I step onto the company’s private jet in black sweatpants, a pink Marilyn Monroe t-shirt, and a grey hooded zip-up sweatshirt, nothing but flip flops on my feet. My hair is pulled back into a messy bun, and I’m in travel mode. Unless I’m going on a two-hour trip, and have someone to impress, I travel like a bum. I want to be comfortable, especially when I’m going to be on a plane for six hours.

I set my laptop case down on the seat next to mine, toward the back of the plane, and sit down. I immediately recline the seat and get ready for my motion sickness meds to kick in. All these years and I still get sick. You would think someone who grew up living in a moving house wouldn't be so screwed up by traveling.

I close my eyes, only to be interrupted by the sound of Levi talking with the flight attendant. His voice sends a shockwave through me. I return my seat to the upright position, and notice his eyes on me.

“You feeling okay?” he asks, moving my carry-on to the floor and sitting down next to me. He looks incredibly dapper in his custom suit, a striking difference to my extreme casual wear.

“I'm fine. I don't travel well. Motion sickness.” I recline my seat back again.

“I don't think I have ever seen you dressed down, Seven.” He lets out a laugh, and I decide as much as I want nothing to do with him, I love his laugh. It reminds me of a carefree child. Or maybe a teenage boy. Certainly not the businessman sitting next to me.

“When I travel, I like comfort. I couldn't imagine being stuck on a plane for six hours in some of the clothes you have seen me in.” I poke fun at him, and myself, lightening the mood before we embark across the Atlantic.

He leans in close before he whispers in my ear, “That lingerie from the other night would have been perfect for this flight.” His words send a shiver down my spine, as goosebumps spread across my entire body. I laugh and shoo him off with my hand.

I summon the flight attendant with a request before I settle in for a short nap.

“Once we get in the air, can I have a glass of ginger ale?” Anything to settle my stomach. The bubbly blonde enthusiastically agrees, and we brace for takeoff. My least favorite part of traveling.

My fist clutches the armrest, as my heart pounds against my chest. Anxiety, holy anxiety. I should have grabbed a Xanax for this. Shit. I feel a hand rest on my whitened knuckles, but I don't look up. My fist unclenches, and my fingers lace between the strong hand offering comfort. I hold on for dear life, and a short while later, we are safely in the air. But the strong hold I have on Levi's hand never breaks, and I fall fast asleep as the Dramamine kicks in.

* * *

“What time is it?” I lift my arm to rub my eyes, only to discover my right hand is still firmly connected to Levi's. I couldn't have been asleep that long.

“Noon.” Four hours. Four long hours and he didn't move so I could sleep; he never gave up the grip of my hand.

I quickly withdraw my hand, and unbuckle the seatbelt, which is cutting off circulation to my damn hip. “Excuse me, do you think I can get a glass of ice when you have a moment?” I ask the blonde, before heading to the bathroom.

Behind the closed door, I stare at my hand. What the fuck is wrong with me? I look at my reflection in the mirror and think back to everything I have hated about myself over the years.

“Seven, you are too uptight,” Blue said, passing me a joint. “You’re the oddball of the family; let your hair down.” My brother always could find a way to make me feel alienated.

“Leave her alone, Blue.” Star sat down on the makeshift bed next to me, taking the joint from my hand and pressing it between her pink lips. “Making fun of her isn't going to change who she is. She shouldn't have to change anyway. She is fine the way she is,” she continued, looking at my brother with disgust. She hated him, absolutely loathed everything about him.

“Whatever. She is fucking useless, anyway,” he said while he stood to walk away, with the joint secured between his fingers. “I'm outta here; see you bitches later.”

I shook my head, and thanked my lucky stars he was finally leaving.

“He is such a dick.” I turned to Star and laid my head in her lap. I never got used to the verbal abuse from my older brother. He made it clear my entire life that I was never wanted. Not by him, and certainly not by my parents. He was thirteen when I was born, and resented me every day since.

“Don't listen to him, Seven. He is only trying to get you upset.” Star ran her fingers through my hair. “I'm gonna head out for a little bit. You gonna be okay alone?” she asked with genuine concern.

“Yeah, I actually think I’m going to go out for a walk by the lake. It’s a clear night; I want to see the stars.”

I stood up and made my way out of the old bus. I never thought I would come back hours later to my best friend, and the woman I loved, fucking my brother.

Looking up at the bathroom mirror, I want to punch it. Smash it into a thousand pieces while we fly somewhere over the massive Atlantic Ocean. I rip my hooded sweatshirt off, tossing it onto the floor of the tiny airplane bathroom floor. Gazing down at my tattoo-covered arms, I run my finger across a long, thin scar, jagged across my wrist, now covered by a vibrant blue rose. When I had all the scars from my years of cutting covered up, I privately hoped it would help to cover the memories that drove me into self-harm. The years have helped repress the memories, but they will never fully be gone.

