Page 29 of Daddy Billionaire Dragon

“Champagne?” I ask in a falsely bright voice, plastering a falsely bright smile on my face.

She looks at me with confusion clouding her eyes. I don’t wait for her reply. Popping the cork, I pour the champagne into two flutes and hand one to her. She takes it reluctantly.

“Let me give you a tour of the jet,” I say once we’ve clinked our glasses and taken a sip. She is looking at me strangely.

“Lex…” she begins. I bite down a sigh. I don’t want to analyze my thoughts or actions or provide any explanations.

“What?” I say perhaps a little too abruptly.

She shakes her head and takes a sip of her champagne. I do the same, observing her closely. I know the instant she pushes her serious thoughts aside and looks up at me with a fake smile. I feel like a worm.

“Thank you for doing this. I have never been to Europe before. I have always wanted to go to Paris. So how about you give me that tour,” she says, stretching the smile even wider. A part of me is thankful that she’s decided to keep it lighthearted, while the other is telling me that I deserved to be kicked in the nuts. My dragon is itching to do just that.

But I, too, push my thoughts aside and lead her by the arm.

“See this little screen here? It tells us our real-time location,” I say, touching the screen on the partition separating us from the cockpit.

“Wow!” she says with evident enthusiasm. Is she feigning it? I don’t like this. But I can hardly complain, considering my actions.

“Got this flat screen television installed last month. There’s a good selection of movies, if you’re up to it,” I say, pointing to the TV. She nods. The fake smile is still stuck on her face, but her eyes look sad, very sad. I feel like a complete tool. But what else can I do?

Be truthful, my dragon growls.

Shut up! I hiss from the corner of my mouth.

“Excuse me?” Nic is eyeing me with an incredulous expression.

“What?” I say innocently.

“I thought I heard… never mind…” she says with a shrug, walking towards the rear. “What’s through here?” she asks, pointing at the wooden partition in the middle of the plane.

I walk through the partition, motioning her to follow me.

“This here is a tiny walk-in closet,” I say, pointing to her right, switching on the light in the closet.

“Oh!”

“And through here is the bedroom,” I say, stepping into the bedroom on the other side of the closet.

“Wow! An actual bed! Who would’ve thought?” She’s wide-eyed, taking in everything from the plush silk-covered bed, the flat screen television, the wet bar, the dresser. “Is that the bathroom?” she asks, hurrying forward.

“Yeah,” I grin. Her reactions are so refreshingly honest. It’s the one thing I like about her the most. She wears her heart on her sleeve. There is none of the pretentious nonsense I’ve grown accustomed to from the socialites on the rare occasions I do attend the glitzy parties.

But you don’t want her honest reactions, my dragon accuses. I close my eyes briefly, trying to push all uncomfortable thoughts away.

Okay, perhaps we can reach a middle ground, I reason. I will tell Nic exactly what I can and cannot give. That way, I won’t be making any false promises. I have already made my intentions clear before, but one more time won’t hurt.

“Sir, we’re ready for takeoff,” the flight attendant peeps in through the partition separating the living area from the bedroom.

We head back to the living area and sit in sofa chairs next to the couch, strapping ourselves in. We are sitting across a table, facing each other. Within moments, we are airborne.

Nic is looking out of the window as we climb higher and higher. When she notices me looking at her, she throws a bright smile at me. Perhaps a little too bright. I curse under my breath, reach forward, and take her free hand in mine.

“Nic…” I begin, but suddenly feel tongue-tied. How do I say what I want to say without coming off as a total jerk?

“So we’ll be in Paris early morning?” she asks me, trying to smooth over the awkward moment. But I don’t want us to be awkward around each other. I don’t want meaningless, shallow conversation with Nic. I care about her, damn it. It might not be in the way she probably expects me to care, but I care about her very much.

With difficulty, I bring my attention to the Rolex on my wrist.

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