Release Me: A Novel by J. Kenner

Author:J. Kenner [Kenner, J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: cookie429, Kat, Extratorrents
ISBN: 0345544110
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2013-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

17

We take Damien’s private elevator down to the parking level, and when the doors open, I recognize the red sports car from last night. I glance sideways at Damien. “Nice car. Looks familiar. Probably a lot of them in Los Angeles, huh?”

“Hundreds, I’m sure,” he says dryly.

I don’t know much about cars, but I can tell this one is sweet. It’s cherry red and polished to a mirror shine. The windows are tinted as dark as a limo. It’s so low to the ground that I’m afraid my ass will get bruised if we hit a pothole. It’s sleek and beautiful and definitely the kind of toy I’d expect a billionaire to own.

“What?” he says, seeing my smile.

“You’re predictable, that’s all.”

His brows lift. “Am I?”

“What is this, some kind of fancy Ferrari? I mean, what billionaire doesn’t own a Ferrari?”

“Ah, it’s much worse than that,” he says. “This is a Bugatti Veyron. It costs about twice as much as a Ferrari. Nine hundred eighty-seven horsepower, a W16 engine, top speed of two hundred fifty-three, and she’ll go from zero to sixty in under three seconds.”

I force myself to look unimpressed. “In other words, you don’t own a Ferrari?”

“I own three.” Before I can react, he grins and presses a soft kiss to my forehead. “Watch your head getting in. She’s low to the ground.”

He opens my door, and I slide in. The all-leather interior smells amazing, and the seat hugs me like—well, I don’t know like what, but I could get used to it.

“Where are we going?” I ask, as he gets in behind the wheel.

“Santa Monica.”

The beachside town is maybe thirty minutes away, and that’s only if we hit a ton of traffic. “Oh. So we’re having an early lunch?”

“The Santa Monica Airport,” he clarifies. “That’s where I keep the jet hangared.”

“Of course it is.” I lean back in the seat and decide I’m either going to have heart palpitations or just go with it. The latter seems healthier. And more fun. “And we’re taking the jet where?”

“Santa Barbara,” he says.

“Really? With this car, I’d think we’d just drive.”

“If I didn’t have a meeting at three, we would.” He presses a button on the steering wheel and the car fills with a dial tone, then begins to ring.

“Yes, Mr. Stark?”

“Sylvia, I’m taking the Bombardier out. Call Grayson and get her ready and put in a flight plan for me to Santa Barbara.”

“Of course. Shall I arrange for a car to meet you at SBA?”

“Yes. And let Richard know I’m coming. We’ll be dining on the terrace.”

“Consider it done. Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Stark.”

He clicks off without saying goodbye.

“She sounds efficient.”

“Sylvia? She is. I expect only two things from my employees, loyalty and competence. Sylvia excels at both.”

I am, I realize, slightly jealous of Sylvia and her pert smile and pixie cut hair sitting right there outside Damien’s office every single day. It’s a stupid, petty emotion and I’m ashamed to even entertain it. I console myself with an even pettier truth—that I’m the one he’s taking to lunch.

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