“Mrs. Hartwell?”

I looked out the window. There was nothing beneath us but miles of Pacific Ocean. Every once in a while we zipped over a white puffy cloud.

“Mrs. Hartwell?” “Would you like a glass?”

Jeremy poked me in the ribs. “That’s you.”

“Oh.” I turned to the flight attendant. She extended a glass of champagne over Jeremy’s laptop. “Sorry, and thank you for the champagne.”

I shook my head. I didn’t know when I’d get used to the fact that I had a different last name now. Jeremy’s last name. I was no longer Evelyn Rossi. I was Mrs. Jeremy Hartwell. It was something I needed to practice when I was in the shower, or at least rehearse when I brushed my teeth every night. Maybe I should set phone reminders or scribble it on my palm. Evie Hartwell.

“We’re going to have to work on that.” He winked when the attendant left us alone.

“What’s that?” I asked, hoping the champagne would relieve some of the anxiety I had about flying this kind of distance. It was only this morning we were in New York, and now we were hovering over the ocean. I swallowed hard.

“Your name.” He held a glass too, while he scoured emails on his laptop. “It’s understandable it would take some time to adjust to a new name, but that can’t last long, Evie. Not with the kind of pressure we’re under. You need to be sharper. More in tune to who could be watching and listening.”

My eyes cut sideways toward my handsome new husband. “I wasn’t paying attention.” I defended myself. “There’s nothing but ocean down there. Did you know that? I can’t see any land. No islands. No birds flying. Nothing.”

He grinned his million-dollar smile. It was aggravating that he looked sexy in every situation. It was the crystal blue eyes that seemed to smolder no matter what he was saying. “You aren’t scared, are you?”

My eyes narrowed. “Are you making fun of me?”

He finished off the champagne and dropped it off on the next attendant’s tray as she walked through the aisle. He pushed back, giving himself more room to work. Even with all the space, his athletic body took up much of the compartment.

“I’m not making fun, but we flew on the jet the other night. You were fine. You’ve never mentioned you were afraid to fly.”

“There was land underneath us then. Now there isn’t.” I closed the shade on the window. I was better off not seeing the ocean water below. “I’m not afraid. Just concerned,” I lied.

Jeremy chuckled. “We’ll be in Tahiti in four hours. Why don’t you sleep? It will go by faster for you. Press that button there and grab one of those silk pillows.” He pointed to the computer screen that operated our custom seating.

I sighed. He was focused on work. I could tell when his brow was furrowed and his eyes had that intense look that something was distracting him. Something that had nothing to do with me.

I unclipped my seatbelt. I wasn’t sure why I still had it fastened. “I think I’ll walk around a little.”

He shrugged. “Ok. I have to answer these. I’ll be working the rest of the flight.”

“I know.” I tried to hide my disappointment. Small things like this reminded me we weren’t real newlyweds, not in the sense everyone else thought. There might be a honeymoon at the end of this flight, but it had one glaring purpose—to make sure I left Tahiti pregnant.

I walked around him. I was still amazed we had been able to book a first class traveling cabin on such little notice. It was only last night that Jeremy announced to a bunch of reporters and the world that we were going to Tahiti. He surprised everyone at the press conference, including me, when he revealed the plan to celebrate our elopement. I knew it was a publicity stunt, but it didn’t mean I wasn’t excited.

The cabin was wide enough for each of us to have wide leather cushioned seats that converted into full-length sleeping beds. There were built-in flats screens, small trays for our drinks and meals, and a gorgeous vase of purple orchids.

A small chest-high sliding door divided our room from the other passengers. I moved the intricate bamboo door and entered the aisle. Maybe a walk around the plane would distract me from the bottomless ocean. My palms were starting to sweat. I had to move my body and stay busy.

“Oh, Mrs. Hartwell, is there something I can bring to your pod?” The same flight attendant greeted me when I was a few steps from our quarters. “Does Mr. Hartwell need something?”

“No. I wanted to stretch my legs,” I explained. “They’re feeling a little cramped.” I kept my sudden flight anxiety to myself. She flew this trip almost every day. I would sound silly if I launched into an explanation of how I couldn’t stop picturing us plummeting into shark-infested waters.

“Would you like me to get the spa ready for you? You could take a shower. That might help if you’re uncomfortable. It’s very relaxing,” she offered. “We also offer a variety of facial and massage services. I can check the schedule for the rest of the flight.”

“On the plane?” My mouth dropped. “While we are flying? You do that?”

She smiled. I sounded like a complete luxury flying virgin, but I’d never traveled like this before. Flying on Jeremy’s private jet a few nights ago had been a first. Now this. I’d never even heard of this airline until we boarded at the airport. But I wasn’t the kind of girl who flew first class or bought five-thousand dollar tickets on elite airlines. I was a waitress from Newton Hills, Georgia, until the night Jeremy Hartwell stumbled in with an agenda.

She clasped her hands together. The orchid in her hair was as white as her teeth. “Yes, ma’am. I’d be happy to bring a list of our services and I will book your appointments. How does that sound?”

I didn’t know if there was an extra cost to this level of luxury. I had a feeling that was the kind of thing a newbie would ask. “That sounds lovely,” I answered. “I’ll be in my pod.”

I pivoted on my heels in the middle of the aisle and walked back to the sliding door of our compartment. Jeremy didn’t look up when I latched it behind me. I settled into my seat, waiting for the menu.

I was wearing a new dress. Everything in my wardrobe was new. I liked the light pink blush. It felt delicate and feminine. If I was willing to admit it, it was bridal. It was exactly the kind of dress a woman would wear on her honeymoon. Something soft and alluring, but not over the top sexy. I twisted my lips together while Jeremy hammered out something on his keyboard.

