Chapter 34

We were only fifteen minutes into the flight, and already, I was wishing for a parachute.

Or a barf bag.

Across from me, the leggy brunette leaned closer to Zane and practically cooed, "I just love your plane."

He gave her a dismissive glance. "It's not mine. It's the company's."

"Oh, stop," she laughed, reaching for his arm. "You are the company."

This much was true, but I was in no mood to give her credit. Already, she'd taken seventeen selfies – yes, I was counting – and had made so many sexual innuendos, that I was starting to wonder if her dialogue was pulled straight out of a porno.

Right on cue, she pressed her lips to Zane's ear and said in a husky whisper, "Do you think we're a mile high?"

I tensed. The reference was obvious – and pretty darn disturbing, considering that I was sitting directly across from them, facing them no less, in the luxurious seating area.

This was only my fourth flight in my entire life, and it was proving to be the most uncomfortable, in spite of it being my very first on a private jet. Oh sure, the seats were leather, and I had plenty of leg room, but at the moment, I was longing to be crammed in like a sardine with a hundred other poor slobs on their way to some anonymous destination.

At least then, I wouldn't be watching my boss get drooled on – or worse, if things progressed the way she obviously wanted.

As for me, I'd pulled out a paperback and was pretending to read while she continued to seek his attention. The sad thing was, I wanted to read. It's just that it was difficult to focus on anything when she looked ready to get down and dirty any minute.

Trying to be subtle, I snuck a quick glance at Zane. He looked bored and restless, even as he scrolled through his cell phone, checking messages – or hell, surfing porn for all I knew.

As for his companion, I didn't even know her name, mostly because Zane hadn't bothered to introduce us, and my own initial attempts at friendliness were either rebuffed or ignored as the brunette turned all of her charm on the billionaire sitting next to her.

The only saving grace was that I wasn't the only other passenger on the flight. Sitting next to me was the same blond guy who'd been sticking up for Paisley in the lobby.

This might've given me someone to talk to, if it weren't for the fact that he was obviously still miffed about the whole Paisley thing. Oh sure, he'd briefly introduced himself, giving his name as Theodore without mentioning a last name at all. But then, immediately afterward, he'd settled into a quiet sulk and said nothing to anyone.

From the look on his face, he hated us all – probably, me in particular, since I was apparently the ho-bag who screwed her roommate's boyfriend and made her cry.

Yup, I was a monster.

Across from me, the brunette gripped Zane's knee and said, "You're so tense. Should I rub your shoulders?" And yet, it wasn't a shoulder she had her eye on.

Zane didn't even look. "No."

Her hand moved higher on his thigh. "Something else then?"

Zane was still scrolling. "No."

Her hand inched a fraction higher. "Are you sure?"

He pulled his gaze from his phone and gave her a long, cold look. After an awkward pause, she pulled back and asked, "What's wrong? You weren't tense last night." She gave a throaty laugh. "Even if you were stiff."

Well, that was lovely to know.

Zane told her, "If you wanna fuck someone, try him."

She drew back. "What?"

Zane flicked his head toward the guy sitting next to me. "Looks like he could use it."

The brunette gave a huff. "I don't want him."

"And I don't want you," Zane said. "So try someone else, or keep your clothes on."

Her mouth tightened. "You wanted me fine last night."

"Yeah. And I told you it was a one-time deal."

She was openly pouting now. "But we had such a good time."

"And it's over. So move on." He looked back to his phone. "Or sit with the luggage. Your choice."

"But…" She paused, as if unsure what to say next.

The blond guy, who'd been watching this exchange with obvious disgust, looked to Zane and said, "Hey! I don't need your sloppy seconds."

The brunette turned to glare at him. "I'm not sloppy. I'm tight as a virgin. Ask anyone."

I looked around, longing for a flight attendant with a drink cart. Unfortunately, there were none, which only proved that I'd been right all along.

Private jets sucked.