Turning on the sink, I splash some water on my face; I pull the bun out of my hair and let it flow wildly down my back. I open the door, and return to my seat, a different person than I was when I left Levi's side. As much as I don't want to admit it, there has to be some kind of multiple personality disorder creeping within my broken soul.

“Everything okay, Seven?” He runs his gaze over my bare arms, and back to my face.

“Fine,” I shortly reply.

Levi shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to put space between us. I guess my mood radiates through the air. “Marilyn as in Monroe, huh?”

His question catches me off guard. I didn't expect him to put it together, but I also forgot about the Marilyn Monroe shirt I’d chosen for my trip. “Yeah.” I turn to face him, breaking a small hint of a smile for him.

“Mind me asking about what happened with Daniel?”

“I called him into my office yesterday.” I had, and I wasn't nice at all.

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing, announcing our past to the board?” I screamed the moment he walked through my office door. Once the latch clicked, my temper unleashed. His face showed no sign of remorse.

Shrugging his shoulders he replied, “I didn't think it would get back to you.”

What the fuck kind of explanation was that?

“And that makes it okay?” I stomped toward him, rounding my desk, wanting to lay him out with a single punch.

“Seven, you know how guys are.” He lifted his hand up in defense.

“How ‘guys are?’ Seriously, Daniel? This is a fucking business, not a frat house.” My pulse raced, and my face stayed pressed into a firm scowl.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave for the day while I work with human resources on how to handle this. Please do not return until I call you.” I turned, striding behind my desk and sitting down. I looked up to wave him off; he was frozen in shock.

“What?” he asked, dazed and confused. Had he thought I would just let him walk all over me? Ha!

“You heard exactly what I said, Daniel. You are to leave until I call you. This is not something that will be taken lightly. Insubordination, and sexual harassment, is a serious boardroom problem, and it will not be tolerated. You are dismissed.” I picked up the phone, dialing HR, as he walked for the door.

“You are going to regret this, Seven.” He tried to get the last word in, just before Ellen, the director of HR picked up the phone.

I countered, “Not nearly as much as you, Daniel.”

The door closed and I set up a meeting with Ellen, bringing her up to speed with the newest issue on my plate of overflowing nonsense at Alexander Mobile.

I explain the Cliff’s Notes version of the morning, filling Levi in on Ellen's suggestion of removing him from the board of directors, something that made me absolutely giddy. His fuck up wasn't part of my original takeover plan, but it worked out perfectly.

“Wow, well, I can't say that scumbag didn't deserve it,” Levi says. Aren't these guys supposed to like each other?

“Aren't you friends with Daniel?”

He smiles like the Cheshire Cat. “Seven, I hate the guy. Have you ever heard of the term ‘frienemies?’” Maybe Levi would be a more valuable asset than I originally thought?

“Yeah, I guess. I never thought men actually acted that way.” I shrug, and pull my laptop out to tackle some work before we touch down in London in a couple hours.

“Seven, he is a piece of shit. He cheats on his wife, and he cheats in business, but everyone has to be nice to him because of his position. Well, had to, I guess.” He scrolls through his cellphone, as he types on the keys of his Blackberry. He tosses the phone onto the tiny tray in front of him in a huff.

I wonder whether or not I should even ask. If it was anyone else, I am positive I wouldn't. I care; I refuse to admit it, but I do.

My heart thumps in my ears, while I stop eying my own email, and I turn to face him. “Everything okay?” Praying he shrugs me off, I start to turn away. I feel his finger run down my arm, stopping when it reaches my wrist.

“Can I talk to you as a friend, because I think that’s what I need right now. Not a lover, or a boss. But a genuine friend,” he pleads with me.

I can't help but be the friend he needs right now. I lock my fingers with his, and give his hand a squeeze. “Yeah, I can be that friend.” The walls I have been carefully building to keep him out continue to crumble as I repair each missing brick, another falls at the other end. I’m fighting a losing battle, and there is nothing I can do about it.

It is a scary feeling. I have been so careful to remain in control of my post-Daniel life, and here Levi is, carefully breaking down every defense I have carefully orchestrated over the years.

“My ex-wife is a real bitch. She is doing everything she can to squeeze more money out of the alimony settlement; she already gets over thirty grand a month. I don't know what game she’s playing, but she’s threatening me with personal shit now. I don't know what else to do.” His fingers run through his messy brown hair, as he leans his head back against the plush leather plane seat, and he lets out a deep sigh.

I think of something comforting to say, but I don't have a comforting bone in my fucked up body. “Hit her where it hurts.” Revenge is how I roll. I just can't understand the whole process of being upset and sappy over something when you can take charge and take over.