A few minutes later the attendant returned.

“For you, Mrs. Hartwell.”

I didn’t hesitate when she used my name. I took the leather-bound book. “Thank you.”

Jeremy looked up. “What’s that?”

“I’m going to try the spa treatments.”

“Hmm.” He scowled.

I traced over the list and decided on the hour-long steam shower followed by a thirty-minute massage. The fine print said I could use the dressing room amenities for up to thirty minutes with my treatments. That would cut two hours off the rest of the flight. Maybe I could sleep afterward.

I returned the menu after I explained my selections.

“I’ll have that ready for you in a few minutes, Mrs. Hartwell.”

“Thank you.” I grinned. I sank into my reclining chair, already feeling more relaxed.

The flight attendant returned with a pair of fluffy spa slippers. She handed them to me over Jeremy. “These are for your walk to the shower. The rooms are ready for you.”

I slid my feet inside, wiggling my toes.

I rose from my seat.

“Where are you going?” He looked up.

I exhaled. “I’m going to the spa shower. I have to do something while you work.”

He nodded. “Probably a good idea. Sasha has sent two contracts for me to review and they are both complete pieces of shit. I have to rewrite entire sections and have her confirm that the final numbers are what we agreed on last week.”

“All right.” I stepped past his expensive leather shoes. I had a lot to learn about running a sports industry empire. It was going to take time to understand Jeremy’s world. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours I guess.”

I scooted out and followed my guide to the shower. I was overly curious to see how the rooms were laid out. I didn’t know passenger airplanes did things like this. She ushered me onto the right side of the plane and explained that the dressing room was private. I wouldn’t share it during my reservation. Also, the steam and regular shower were one unit. If I only wanted steam all I had to do was turn off the water.

I nodded at all her explanations. “Thank you. I think I’m going to enjoy this part of the flight.” I smiled.

She moved to close the door. “There is a call button if you need anything or have any questions. The door locks from the inside, but I have an emergency key. You won’t be disturbed.”

The door closed and I turned in a slow circle. This was completely unreal. It wasn’t spacious, but it was the epitome of luxury. I ran a finger over the marble countertop and took a second to trace the pink orchid petals. I turned the shower to a high-steam setting. I kicked off the airline’s special slippers and began to undress.

I didn’t want my honeymoon outfit to wrinkle. I carefully hung it on a mahogany hanger and slipped the blush lace bra in a drawer, deciding at the last minute to keep the matching panties on. I opened the glass door and sat on the marble tile. The fragrant steam billowed around me. I inhaled deeply, feeling the tension in my shoulders release. I decided I wasn’t going to let myself feel guilty for being rich. This was wonderful.

How could I feel anxious when I was in a steam shower? Once we landed, I had nothing ahead of me but Tahitian resort living. Jeremy promised me at least a week on the island, but we could stay longer. I was hoping for ten days. Ten full days of honeymoon bliss.

Ten days we were supposed to focus on getting me pregnant. I leaned my head into the wall.

So far getting pregnant hadn’t been easy for me. I thought if I pumped myself full of fertility drugs, it would happen eventually. But after the last round of treatments, I wasn’t sure if my body or my heart could keep up the cycle. Part of me always blamed the doctors or the bad sperm selection I chose. There had to be a reason. Someone miscalculated when I should be ovulating. Someone thawed the sperm incorrectly. Someone gave me the wrong dosage of hormones.

I closed my eyes, feeling the embrace of the steam. I smiled. It was almost as if the clouds were trying to hold me. Flying like this wasn’t so bad. I wondered if I could sleep in here. I did have ninety minutes to myself before the massage.

My eyes flew open when I heard the dressing room door close. I quickly crossed my hands over my breasts. I couldn’t see who was on the other side of the glass door, but I hadn’t paged the attendant to return. Shit. She was going to see me naked. Of course my towel wasn’t anywhere close by.

I huddled in the corner of the marble, trying to conceal my skimpy panties and my breasts. What was she doing in here?

Just then the shower door opened. I blinked, staring up into my favorite pair of incredibly sexy eyes.

“Mrs. Hartwell, it doesn’t look like you were waiting for me.” Jeremy began to peel the shirt over his head. I gawked at his gorgeous abs.

“How did you even know I was here?” I asked, letting my hands fall away. “You aren’t supposed to have a key,” I lectured.

“I was listening. And Hilde was accommodating.” He shirked out of his pants and kicked them off his feet. He walked inside, closing the door behind him.

“I didn’t think you were paying any attention.” I rose slowly from the seat, brushing my nipples against his chest. They hardened at the contact of his skin.

This man did something to me. He made my pulse rapid. He made my breath hitch. He made my head spin.

He tipped my chin upward. “I’m always paying attention.”

His lips crushed mine as our mouths moved in hungry unison, sucking, teasing, biting. His hand palmed my stomach before dipping between my legs. I moaned as he parted my folds with his forceful fingers. I was putty in his hands. Molding and bending to his demands. And it felt so damn good.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to do this in here,” I whispered. “What if Hilde catches us?” I gasped when he pushed a finger inside me.

Jer tugged on my earlobe with his teeth. “You’re cute. Do you know that?” He waggled his eyebrows as he worked the remnants of the lacy thong down my thighs.

I threw my arms around his neck. My hips rocked forward. “How cute?” I taunted. My eyes locked on his. Sometimes that look was enough to make my insides quiver and vibrate.

Why did Jeremy Hartwell marry me? Why did he choose me for this insane scheme? Why had I gone along with it so easily?

“Fucking edible,” he growled, dropping to his knees.

I smiled.