"Everyone is speculating on the one question you never seem to want to answer. Please tell our viewers, Mr. Colson: how did you come up with the name of your company, Speed Motorcycles?"
Shit. That was the last thing I wanted to have to talk about on television, especially after just kicking Charles Dorsey out of my office. I stood up and put m
y hands in front of the camera to hide my expression.
"Sorry, I forgot I have an important video conference with someone half-way around the world that I really can't delay. It would be an insult to them to keep them waiting. Thanks for coming in, and thanks for the interview. I love your show. I watch it all the time."
My walking powerfully forward, I managed to force the reporter and his cameraman to stagger backward until I had pushed them out of my office. As soon as they were clear of the threshold, I shut the door in their faces and locked it securely.
Exhausted, I collapsed into my chair. What a disaster today had been, and it wasn't even lunch yet. I was looking forward to my dinner date with Kayla more than ever. I needed to unwind, and I knew just how I wanted to do it. I had a feeling she would love the kinky new game I had in mind. I just had to make sure she didn't watch the television interview first.
Chapter Twenty-One
Kayla
Ethan had left a chauffeured limo for me at the hotel and instructed the driver to take me anywhere I wanted to go. I could see faces peeking through their curtains and pedestrians just stopped and openly stared as the fancy black car pulled to a stop in front of my apartment building.
I felt wonderfully conspicuous as I walked into my shabby apartment and felt everyone watching my every step. So, this was what it was like to be famous. My cell phone, which I had left at home, was completely dead after having been gone all weekend, and I had to search for my charger. As soon as I plugged it into the wall socket, my phone came blinking to life and I saw I had 28 messages on my voicemail.
Wow, Ethan had been right. I couldn't believe it. I grabbed a Diet Coke from my nearly empty refrigerator, kicked back on my couch, and listened to them one by one. Everybody had called: my parents, agents searching for clients, the director of marketing for many prominent companies, and even Mick had called to tell me congratulations. It was a heady feeling and I reveled in it. Now it was time to strategize about my career — but first I had to return the most important call on my voicemail.
"Hi, Mom. It's me."
"Kayla, sweetheart. Your father and I are so proud of you. He bought nearly every copy of the magazine at the supermarket Saturday morning and has been handing out to everybody in town, bragging that you’re our daughter."
"I'm pretty sure everybody in town still knows we're related," I giggled. It was a small town and everyone in it knew everyone. Still, it made my heart swell to know my parents were proud of me.
"The reporters for the gossip magazines are saying that you might be dating the owner of the company. Is it true?" Mom sounded both excited and worried at the same time.
"We are," I breathed, and it felt more real after saying it to her. True, I had already said it to Ethan's friends Gwyneth and Vick, but that was just telling it to strangers in a moment of jealousy. Saying it aloud to my mother somehow made it transform from a fantasy weekend into a real relationship.
"Be careful, sweetheart. You don't want to be known as the kind of girl who sleeps with powerful men just to get modeling jobs. I know you're not like that, but men like this Ethan Colson who own million dollar companies, they can trick innocent girls into thinking there's something there when there isn't."
"I know how to take care of myself, Mom. Don't worry." Had she forgotten that I'd been living in L.A. for the past three years? I knew how to gauge when a man was going to be a sleaze.
"I know you do, sweetheart, but I've read all the articles about this man. He's known for sleeping with the models on the cover of his magazine and then dumping them. He's also stated numerous times that he'll never be in a serious relationship. I just don't want to see you get hurt."
"Ethan's been that way in the past, but we have a connection. It's different this time. Trust me, I know him, and this is for real."
"You thought that with Mick, too. I don't say that hurt you, but you're just getting over a relationship and that can make you particularly vulnerable."
"Ethan's not like that. I'm smart enough to know the difference between real love and just being used." I was angry now.
"I know, sweetheart. Just be careful. Don't jump into things with him too fast."
"I won't," I promised, but it was already too late. After spending an entire weekend in bed together, Ethan already had my heart.
I spent the rest of the afternoon calling back the agents and marketing directors who had called me, hearing their offers and making appointments with the ones that sounded the most appealing. My schedule for the week had never been so full. By the time I finished the last call, I felt exhausted but exhilarated. I couldn't wait to tell Ethan about it. I glanced at my clock and was startled to see it was already time for our date.
I dug through my closet and found the new lingerie I had bought as a surprise for Mick, but never wore. It would the perfect outfit for tonight. The black, silk, corseted top had a sweetheart bust line that maximized my cleavage and laced down the back for a sexy look. The matching black silk panties were a high-waisted thong that showed off my round buttocks and long legs. The black, thigh-high stockings attached with a garter belt to the corseted top, like an old-fashioned harlot's, and a pair of black stiletto heels completed the look. The outfit was deliciously naughty, and I slipped on a sweet, little pink cotton dress on top of it for a deceptively innocent outer shell. Ethan was sure to love it, and I was already feeling aroused just thinking about his reaction.
When I got to his mansion, he opened the front door himself.
"I gave all the maids and servants the night off," he explained with a sexy grin. He looked fantastic in a dark-blue suit with a pale-blue tie. I thought about what he had done with the last tie he had, and my pussy began to quiver with anticipation.
"Have a seat. Dinner is ready." He showed me to the dining room where the table had been intimately set for two, with fine china, crystal wine glasses, and a bottle of expensive Merlot chilling in a bucket of ice nearby.
We dined on delicious cuisine, prepared by his private, French chef. We started with an appetizer of brie cheese crepes with béchamel sauce graniteed, followed by spinach salad with champagne vinaigrette.