“I don't even know where to start. The only way to hurt her is with money. I can't get out of alimony without violating the court order. Not worth going to jail over.”

Do I really have to teach this boy everything? “Did you hire a PI before you divorced?” Excuse me for thinking everyone out there doesn't have an ulterior motive; with my track record, I don't trust anyone.

“No, I never even thought of it.” For someone in such big business, he certainly is trusting.

I try to think of the best way to put it without coming across as cold-hearted as I am. “Hmmm. Well, I’ll call my personal PI once we land in London. Give me her name, and some general info. I will get some dirt dug up. She thinks she has the upper hand; you have to put a stop to that.” I try to tone down my brazen attitude, but fail miserably. Maybe my lack of empathy, and caring, will drive him far away. This could work to my benefit after all.

“Once we get the upper hand, we’ll formulate a plan, feed some information to your divorce attorney, and you can probably get her stripped of the alimony altogether.” I shrug, and run the pad of my thumb across his fingers. “It may be a long shot, but most of those trophy wife bitches are hiding some kind of skeleton in their closet. You just have to find out what it is.”

“Thanks, Seven.” It’s all he says before releasing my hand, and going back to work.

* * *

“What do you call this?” Levi asks, as he looks around the spacious foyer of the Empire Suite. The spacious pale yellow room is elegantly accented with rich hardwood flooring, modern chandeliers, and chic furniture. Two hallways run across from each other, one leading to the grand master suite, the other leading to two smaller, but just as impressive, bedrooms, all with attached en suite bathrooms.

I turn to the bellboy tucking a tip into his palm and sending him on his way. The dirty looks I have been getting from this boy, barely out of puberty, pisses me off. I don't want to come across as a complete cunt to the hotel staff, so I send him on his way. Apparently tattooed trash isn't typical in their designer suites.

“I call this exactly how I travel. If I have to be out of my penthouse, this is where I need to be resting my head at night. And with the amount of bullshit I am going to have to deal with here in London, I wasn't settling for anything less.” I slide my suitcase off the bellboy's cart, and tug it behind me in the direction of the master suite. “You can pick whichever room suits your needs best.” As I enter the bedroom, I can see Levi removing his suitcase, and starting in the opposite direction.

The only thing I need right now is a fucking shower. I hate flying; it always makes me feel gross. I open my suitcase, digging for my girly products, all my toiletries I never leave the country without, along with my petite makeup bag. Just enough for my less than extravagant taste in makeup. Of course, I packed them all the way at the fucking bottom of the suitcase. Isn't that how it always goes?

By the time I discover the bag I’m looking for, it looks like a bomb went off across the bed. My clothes are thrown everywhere like a band of gypsies ransacked the place. I really wish I had my housekeeper right about now.

I’ll deal with it after I wash off the funk of the flight. I slide my sweatpants off, leaving my green satin panties in place, before tugging off my Marilyn Monroe t-shirt and tossing it onto the giant king size bed. I unclasp the black lace bra, throwing it alongside the discarded t-shirt, and make my way to the sprawling bathroom. The shower has room for a half dozen people - with no privacy at all. Two sliding glass doors stand in place next to the enormous marble Jacuzzi bathtub. It rivals my own personal tub back home. This is one of the reasons I always come back to this London gem. I open a single glass door, and turn on the shower. I grab the missing bag of toiletries while the water heats up to the perfect scalding temperature. Honestly, the heat of my showers would probably cause third degree burns on most sane people, but for me, it is nothing short of refreshing. Sliding my panties down my legs, I kick them to the side, and step in to the shower. Placing my bag of soaps on the stone shelf in the corner, I adjust the water setting and let the hot water cascade over my body.

I run my fingers through my long hair, then slowly turn around while I close my eyes, letting the steaming water run over my face. It feels nothing short of fucking amazing. I totally needed this to decompress and collect my thoughts. I turn once again, letting the water spray down my back. I lift my hands to wipe my face, and when I flicker my eyes open, all I can see is Levi, standing in the shower stall across from me, wearing nothing but a mischievous smirk, slowly stroking his erection. Creeper!

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I kind of want to punch him in the balls. What the fuck makes him think it’s okay just to stroll into my bedroom, and bathroom, and invade my privacy on this level?

On the other hand, watching him slowly stroke his dick gets my juices flowing. He parts his lips, like he is actually going to answer my question, but he only runs his tongue along his bottom lip before pressing them tightly together.

A long moment passes as we stare at each other. My gaze occasionally lowers to watch the show he is putting on for me. He never makes a move for me, keeping his distance.

He finally answers me. “What am I doing, Seven? I’m enjoying the show.” He pauses once again, almost as if he must catch his breath, “I came to ask you about dinner for the night, when I heard the water running. The thought of you naked on the other side of that door did bad things to me. I couldn't help myself. I just had to see your flesh again.”

