“You would choose him over your career?” he asked, speculation in his tone.
The question pissed me off. I knew, knew without even looking at Trent it was a kick in his gut. Trent would internalize those words; he would feel like he was taking something from me instead of giving.
I sat up, holding my body firmly, and stared right into Gamble’s eyes. “I already did.” I yanked my gaze from the older man and looked at Trent. “There’s no choice.”
T lifted his glass, and I watched the liquid slip past his lips and slide down his throat. He did well keeping his reaction contained, but I felt it. I knew it was what he needed to hear.
“And how do you feel about keeping your personal life personal?” Gamble asked.
My back teeth came together. “I like my privacy. Trent and I aren’t the type to go skipping through a forest holding hands and making out on the street. But I won’t deny him. I won’t act like he’s a dirty secret. People will see anyway, just like your daughter did. The pull between us is too strong. That’s why I’m telling you.”
“The interviewer at GearShark already saw,” Trent remarked.
Gamble’s eyes shot open. “She did?”
Trent nodded. “Seemed to think it would help Drew’s career.”
“She didn’t print it…” he mused. Then glanced at me. “She respects you.”
“I threatened her with a lawsuit.” I clarified.
Gamble chuckled. “My boy, lawsuits are a practical daily occurrence to journalists. They push the envelope. Even if she didn’t print the story, she would have whispered. She would have started rumors. The industry would be abuzz right now, and she’d be collecting off it. But I haven’t heard a single word.”
“Why don’t you cut to the chase?” Trent said, his voice out of patience. “You want us to leave or not?”
Gamble laughed. “I always have liked your bluntness.”
“Well?” Trent replied and stood.
Could he feel my budding agitation? The frustration welling inside me because Gamble wasn’t really saying anything? Instead, he was just wearing my patience.
The guy should have been a politician, answering questions without actually giving an answer.
“Dad,” Joey warned as if she were getting frustrated as well. “Put them out of their misery.”
Gamble tossed back the rest of the scotch in his glass and stood. He was dressed comfortably in a pair of what I assumed were dark-colored rich people lounge pants. They were too nice-looking to be considered sweatpants. Paired with them, he had on a light-blue polo that looked like it was made out of cashmere.
Ivy would probably drool all over this guy’s closet.
“Hopper’s gay,” he announced.
I felt my mouth literally fall open. Of all the shit he could say, I never thought it would be that.
“Hopper. Your pro driving coach,” Trent reiterated.
“The one you called a dick.” Gamble agreed.
I glanced at Joey, and she nodded.
“You didn’t think I might like to know that?” I asked.
She shrugged one shoulder. “I knew what my father would say on a personal level, but on a business level? I never have any idea.”
The sound of light footsteps approached, and a woman with dark hair pinned back poked her head in the room. “Dinner is served.”
“Thank you, Ellen!” Joey chimed out, fondness in her voice.
Ellen (who I figured was the housekeeper or cook or something) smiled. “Anything for you Josephine.”
“Josephine,” Trent echoed.
Joey whipped around and gave him an evil eye.
He grinned.
“Thank you, Ellen. We’ll be right there,” Gamble said, and when she was gone, he set aside his empty glass. “Shall we eat?” He gestured toward the door.
“I’d like an answer first,” Trent said, stubborn.
“I’m starving,” Joey said dramatically.
Gamble faced me, and I felt Trent step up to my back, silently offering support.
This was it.
The future of my career.
“Your relationship with Trent is of no consequence to me. I might be an old man, but even I understand the heart chooses who it wants.”
“You’re not that old, Dad,” Joey rebuffed.
“And the racing?” I asked, my heart still squeezing. The lightest touch grazed my lower back. I could feel the heat of it through my shirt. Trent.
Gamble glanced at Trent. “I’ll be blunt. I agree with the reporter.”
“What?” I asked, blinking.
“I think it will help your career.”
“I’m not exploiting our relationship,” Trent said, his voice firm.
“No one said anything about that. But you already made it clear you have no intent of being shy about it either. I like it. In a division where the drivers go against all the rules, do what they want, and represent the underdog? Frankly, you being gay makes you a better face for the brand.”
“For the revolution.” Trent corrected. He brushed his fingertips a little more firmly in a soft caress over my back before pulling away.