Page 25 of Bitter Secrets

He mocked her by pressing a tender kiss to her temple before he arranged her so her head rested on his shoulder and retrieved his phone from his pocket. She lay stock-still, wary of drawing his attention, as he began to thumb through his emails as if nothing had happened. What the hell wasthat? Was it just yesterday that she told Lyle that Roth was one of the most composed, coolheaded people she knew? The only time he lost control in the past was when she provoked him sexually. Now his temper was right beneath the surface, on constant simmer. Who was the real James Roth? The rational, self-controlled businessman, or the man who would commit violent acts to get his way?

Her throbbing ear seemed to be emitting a wave of heat throughout her body. He was ignoring her, but his erection hadn’t subsided. She suspected it wouldn’t take much to get him to do something about it, especially since he mentioned that fucking mile high club again. She had a streak of exhibitionism, but not around people she knew. And Mo and Johan were right in front of the bathroom. Why the hell was she even thinking about it? She shifted restlessly and stilled when Roth lowered his phone to look at her. She kept her head bowed and blew out a breath when he shifted his attention back to his phone.

Something brushed against her knee. Half-tucked under Roth’s chin as she was, she had to duck her head to see Sarai pass in the aisle with a smile a mile wide. Her boot began to bounce as she inwardly fumed. Sarai didn’t hear him confess that he deliberately set out to destroy her family. What would it take to shatter Sarai’s illusions of him as a white knight? Three years as his personal assistant should have cured her of any hero worship. It hadn’t, which meant either Roth treated her better than anyone else (unlikely) or Sarai had created a fantasy around his character from her books. The fact that Sarai knew so much about her boss, including his sexual preferences and by default, hers... She immediately blanked that thought. She wasn’t going there.

Belatedly, she realized the cabin was now filled with the aroma of coffee and breakfast. She gave the passing flight attendants a fake smile as they passed with trays. It was clear that they, too, were charmed by their lovey-dovey PDA. Roth was a little too good at this acting business.

Her eyes flicked to his phone, but she couldn’t read anything on it from this angle. She watched his thumb glide over the screen as he ingested information with startling speed. She forgot how quickly he could read. Roth was like her father in so many ways. Driven, implacable, never satisfied. But she had never heard a story about her father going out of his way to help someone out of a bad situation as Roth had for Sarai. Maximus donated a respectable amount to charities, just enough to be recognized because he had to stand out in every arena. But he donated out of a sense of duty, not compassion. On the other hand, her father had never physically assaulted anyone and didn’t have any dark secrets worth blackmailing him over, that she knew of.

Roth pocketed his phone as the jet began its descent and closed his eyes. She saw the flight attendants eyeing them, clearly torn on whether to tell Roth she had to buckle up or not. She silently willed them to save her, and mumbled under her breath when they chickened out. Roth’s arms came around her during their landing, steadying her, before encircling her loosely as the jet taxied and then stopped. When the door opened, she prepared to stand, but his grip tightened a second before customs officials boarded. As they asked questions and inspected the jet and their belongings, she glanced at Roth, who was watching the proceedings intently. Her gut clenched. Surreptitiously, she leaned into him. Immediately, his arm curved around her back to support her.

“Do you have anything?” she murmured.

“What?”

She lowered her voice to a faint whisper. “Something illegal.”

He stared at her for a moment before he looked over her shoulder at Sarai who answered the agent's questions.

“You have nothing to worry about,” he said finally.

“You don’t do anything illegal?”

His eyes came back to hers as he said, “I have an important meeting in forty minutes. I hope there’s no traffic.”

“Roth!”

“The meeting shouldn’t take longer than three hours,” he said as he brushed his hand over her breasts.

She smacked him. “Stop trying to distract me!”

He squeezed her waist. “Settle down.”

“You fucking settle down.”

His eyes flicked over her shoulder. “They’re gone.”

She gave him a seething glare as she finally escaped. As he headed to the front of the jet, she busied herself with her bags. His refusal to answer was confirmation enough. Maybe the blackmail was a dirty associate or shady business deal gone bad.

“Mo and Johan will take care of you.”

The sound of his voice directly behind her made her momentarily freeze before she nodded. She zipped up her bag and kept her back to him.

“If you need anything, it can be delivered.”

She nodded again and fussed with the straps, willing him to walk away. What the hell was he waiting for? “You’re going to be late for your meeting.”

He smacked her ass hard enough to make her stagger into her bags. Enraged, ass stinging, she whirled with her hand raised to give him the mother of all bitch slaps. He gripped her wrist and yanked her against him, gripping her face and holding her still as he kissed her hard, tongue invading, sparking heat she didn’t want to acknowledge.

When he broke the kiss, he growled, “I’ll see you tonight,” before he strode away.

As she stood there, bewildered and aroused, Sarai mimed fainting before she hurried after her boss, who strode off the jet and into the rain.

“Jerk off,” she muttered.

Johan grabbed her bags while Mo beckoned. He handed her an umbrella before she stepped onto the wet staircase. The downpour was so strong, she had to hold on with both hands as she hurried to the waiting car. As they pulled away from the airstrip, she leaned toward the warm air blasting from the vents. It was impossible to tell what time it was from the dark sky, but her phone said it was three in the afternoon.

Despite being woken at such an ungodly hour and taken out of the country with little warning, she couldn’t help feeling a little relieved to be thousands of miles from New York. After those wedding photos went public, it would be impossible to go anywhere without being harassed by paparazzi. Here, no one cared who she was. She could glide under the radar and regroup without people watching her every move.

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