I listen to him and wonder why, for the first time in my life, someone is having this profound of an impact on me. Levi is like a drug I just can't get enough of. I want to overdose on him until I fall into a sex-induced coma, only coming back to life once he is fully out of my system, and I am once again safe. I know I shouldn't make a move, but his show has me beyond horny. I am at needs to fuck def-con level three-thousand.

My nipples stand at attention, as my bare pussy starts to swell with anticipation of his homecoming. I step toward him with one thought on my mind, tasting the glistening precum dripping from the tip of his impressive length. This is totally out of character for me, but even if I wanted to stop, I couldn't. My body is on autopilot and Levi is in charge.

I take another step, before I drop to my knees. I look up at him, making eye contact, as we exchange power without speaking a single word. I wrap my tiny hand around his cock and guide it into my mouth. Slowly teasing the tip, I lick the salty and sweet mixture of his arousal before wrapping my lips around his length and plunging it down my throat. Levi lets out a grunt of appreciation, while tangling his fingers through my wet hair. He grips it tightly, and it hurts, but the pain is nothing but pleasure. If he only knew hair pulling was the one thing that turned me into a wild woman, I am confident he would be pulling even harder.

I run my tongue down the bottom of his beautiful shaft as he pulls out, and thrusts back in, fucking my face at a growing pace. My free hand grasps his heavy balls, squeezing and massaging them roughly.

His body starts to tense, as he leans against the stone lined shower, never missing a thrust down my hungry throat. His balls tighten as his pace increases. I can feel the twitches in his dick, and I know he is about to empty down my throat. For the first time ever, I am beyond hot over the idea.

“Oh, fuck. Seven!” he yells, followed by a deep growl. His semen fills my waiting mouth and pulses straight down my throat. He pulls out mid-orgasm and continues his release all over my face. Stream-by-stream, his seed covers my face. It falls onto my cheeks, and in between my lips, onto my waiting tongue, while he continues to work his dick, ensuring every last drop covers my face. With the last burst of come, he turns and walks out of the shower, leaving me alone, and covered in his semen. Well-played, you son of a bitch. Not only am I hot as fuck, and in need of my own relief, but he just completely mind-fucked me. Game. On.

* * *

He sits across from me with a smug grin on his face, eating bite after bite of his salmon. I push the chicken parm around on my plate with absolutely no appetite. Still within the confines of our luxurious suite, we’ve opted for a room service-catered evening. After the brain beating I took in the shower, I had no desire to leave my bathroom, let alone face the world.

“You really aren't going to talk to me?” he questions, reaching for a glass of red wine sitting in front of him on the table. As the glass meets his lips, I finally decide to give in.

“What is there to talk about, Levi?”

The fact is, we have the most fucked up relationship on planet Earth. I don't want to want him, but I do. He wants more than I will ever be able to give him, or at least I think he does. And we’re forced to work together in the most uncomfortable situation ever.

During the day, we opened the door for some kind of friendship, as I offered to help him fend off the claws of his ex-wife. I, Seven Fucking James, was helping a guy, whom I’m fucking, fend off his ex-wife. Ex. Wife. I might as well start waving a little white flag in surrender, because no matter the outcome, it was going to be downright fucking bad.

“What happened earlier?” His voice drips with sarcasm, as I try not to lunge across the table and strangle him to death. I’m pretty damn close.

“Oh, you mean when you came into my shower and busted a load on my face without letting me return the favor?” I try to brush it off like his actions don't bother me in the least, but it’s clear that he can see right through me.

“Seven, I don't know what kind of game we’re playing. But I am kind of over the game portion of things.” He’s trying to take charge of the situation, and in a way, it’s sort of cute.

“What game, Levi? I told you it was a one-night thing. You wouldn't leave it at that. So I tried to push you away with the threesome with another guy. The only thing that did was drive you closer. I don't know what else to do to push you away. I don't do whatever this is.” I wave between us with my fork, before tossing it down onto the plate in front of me and pushing my chair out. “We have to work together for this week, Levi. Please, don't make this any more uncomfortable than it is already going to be.” I stand on shaky legs, praying he can't tell my body is blatantly betraying the tough front I’m putting on. My bare feet pad down the hardwood floor toward the bedroom.

I hear his chair push out from the table, and footsteps in the distance, but I don't look back to see where they lead.

“Seven,” he speaks, waiting for a response. I pause outside of my door, hand on the knob. I turn toward him, locking gazes and he speaks. “Just give it a chance. A fucking chance. That is all I am asking you for.”

I turn, facing the bedroom door. “I’ll think about it.” I close the door behind me. Fuck.