraft.
Damien’s words from the other night came back to me. “Self-deprecation isn’t a good look for you, Ella. You know how to enjoy the finer things in life. Perhaps you’ve forgotten.”
I hadn’t forgotten.
I assumed that those finer things were no longer part of my world. I wasn’t without fine things. It was that my things were more common. I bought my wine from Total Wine & More. I flew economy. My clothes came from the mall and while shopping, I looked at every price tag. Four figures for a dress was a waste of money. Hell, the Brandon Maxwell dress was probably worth one to two months on my mortgage.
And now, here I was.
Back in the world where I never truly felt that I belonged.
As Johnathon opened my door and I stepped out to the tarmac, I remembered what it was like.
The opulence.
The luxury.
The illusion of wealth.
That wasn’t to say Damien didn’t have wealth, but to say I didn’t.
“I’ll get your luggage stowed under the plane,” Johnathon offered.
The stairs to the plane with Sinclair painted on the fuselage were down. Inhaling a deep breath, I lifted my chin and began the ascent. As I climbed the steps, the pilot, Allen, appeared at the top.
“Ms. Crystal, it’s nice to see you again.”
It was the same feeling as when I met Edgar at the elevators, a friendly face to calm my nerves. “Allen.” I smiled and offered my hand. “I’m glad to know I’m in safe hands.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’re about ready to do our final checklist before takeoff. We should be in Ashland before nine o’clock, their time.”
As I stepped inside the plane, a woman in a uniform appeared. “Hello, Ms. Crystal. I’m Angie. May I get you anything before we take off?”
“Coffee with cream would be nice.”
I turned toward the main cabin. The seats were all empty. This plane could fly up to twelve passengers. The seats were clustered in groups of four with a coffee/alcohol/ food bar. For a moment, I stood still, holding my satchel and looking around at the white leather seats, laminate woodwork, and shiny fixtures. Memories bombarded my mind, much as when I’d entered Damien’s office. The twisting in my chest made me wonder if I could do this—be the person for Beta Kappa Phi and work intimately with Damien.
“You may sit wherever you’d like,” Angie said as she poured coffee into a ceramic mug.
Nodding, I set my satchel with my laptop and notes on a seat near the window as I sat in the one to its side, facing the front of the plane. Closing my eyes, I tried not to think about the fact Damien wasn’t present. I would be all right. I’d met Donovan Sherman. This was my job. I didn’t need him to introduce me.
I watched as the stairsteps moved upward, closing the entrance to the plane.
“I’m glad you decided to make it.”
Turning around, my breath caught in my throat. His voice and the scent of his cologne came to me simultaneously. I was wrong. I wasn’t the only passenger in this gilded plane. My gaze immediately met Damien’s. In the milliseconds that passed, I had the odd feeling that there was something off about him. That wasn’t to say he wasn’t handsome as ever in his suit. It was as if there were a cloud of discontent surrounding him.
As he came around the seat scanning me from head to toe, his blue eyes darkened, and his square jaw clenched.
“Have Johnathon bring Ms. Crystal’s luggage up here,” he said, speaking to Angie and moving to the seat across from me.
“Yes, sir.”
“Why do I need my luggage?”
My question went unanswered as the stairs were again lowered, a fresh breeze filled the cabin, and Damien sat. It was impossible not to skirt my focus from his perfectly combed hair to his custom suit and expensive shoes. The whiff of spicy cologne made my stomach do a flip-flop. “Damien,” I said, making eye contact. “I didn’t know if you’d be joining me. Johnathon was evasive. Why did you send for the suitcase?”
“I can assume you received the suitcase. Johnathon took it to you last night?”
I nodded.
“And my text?”
“You know I did. I called you and left a message.”
Damien tilted his face slowly, contemplating his next move much like the predator I knew he could be. His gaze swept over me. The ensuing silence brought a chill skittering over my flesh. His firm lips pressed together in a disapproving way as his gaze returned to my eyes. His navy eyes stayed fixed on me.
This was about the clothes.
He was making more out of the situation than there was.
Finally, Damien spoke, his words cutting through the growing tension. “You were wrong.”
I sat straight, lifting my chin to meet his stare. “What was I wrong about?”
His finger blanched as his grip tightened on the arms of his chair. Though his volume wasn’t loud, his tone and timbre left little room for debate. “Your message. I will dress you. And since you chose not to do it correctly yourself, I will do it myself, right here.” He nodded. “That is why I called for your suitcase.”
Right here?
In the cabin?
“That won’t be necessary,” I said, keeping my tone firm. “I decided that I should meet the other CEOs as myself. That means wearing my clothes.”
