Page 54 of Forbidden Grumpy Boss

“No, no, no, no.” I start backing away, shaking my head. Flying commercial is one thing, but trusting Silas—who is not a professional pilot, no matter how many certificates he has—with my life in an aluminum can is quite another.

“Come on, Leah,” Caleb says, laughing like this is the best joke he’s ever heard. “Dad’s been flying forever. You’ll be safe.”

“Listen to the kid, Leah.”

Caleb and Silas share a smile, and I realize that’s a rare sight. Despite my unease, it warms my heart. This is why I’m doing this. The fake engagement. For Caleb.

Silas steps closer, his hand resting on my shoulder, and I can’t help but feel that familiar tug in my chest. Damn him and his confidence. “You trust me, don’t you?”

It’s unfair when he looks at me like that. His eyes sexy, his voice low and reassuring.

I glance at the tiny plane again, my palms sweating despite the cold. But Silas . . . Silas exudes so much calmness, so much control. I trust him. Against my better judgment, I trust him.Fuck.

I let out a breath. “Alright, fine,” I mutter, giving in. “But if we crash, I’m haunting you forever.”

His smile widens. “Deal.”

Before I can think too hard, I find myself strapped into the co-pilot seat, my heart pounding as Silas goes through the pre-flight checks like he’s done this a thousand times before. Caleb is in the back, strapping himself into his seat.

“By the way,” I say, turning to Silas once I’m finally calm enough to speak, “where are we flying to?”

He glances over at me, smirking. “You like ice cream, don’t you?”

“Who doesn’t?”

“Well,” he says, his voice as nonchalant as ever, “I thought we’d pop over to Paris for some Berthillon.”

I blink, speechless for a second. “You’re flying us to Paris for ice cream?”

“You make it sound like that’s a crazy thing.” He laughs.

“It is!” I almost yell, and Caleb chuckles at my hysteria.

Paris. For ice cream. The man is ridiculous. But the idea of it, of us flying to Paris, feels oddly romantic.

The plane lifts off, and I feel my heart lurch in my chest. “This is such a bad idea!” I mutter. “Why can’t we grab ice cream in the city like normal people? Oh my God, I’m going to die for some shitty ice cream.”

“You’re not gonna die.” Silas chuckles.

“Sorry, Caleb.” I wave a hand behind my head.I shouldn’t have sworn.

“Just breathe, Leah,” he says, his voice smooth, like velvet over steel, as the plane glides. “You’re safe.”

And somehow, I do feel safe. He’s right there, piloting with such ease. Caleb’s laughter from the back seat helps, too, reminding me that this is meant to be fun.

“Just focus on the clouds.” He looks ahead. “Focus on the beautiful blue clouds and lose yourself in the moment, Leah. This is no different from driving a car.”

“I can pop out of a car anytime, Silas.” I roll my eyes. “Can I do that on a plane?”

“You do know the chances of a person dying in an accident are higher in a car than in a plane, right?’

“I really,reallydon’t care about statistics, Silas.”

Bantering with him temporarily makes me forget my fears, and by the time I notice what’s happening, I’m not really acutely aware of being thousands of feet in the air anymore.

The flight passed quicker than I expected. Paris emerges beneath us, a sprawling city with the Eiffel Tower spearing the sky like it owns the place. It’s beautiful.

Landing in Paris feels surreal, especially when Silas takes my hand as we walk through the private airfield to the car waiting for us. Caleb is animated, talking about everything he wants to see. But my mind keeps drifting to the fact that Silas planned all this.

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