Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 130414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 652(@200wpm)___ 522(@250wpm)___ 435(@300wpm)
I frowned. “When did you accuse me of not having a talent?”
Oliver threw his head back and laughed. “This is fantastic. Turns out Bruce won’t have to kill you to land your job, after all. Your wife will do the job for him.”
Bruce? Swapping notes with the man who wanted to kill my future husband seemed like a swell idea, but before I could request a last name, they moved on to discussing stocks.
With that, I pressed the chip bag to my lips and tilted my head back, finishing it down to the last crumb. Romeo unwrapped a new pack of gum and transferred each cube into his tin container with deft fingers, forming a perfect, straight row. Then he offered a piece to each of his friends, forgetting me.
And I was the one with poor manners?
I glared out the window, trying to find some silver lining to my situation. Anything.
First, we’d make beautiful babies. No way anything that came from his sperm and my eggs could be anything less than aesthetic perfection. Second, from what I’d gathered, neither Romeo nor I cursed. Our child would exit the womb speaking like a fourteenth-century duke, hopefully sans the misogyny. And third … there was no third. Lord, even the second kind of sucked. I slumped in my seat, depressed.
After takeoff, Zach spoke to me first. Romeo appeared to be typing emails on his phone, and Oliver’s snores drifted from the couch.
“You’re not suicidal, are you?” He didn’t seem like he genuinely cared, but the fact that he’d asked made me want to sag with relief. At least someone recognized the horridness of my situation.
I shrugged. “Murderous, more like. Why should I be punished for Romeo’s bad behavior?”
“Potomac is nice.”
I shot him a glare. “What’s so nice about it?”
“Its proximity to New York, mostly.”
That earned him a chuckle. Why couldn’t Zach force me into marriage? And what was it about tall, dark, and handsome men with the emotional capacity of an ingrown toenail?
“Don’t encourage her, Zach,” Romeo warned. “Once she starts talking, it’s impossible to stop her.”
Since my future husband was dead set against having me around, I got up and slipped into the cockpit. I’d always wanted to visit one. Growing up, my parents thought it uncouth to peek inside just because we always flew first class.
I slid past the door. “Mind if I look around?”
“Not at all.” The co-pilot waved. “I’m Scott.”
“And I’m Al.” The pilot saluted me with two fingers.
I explored the small space, the many buttons, the thick white clouds we pierced through, surrounded by an inky night.
“You can sit by my side if you’d like.” Scott scooted to give me space. “A bit tight, but you can squeeze in.”
I hesitated. Momma wouldn’t approve. It was improper to sit so close to a man. Then I remembered I was engaged to be married to the reaper of hearts himself, and being inappropriate was my new lifelong goal.
“Okay.” I slipped into his seat, cemented to his side. I leaned down, inventorying the array of buttons and screens. A map lit up his side. My fingers fluttered along a central console full of little switches. “It looks like a spaceship.”
“Nice, huh?” I heard his smile. Al released an impatient sigh. I had a feeling Al wasn’t a fan of his co-pilot cozying up with me. Scott jerked a thumb to his right. “Wait till you see the view from my window. Underneath, it’s a solid white blanket of clouds.”
“I want to see.” I leaned across his body and glanced down the cool glass. He was right. Fluffy clouds curled over one another, thick and dense like snow. “Wow,” I breathed out. “That’s amazing.”
Another thing that was amazing was how my boobs pressed against Scott’s lap in this position. His face was in my hair. I realized I harbored pent-up sexual rage from yesterday’s encounter with my dear fiancé. He never did finish the job.
I was about to straighten back into a sitting position when the cockpit door flung open.
Of course, it was Romeo.
And, of course, from his vantage, it looked like I was sucking Scott off. My head in his lap, my whole body concealing his lower half. Despite the eternal urge to piss him off, I didn’t quite want him to think I went that far.
I rose to my feet, meeting Romeo’s gaze. As always, his expression was resigned and dead.
Obstinate silence filled the small space. Scott broke it first.
“Mr. Costa, I can assure you it is not what it look—”
“Sweetheart.” Romeo surprised me by lacing his hand around my lower back and drawing me to his chest. He grinned, but he didn’t seem amused at all. It looked like someone had carved that smile with a Swiss knife. “Enjoying the cock … pit?”
My goodness, he really thought I’d given Scott sexual favors. Well, I sure as heck wouldn’t fall all over myself, trying to explain my behavior.