“Why do you have to be there?” I ask Tristan, preparing an email for my assistant with instructions for tomorrow. “Is it vital?”
“It’s important.”
Matt: What do you want in exchange, Mason?
Bradley: I’ll send you the bill for the cost of the trip.
I frown at my phone. He’s making it too simple.
Matt: That’s all?
Bradley: No. You owe us a favor. Either your sister or I will cash it in later and you can’t refuse.
Fucking Mason Bradley. I hate when I end up owing him something. My sister—the evil vixen—is the one who usually cashes in the favors.
Matt: Done.
Bradley: I’ll send you a text with all the information when I have it available, but you should be able to leave within the next couple of hours.
I start shutting down my computer. “Pack,” I order Tristan. “I’ll text you when I know what time we’re leaving. I have a few things to do before we take off.”
“Thanks, man. I owe you.”
I can’t help but smile at the beauty of those words. A poetic sound to my empty body. It just might be worth it to be in debt to the Bradleys after all.
Unlike me, Tristan is a quiet man.
It’s not a bad thing, but it wasn’t easy to fly with him for more than two hours. I need conversation. He obviously wishes he could throw me out of the plane. If only he was more open to me, we could be quietly doing a lot in the back bedroom.
I’m not surprised that his defenses are up. He stayed quiet the entire trip, only offering a few clipped responses.
No, I don’t want a beer at the moment.
Thank you, but I had dinner before heading to the hangar.
I was looking forward to spending a few hours with him, except he closed himself off completely. The five-hour flight was uncomfortable, to say the least, and the drive to my penthouse… well, it’s killing me.
What’s with the deafening silence?
Maybe that’s his game. Drawing me closer to his mysterious personality and making me fall for him.
Do I want to fall for him?
I shift gears and enter the ramp to I-5 before glancing in his direction. He’s definitely hot, but I don’t see myself with someone who can’t express their emotions. There’s no way in hell I can live the rest of my life with someone who needs prompting to share the basic information about his day or himself.
“I should’ve taken a cab,” he mumbles angrily.
Okay, I’m wrong. Tristan does display emotions: rage, frustration, and displeasure. “You have to drop me at my hotel. I made the reservation already.”
I take a few sips of air to calm myself. “Cancel it. We’re going to my penthouse.”
“No,” he snaps.
“What’s wrong with heading to my place?”
“Everything.” His voice echoes through the entire car. “I just don’t feel comfortable staying at your place, what with your…”
When I begged to get a damn reaction from him, I hoped for something pleasant. Not this.