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“Oh, I-”
“No no, Jade, no protesting from you. You're more than an hour's cab ride away. My place is a lot closer.”
“Look, I've got plenty of spare bedrooms,” he added with haste. “I'm just going to hit the sack as soon as I get back. I'll call ahead and have my housekeeper prepare a room for you.”
“Alright,” replied Jade, feeling the warmth of the wine heating up her body. “Alright then. Let's go.”
Brenton shot her a cheeky grin, and then took out his phone.
“This is gonna get interesting,” thought Jade to herself. “Really interesting.”
CHAPTER 6
A light, cool rain began to fall as the taxi pulled up to the sidewalk, and Brenton pulled off his Versace overcoat and draped it over Jade's shoulders.
“This'll keep you dry,” he said, his deep voice uncharacteristically gentle.
She had grown to be very fond of this sound of his voice, with its deep, soothing timbre. And now, as she prepared to step out of the cab into the cool of the night, she closed her eyes briefly and drank in his musky, manly scent, in which the coat was saturated.
While Brenton was paying the fare, Jade climbed out of the cab and hurried across the wet sidewalk to the entrance to the building; a tall, imposing skyscraper of glass and steel. Brenton owned the lavish penthouse at the top. She hurried inside the building, where she was greeted by an elderly Puerto Rican doorman.
“You're a friend of Mr. Huxley's, huh?” he asked with a warm smile.
“I am,” she answered.
“Pretty lady,” he said with a wink. “And lucky, too. Mr. Huxley's a great guy. Really great guy.”
Just then Jade's phone buzzed. She opened her bag and took it out, and saw another gossipy message from Jenny waiting for her on the screen. She opened the message and was about to read it when she felt a strong arm curl gently around her waist.
“Do you like dancing, Madame?” whispered Brenton into her ear. “I can waltz, I can tango, I can two-step, I can jive... Take your pick!”
With a laugh he twirled her around, and she couldn't help but giggle with delight.
“I think I'm a bit too tipsy to remember my tango steps,” she laughed as she tucked her phone back into her bag.
“I'll throw on a record upstairs. Music helps the body remember how to move. It always does, trust me...”
Brenton then turned to the kindly old Puerto Rican porter.
“Francisco,” he said, “would you be so kind as to buzz us up to my floor?”
“Top floor it is, Mr. Huxley!” said the old man with a sparkle in his eye, and he hurried over to the elevator and opened the doors for them. “You two have yourselves a lovely evening now,” he said as he sent them up in the elevator.
Jade was not prepared for what was waiting at her at the top of the elevator ride; no, not in the least. She stepped out of the elevator into a hallway that was all marble and gold. Everything was swimming in opulence. Tasteful opulence, yes, but opulence nonetheless. She was quite surprised to see two shiny, lovingly-polished vintage racing cars parked on either side of a huge, intricately-carved wooden door.
“This way, Jade,” said Brenton as he strutted over to the door.
“Nice cars,” she murmured as she followed him.
“The red one belonged to Steve McQueen,” he said with casual ease, as if it were a mere magazine on a shelf that he was talking about, “and the black one belonged to Elvis, for a while.”
He pushed open the huge doors, revealing a vast space lined with a huge 360-degree array of windows that looked out over the entirety of the New York City skyline. It was like the view from his office, only far more comprehensive and vast. Jade couldn't help but gasp with delight. She walked slowly into the huge space, marveling at everything she saw before her. On one wall, an enormous screen, like a movie theater screen, was mounted, while lavish decorations gleamed under the subtly-placed, gentle glow of hundreds of directional lights. She gasped and then chuckled with surprise as she saw a Bat-suit standing menacingly in a glass display case.
“Is there a secret about yourself that you'd like to tell me, Brenton?” she asked with a laugh, pointing at the suit.
