He laughed quietly to himself as he rummaged through his bag for his passport and boarding pass. Glancing up at the display board listing his flight, he switched the phone to his other ear as he pulled the papers out. Grasping his phone again, he straightened up as he walked towards the check-in station. Smiling at the lady behind the counter, he slid over his passport and ticket before turning away slightly and saying in a low voice, “I was thinking more along the lines of getting a room at The St. Regis with some champagne.”
His grave expression cracked as he smiled. Taking back his passport, he set his small suitcase on the scale.
“I really don’t see why we couldn’t. I have no objections to lunch, though I’d prefer to keep the guest list small. Cécile is a must, as are the BlacKnights. It’s not every year you break a record. Especially at the BRIT Awards. As for the rest, we can determine when I’m back home.”
Hitching his bag up, he quickly thanked the employee before making his way to the security check. The voice on the other end of the call seemed to have said something amusing because his smile widened.
“I don’t see why we can’t do that either when I get back. But for now, I have to go. I have to go through security. But I’ll see you in 9 hours, alright? Alright. I love you too, sweet pea. Bye.”
Pocketing his phone, he was about to join the flow of people into the checkpoint, when he felt a hand on his elbow. Glancing over his shoulder, he turned to leave when the face looming over his shoulder made him stop short and the blood drain from his face.
Bowing slightly, Jeremiah Gottwald greeted his young master.
“Good morning, my lord. If you would be so kind, there is a car waiting for you at the front of the airport to take you to her Grace, the Duchess of Pendragon, who respectfully requests an audience with my lord.”