The brunette's gaze snapped in my direction, "What are you looking at?"

"I, uh—"

In a bored tone, Zane said, "Leave her alone."

"Why should I leave her alone," she demanded. "It was supposed be just the two of us. She's the third wheel, not me."

I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "What?"

"Oh yeah," she said, giving me a smirk. "You didn't know?"

No. I didn't. In fact, everything about this trip had caught me completely by surprise.

Into my silence she continued, "It was supposed to be just me and Zane."

Was that true?

I looked to Zane, wondering what he'd say. But he didn't say anything. Instead, he leisurely got to his feet and headed past me, toward the front of the plane.

I didn't even turn to watch him go, but I was pretty sure that if he returned with a drink, I'd be ripping it from his clutches and guzzling it down before he could say, "Welcome to the flight from hell."

The brunette eyed me with clear disdain. "And then you show up." She glanced at the guy sitting next to me, and her mouth twisted into something surprising ugly for someone so beautiful. "With him."

I looked to the guy in question. "I'm not with him."

The guy grumbled, "That's for sure."

It was obviously an insult. I asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

The guy looked to the brunette and announced, "She's sleeping with her roommate's boyfriend."

Oh, for God's sake. Through clenched teeth, I said, "I am not. I don't even like him."

The guy made a sound that I couldn’t quite decipher. A scoff? A snort? What?

I told the guy, "If you have something to say, just say it."

As an answer, he reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a familiar-looking pink card. I snatched it from his fingers and gave it a quick glance.

Immediately, I felt color rise to my cheeks. It was the card that had accompanied the flowers. Apparently, he'd scooped it up from the lobby floor as some sort of secondhand keepsake.

I had to wonder, why would he do such a thing?

To humiliate me in front of Miss Tight-as-a-Virgin?

To prove to my boss that I was a terrible person?

Or, because the guy was just that annoying?

I was still staring at the card when it was abruptly snatched from my fingers. I looked up just in time to see the brunette scanning the hand-written message. With a laugh, she read the note out loud. "Wet yet?"

Hearing this, I couldn’t help but cringe all over again. It was either the worst flower-watering instructions I'd ever heard, or something a whole lot more suggestive.

The brunette tossed the card aside. "This is nothing. What's the big deal?"

The guy next to me explained, "It's from her roommate's boyfriend." He looked back to me and said, "Or, are you gonna deny that, too?"

By now, I was pretty sure I hated the guy. I said, "What do you care?"

Ignoring my question, he looked back to the brunette and said, "So if I were you, I'd keep an eye on her."

Well, that was rich. Already, the brunette was giving me the squinty-eye, as if I were personally responsible for her failure to get down and dirty at fifty-thousand feet, or however high we were. About the altitude, I didn't know, and I didn't care. At this point, all I cared about was the drink cart – or lack thereof.

The thought had barely crossed my mind when Zane returned and settled himself back into his seat without uttering a single word.

I looked to his hands.

No drink.

Damn it.

I was still dealing with that disappointment when something in our flight seemed to change, like we were slowing down or maybe changing altitude. Being such a newbie, I couldn't quite figure it out until Zane said, "Buckle up. We're landing in ten."

Ten minutes? That couldn’t be right. We were still a long way from New York.

Weren't we?

The brunette looked toward the nearest window. "We are?"

As for Zane, he was once again scrolling through his cell phone. He didn't answer the question.

The blond guy looked to his watch. "All right, I'll play along. Where are we landing?"

Zane didn't even look up. "Kalamazoo."

The brunette said, "Kalama-who?"

"Kalamazoo," Zane repeated. "Michigan."

"What? Why?" She looked toward the cockpit area. "Don't tell me there's a problem with the plane?"

Zane said, "All right."

Again, she turned to look. "So there is a problem?"

Zane was still scrolling. "No."

"I don't understand," she said. "We're going to New York."

"We are," Zane said. "You aren't."