Page 29 of Ardent Desires

I stare at my half-packed suitcase, my mind racing. Jenna’s right—I need to talk to Alexander. Before things get any more complicated. I’ve been working my ass off at Blackwood Enterprises, trying to prove that I belong there, and every time I remember that I’m getting involved with theCEO, my stomach twists. It’s not like I planned this. But God, those blue eyes, the way he looks at me... Andfuck, the way he kissed me yesterday in his office, the way his hands felt on my skin.

I shake my head, trying to focus as I finish packing. He’s gorgeous, smart, and he listens to me—actuallylistens. But I need to know where this is going before I get in any deeper.

Three hours later, around seven, I’m sitting on my couch with a takeout container in my lap, trying to force down some food when my phone buzzes. It’s Alexander.

“Hey,” I answer, setting the container aside.

“You all packed?” His voice is smooth, deep, and just hearing it sends a little thrill through me.

“Yeah,” I say, glancing at my suitcase by the door. “I’m ready.”

“Good. I’ll be there in about an hour.”

“Okay,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady as excitement ripples through me.

I hang up, clean up my takeout, and then start locking up my tiny apartment. The butterflies in my stomach won’t stop as I zip up my bag and take one last look around. This whole thing feels surreal. I’ve dreamed of traveling, but I’ve never thought I’d get to stay at aLes Mains de Parishotel. It’s a big deal. Camilla Rochefort’s chain of luxury hotels is renowned worldwide, and the idea of attending an opening for one of them feels like something out of a movie.

When Alexander arrives, he pulls up in his sleek Rolls Royce. It feels too fancy for my little street, but I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face when he steps out of the car. He’s in a tailored black suit, looking as devastatingly handsome as always, his hair perfectly styled, his blue eyes gleaming when he spots me.

“You ready?” he asks, walking over to load my suitcase into the trunk.

“Yeah.” I watch as he lifts the bag easily, his muscles flexing under his suit.

“Got your passport?” he asks casually, glancing back at me.

I blink, surprised. “Why would I need my passport?”

He steps closer, his smile turning playful as he lightly smacks my ass. “Just get the passport, Ellie.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I head back into my apartment to grab it. When I return, I hand it to him, and he tucks it into his jacket pocket with a wink. “Normally, they don’t ask me for it, but better to have it just in case.”

“Okay,” I say, my curiosity piqued.

We both slide into the car, the leather seats cool against my legs. I’m wearing a simple white blouse tucked into a high-waisted skirt, with nude heels. Casual but still classy. The drive is smooth, and the entire time, I’m trying to figure out where the hell we’re going.

“Alexander,” I ask after a while, staring out the window at the streets of New York, “where exactly are we going?”

“You ask way too many questions,” he teases, reaching over to take my hand in his. His touch sends a warmth through me that makes me want to melt into the seat.

I sigh but let it go. The anticipation is killing me, but I trust him enough to wait.

After what feels like forever, the car pulls up to a private hangar. I glance out the window and spot a sleek jet parked on the tarmac, the wordsBlackwoodpainted on the side in bold letters.

My jaw drops. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

He smirks, squeezing my hand. “Welcome to our ride for the weekend.”

“You didn’t mentionthiswhen you said ‘hotel opening.’” I shake my head, half-laughing as I take it all in.

He just grins. “I like to keep some surprises up my sleeve.”

I’m speechless as we step out of the car, and he grabs our bags from the trunk, leading me toward the jet. The closer we get, the more surreal this all feels. I’ve never been on a private plane before, and certainly not one with a name likeBlackwoodon theside. It’s a reminder of the world Alexander lives in—a world I’ve barely scratched the surface of.

But as he takes my hand again, leading me up the steps and into the jet, I realize I’m excited. Nervous, sure, but excited.

This weekend is going to be something else.

The inside of the plane is nothing like I’ve ever seen before. It’s sleek, modern, with plush leather seats that look more like luxurious armchairs, and polished wood accents that scream wealth. A spacious area with a small bar sits toward the back, and there’s even a private lounge area with a couch. This isn’t just a plane—it’s a flying luxury hotel.

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