Page 9 of Filthy Rich

“Oh my God,” I say, all but swooning in my seat as my head drops back and the flavors wash over me. “This is delicious.”

“I know. That’s why I ordered it.”

His smugness, though well earned, shows every sign of getting to be a problem.

“Is there anything you don’t know?”

“Yes. The biggie.” He attacks his own plate with relish. “How did you become a Bugatti fan?”

Wonderful memories of going to car shows with my dad make me grin. We always followed up by enjoying lunch at Junior’s. I’d always have the pastrami Reuben and a slab of red velvet cheesecake.

“Car shows with my dad the mechanic introduced me to Bugattis. He would have lost his mind if he’d seen your car.”

“Excellent. Are you a lifelong New Yorker?”

“Brooklynite. Bushwick. My dad’s garage was on a corner across from a diner on one side. They made the best French toast. My first job was working there as a dishwasher after school. And there was a bodega on the other side. The library was right down the street. There was a park. My best friends around the corner. It was great.”

“Everything a young girl needs.”

“It really was. What about you? Where did you grow up?”

“My younger brother and I grew up out in Great Neck. Our family home. It’s called Ackerley. No bodega around the corner though, sadly.”

“Speaking of sadly, why did no one ever think to give our apartment building a name?”

Another quick grin. “She’s got jokes, ladies and gentlemen.”

“So do you live at Ackerley most of the time, or in the city?”

“Ackerley. It’s got everything I need.”

“Like what?”

“Peace. Quiet. Space to roam around. A view of the water. My horses. High speed internet. “I laugh and the conversation continues to flow easily after that. All through an amazing dinner and dessert, both of which are fantastic and far better than most things I eat when on the ground back home. I’m not much of a talker normally, but he’s such a good listener that I find myself using up all my stockpiled words with him. Between all the talking and several wellness checks on Mrs. Hooper, half the flight goes by before I know it.

Nature eventually calls. So I grab my amenities kit and make my way to the bathroom. The entire cabin is dark and quiet now, and the only light comes from a flickering screen here and there. Many of the passengers are already stretched out and asleep. Including Mrs. Hooper, who’s snuggled up with Juniper as though they’re sleeping in their own bed back home, thank God. When I tiptoe closer to make sure she’s still got plenty of water, she surprises me by opening her eyes and taking my hand. The movement wakes Juniper, whose little head comes up.

“You forgot my medicine, honey,” she says groggily, trying to sit up.

I tense. These episodes of forgetfulness are becoming more frequent. I make a note to call her niece Penny in Florida and keep her updated.

“No, I didn’t, Mrs. Hooper. I did everything at bedtime, remember? Blood pressure check, finger stick and all your meds. Unless you’re having chest pain or…?”

“No,” she says, settling down again and closing her eyes. “I’m fine. Let me sleep.”

“Let me know if you need anything. I’m right over there.”

She squeezes my hand and lets it go. I hesitate, waiting to make sure she’s okay. But she’s already out like a light again, her breathing slow and deep. Juniper puts her head back down and gives me an I’ve got it from here look.

I relax. All is well.

I check my watch and realize with a sinking heart how late it is. I’m going to be crabby and jet-lagged tomorrow, but I don’t care. I’m determined not to miss a moment of this special night.

But when I get back to my seat, I discover that it’s been converted to a fluffy little five-star bed, complete with a chocolate on my pillow. Exhaustion sets in at the sight of it, and I find it impossible to repress my yawn.

“Get some sleep while you can.” Lucien, who remains sitting, watches me climb under the covers. “I don’t want you to miss out on one of the best benefits of first class. And you’ve got a full day of Mrs. Hooper tomorrow.”

“What about you?”

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