Page 50 of Notorious Park Avenue Prince

King turned to Zac. “Does he always top from the bottom?”

Zac smirked. “He tries. All the fucking time.”

“Good to know.”

Silence descended then, as neither King nor Zac said anything else or made a move to get this party started. Itwasgetting started, right? Maybe asking if I was always in control was King’s way of telling me to take the lead, and I was more than happy to accommodate.

I unbuttoned one sleeve, then the other, and started to remove the ascot at my throat.

King raised a brow.“Is it too warm in here for you?”

“Scorching, actually.”

He tapped the screen on the console, and a rush of cold air filled the vehicle.

“There,” he said, settling back in his seat. “That should cool you off.”

I frowned, dropping my hands into my lap. “I’m confused.”

“I think King’s trying to tell you nothing’s going to happen until we get to wherever we’re going,” Zac said, and I didn’t miss the way King’s eyes darkened in arousal at the use of his nickname.I looked to King for confirmation, and he nodded.

“Okaaay…” I said. “Well, do you want to fill us in on where that is?”

“No.”

“Is it the secret lair?”

He pressed his lips together.

“Don’t we need blindfolds if we’re going there? Are you gonna tie us up this time too?”

“East”—Zac gestured toward the bar—“why don’t you make a drink?”

“Do you really think that’s going to make me less impatient?”

Truthfully, it couldn’t hurt. I hated being left out of plans, but since King had given us a hell of a night before, I could relax and just go with it. Really, I could.

I reached for the bottle of vodka, and only then did I notice we’d crossed over into New Jersey on a route I knew all too well.

“Are we flying somewhere?”

“Why would you say that?” King said.

“Because we’re coming up on Teterboro.”

Zac looked out the window and frowned. “What’s Teterboro?”

“Seriously? Do you not take private planes?”

He shrugged. “My family likes to travel commercial.”

“My God, why?” A shiver racked my body, and I shook it off. Being stuck on a jet with hundreds of other passengers, terrible food, and crying kids would have me never wanting to travel again.

“Such a snob,” Zac said, his mouth quirked in amusement at my horror. If he’d said it once, he’d said it a million times, but it didn’t bother me. It just meant I had taste.

The limo passed through the security gate and toward a hangar, where an even nicer jet than the one my father had sat ready and waiting on the tarmac.

Damn, not bad.

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