Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“I’m afraid that won’t be happening,” says a deep voice from the aisle. I look up, and Mr. Handsome from the first-class lounge is standing right beside us. His presence is intoxicating, like I’ve walked into a cloud of pheromones that are currently invading my senses, and again, my mouth drops open.
“I beg your pardon?” the man next to me says. “Do you know who you are talking to?”
Mr. Handsome’s expression doesn’t change. “No, and I don’t care. You’re sitting in my seat.”
“I know people high-up in this airline.”
“I don’t care if you know God—you’re in my seat. Now get the fuck out of it and move to 4A.”
He doesn’t raise his voice, but boy, the way he says it sends shivers down my spine. There is something menacing in his deep tone. A warning. A dark promise.
The man must think so too, because when he goes to say something, he thinks better of it and gets out of the seat.
He looks so indignant and put out, I want to high-five Mr. Handsome. Except Mr. Handsome doesn’t look like the high-fiving kind.
The flight attendant shows the man to 4A while Mr. Handsome takes the aisle seat next to me.
I’m about to thank him and introduce myself, but his irritation doesn’t seem to be reserved for the jerk who just vacated the seat next to me. It seems I am in his crosshairs too. The look he gives me could burn me to ash and then some. I shrink back, thinking the previous jerk might have been a better option.
I settle back into my seat and close my eyes. I’m not good at flying. Actually, I’m the complete opposite.
I exhale a deep, rough breath.
I can do this.
“You don’t like flying?” a deep voice asks.
My eyes flick open to find Mr. Handsome looking at me.
“No,” I say, feeling the heat of his gaze.
“If it makes you feel any better, you have more chance of dying in a car or riding a bike than on a plane.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better, but thank you for trying.” I huff out a breath. “God, is it too soon to drink?”
His gorgeous, full lips twitch. “It’s only too soon for a drink if you think it is.”
“It’s only ten o’clock.”
“But it’s five o’clock somewhere in the world.”
I smile. “You’re an enabler.”
“No, I just don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. If you want a drink, have one.”
My phone vibrates on my lap. I glance at it. It’s on silent because it is still blowing up with messages. Most of them from Wilson who seems irate because I had the audacity to hang up on him while he was trying to talk this through.
“Sounds like someone is desperate to get in touch with you,” Mr. Handsome says as my phone vibrates again.
I turn it off. “Nothing worth worrying about. Not anymore, anyway.”
One dark eyebrow lifts. “I’m intrigued.”
“Don’t be, it’s not that interesting.” Just my life blowing up.
The captain’s voice comes over the speakers.
“This is your captain speaking. We have a slight delay and won’t be taking off on time. However, our flight crew will be coming through the cabin with complimentary water or soda for all our guests while we wait. We’re sorry for any inconvenience and will do everything we can to get things sorted quickly so we can have you in New York City by lunchtime.”
A murmur of dissatisfaction makes its way through the plane. But the handsome stranger next to me doesn’t react. He remains calm and unruffled. I get the feeling he doesn’t let the little things bother him. But I bet he goes off like a nuclear bomb when it’s something big. He’s got grumpy CEO vibes.
A flight attendant comes past with a cart.
“Champagne?” she asks.
“I thought it was water and soda,” I say, surprised.
She winks and grins. “Welcome to first class, honey.”
I accept the champagne gratefully. It’s not served in a plastic glass either, it’s real glass.
“Sir?” Mr. Handsome nods, and she hands him a glass.
“You can leave the bottle,” he says in a calm but deep, powerful voice.
The flight attendant doesn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
“An entire bottle? It’s a two-hour flight,” I say when the flight attendant walks away.
“Then you’d better start drinking.”
His dark eyes blaze with something a little wicked, and I realize he got the bottle for me because he thinks it will help with my nerves. I drain my glass.
I feel Mr. Handsome’s curious gaze on me. “So tell me, are you visiting New York for business or pleasure?”
“I’m running away,” I say without thinking because the champagne has taken over my tongue.
He lifts a perfect eyebrow. “From?”
“The giant crater that is my life after my ex-fiancé dropped a bomb on it.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
“Don’t be. Apparently, I dodged a bullet, or so everyone keeps telling me.”