His lips quirked. “The clothes in the suitcase are yours, Ella. They won’t fit me.” He shook his head slowly. “And even if they did, they were purchased for you.”
Johnathon entered the cabin with the large suitcase, slightly out of breath. “Here it is.”
“Thank you, Johnathon,” Damien said. “Continue to handle things here in Indy while I’m away.”
Johnathon nodded. “I will, sir. Have a safe trip.” His green gaze met mine with a smile and another nod.
Once Johnathon disappeared out the doorway, Angie hit a button to raise the stairs.
Damien stood and reached for the suitcase. I clenched my teeth, wondering if he would demand I strip right here. Instead, he grasped the handle and wheeled it toward the back of the cabin.
A flood of relief circulated through me as I craned my neck watching him and realized he hadn’t meant I would change in the sitting cabin. Since this was the same plane that I’d flown on many times, I was aware of the sleeping cabin in the aft of the plane.
Looking from side to side, I didn’t see Allen or Angie.
“Ella,” Damien called.
With an exaggerated breath, I stood and made my way back to the doorway of the sleeping cabin. My gaze skirted the room, the built-in closets and drawers, the large king-sized bed, and a doorway to an attached bathroom. “I’m not going in there with you.”
“You can change in the front cabin, but it isn’t as private.”
Shaking my head, I sighed out of exasperation. “What I’m wearing is fine. I don’t appreciate you insinuating that it isn’t.”
The vein in his forehead pulsated. He spoke between clenched teeth. “Fine is not good enough.” Leaving the suitcase in a closet, Damien came my direction, stopping millimeters away. His palpable discontent was audible in his measured words. “As I said in my text message, this meeting is about impressing the other CEOs.” He exhaled. “I should have given you more preparation time. That is on me.”
At least he could admit that.
He went on, “Let me make myself clear. By the time this plane lands, you will be wearing the outfit I chose for the occasion—either by your own doing or with my help.” His lips quirked. “Yes, that idea is growing on me.”
“Damien, I don’t work for you.”
“You don’t. However, because I’m your connection to this coalition, you represent me. That means I have a say in the way you represent me.”
I rolled my eyes. “You only wanted me for this position because you couldn’t get away with this shit with anyone else.”
“Shit?” His volume rose. “Purchasing thousands of dollars of clothes. Fuck, Ella, is that so terrible?”
Swallowing, I exhaled. “Not terrible. It’s too personal.” I pointed at the closet. “There is lingerie in there. I don’t sleep in lingerie.”
“I’m all right with naked.”
“No,” I said, “I’m not sharing a room with you on this trip. That is inappropriate.”
He smirked. “I haven’t personally seen what’s inside the suitcase. I did choose each outfit online myself, including the lingerie. You may have noticed a lack of panties.” He lifted his hands. “I’m sure you’ll claim that’s inappropriate, but I couldn’t resist.”
“I did notice,” I replied, “and I added my own.”
Damien swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “We will be staying at a hotel in Ashland. I’ve stayed there before. It’s not the New York Ritz, but it’s not bad. You do have your own room, Ms. Crystal.”
“Thank you.”
“Julia, Van’s wife, has invited everyone from the coalition for our quarterly meeting. Each CEO hosts a quarter. There is usually work talk and socializing. The Shermans are hosting a cocktail hour and dinner at their home on Saturday night. Since the members of the coalition won’t meet again for another three months, this was the perfect occasion to introduce you.”
“And you didn’t think I needed more than ten hours’ notice?”
He nodded. “Again, my oversight. I’ve been a bit preoccupied. Communication will be easier when you’re physically working from Sinclair.”
“I’m a phone call away.” The irritation I felt was coming through in my tone. “You wanted to be damn sure I answered my phone and then you went silent for forty-eight hours. I don’t know what to think.” I let my arms fall and my palms slap my thighs. “What is happening?”
“Mr. Sinclair. Ms. Crystal,” Angie called from the front cabin. “Please take your seats. Allen is ready to take off.”
Damien’s eyes narrowed as he lowered his voice. “Say ‘Yes, Damien, I’ll change my clothes.’”
“It doesn’t seem as though I have a choice.”
“Oh, you do.” His hand came to my hip, turning me and leading me out to the front cabin. He lowered his lips to my ear. “Option B is that I get to undress and dress you.”
My core tightened at his threat.
Damn my traitorous body.
“Option A,” I said.
“I’ll take a raincheck on option B.”
I turned to meet his gaze. “Thank you for the reminder of what an ass you can be.”