Page 69 of Prey Tell
“He Made Me Feel Special, and Then He Kicked Me Out”: Is Chase Ravage a Playboy? Or is he Protecting His Heart?
I furrow my brows. “So, the gossip articles are true, then?”
He huffs a laugh. “I guess. Sometimes. I don’t usually invite my subs to my house for that reason, but when I do, I don’t kick them out. But I also don’t invite them to breakfast.”
I look down at my feet. “But you have me for three days,” I tell him.
He nods. “Unprecedented.” His eyes rove over my face, a hint of worry etched into his features. “The whole thing is unprecedented for me, Parker.”
My stomach swoops at his words, but before I can ask him what he means, there’s a knock on the door.
“That’ll be the food,” he says, giving me a wry smile. “Care to join me at the dining table?” he asks, a glint of something wicked in his eyes as he walks over to the door.
Once we’re done eating a few minutes later, I lean back as Chase pushes his plate away.
“What happened before… is that normal? Was that subspace?”
He rubs his mouth with his hand. “Not quite, but I think you were well on your way there. Subspace is most often experienced when there’s a lot of trust,” he starts.
“I trust you,” I tell him, sitting up straighter.
He nods once. “I know. But you think very analytically, which prohibits you from entering subspace fully. You were on the edge—like a pinpoint focus on the endgame.” Smiling, he looks at me. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you there.”
Oh, boy. I’m in trouble.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
THE CONTEMPLATION
Chase
I excuse myself after checking in with Parker one last time, heading downstairs to the study to finish some work for Ravage Consulting Firm. Right now, we’re looking to purchase an important property, and though our assistants handle most of the paperwork, I still have to go through the numerous clauses I added in, and their counteroffers. There’s one clause specifically that I won’t budge on, and the seller’s hesitation is evident in their correspondence. I send an email that’s probably a bit too surly, telling them that without this clause, they will not receive the money they need to continue functioning.
After, I call Miles so that he can get me up to speed on anything else happening with the business. Our PR team has been on our asses to show ourselves at more public events, and though I’m considered a lost cause, Miles has somehow been slated to be the next eligible bachelor. Probably because he doesn’t have women breaking their NDAs and flapping their lips to any tabloid that will listen.
“I wish there was a service for this,” he mutters, and I hear him tapping his fingers on his desk back in his office in Crestwood. I glance at the clock on my computer. It’s past nine in the evening. “You can join discreet dating services. Why doesn’t anyone have a service for—”
“Finding a wife?” I ask, laughing as I lean back in one of the office chairs.
He chuckles on the other end. “You know what I mean. Business arrangements.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it out soon.”
“Yes, well, you know how important our public image is. Hopefully I can get this taken care of sooner rather than later.”
“Jesus. It’s like you’re talking about a root canal instead of a marriage.”
He’s quiet for a few seconds, obviously off in crotchety Miles-land, before he changes the subject.
“How’s the hunting going?” There’s a lilt of amusement in his voice. “Catch anything interesting?”
“Fuck off,” I grumble.
“So, you’re telling me that Jackson’s mention of Juliet being away at a conference this weekend is a coincidence?”
I grind my jaw. I hate when he pushes my buttons. I think of Parker lounging on the couch with chocolate cake, watching TV, and looking at home in her bathrobe. Knowing she’s safe, knowing I have her all to myself for two and a half more days… it brings me a weird sense of accomplishment.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tell him, voice clipped.
