Page 47 of Devil's Tulip

He sets the laptop down, opening it. “I hope you don’t mind? I have some work to catch up on before we land.”

“It’s fine.” I glance out the window at the now dark night. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.” His fingers fly across the keyboard, already lost in whatever he’s doing.

“That’s not an answer, Michael.Where the hell are we going?”

That gets me his full attention. His fingers pause, and he looks up. “Are you worried? Don’t be. You’re safe with me.”

Iwasn’tworried—even though, logically, Ishouldbe. I mean, what do I really I know about this man other than his full name?How good he is at kissing? And… other things?I shake the thought off my head. “I just need to know.”

He exhales, finally giving in. “My home. We’re going to my primary residence. But first, we’re making a stop at my friend’s place. I need to set some records straight.”

His primary residence? That tells me nothing. But I know he’s not going to say more than that, so I let it go. For now. I’ll figure it out when we land anyway.

Michael dives back into his work, typing furiously, completely absorbed. Meanwhile, I entertain myself by exploring the plane.

There’s the cockpit, where the pilot is doing… pilot things. The flight attendant’s station, where the woman from earlierbarely spares me a glance. And a small restroom tucked to the side.

Further back, I come across a cabin with seats that look more like a regular plane—boring. But at the very end, double doors lead to an ensuite bedroom with a walk-in closet.

Of course he has a bedroom on his jet.

I snoop through the drawers beside the bed and find a thick tech book. Great. Just what I didn’t want. But it’s better than staring at the wall, so I take it and head back to my seat.

Michael glances at me curiously, raising a brow when he notices the book in my hand, but I ignore him. Opening the book, I attempt to read through the boring, straight to the point text.

Yada-yada-yada, Java, Yada-yada-yada, API. Some weird gibberish that looks like a spell from a fantasy novel—return B; true or false.

I yawn, flipping to the next page. How the hell does Michael even read these things? And I know he has at least once because when I skip to the third chapter, I see a few lines are highlighted.

I force myself to slog through that chapter—just to prove I can—but halfway through, my brain is fried, my head aches, and I’mthisclose to throwing the book across the cabin. Instead, I drop it beside me and lean back in my seat, pretending to sleep.

Except… I don’t actually sleep.

I watch him work.

The way his brows furrow in focus. The slight press of his lips. The sharp, confident movements of his fingers on the keys.

He’s so gorgeous like this. And if I didn’t know him, I might even find him a little intimidating. But I enjoy watching him.This is way more entertaining than whatever was in that Java book.

I lose track of time as we travel, staring the entire way without getting bored at all.

When the plane begins its descent, I sit up with an exaggerated yawn, stretching dramatically as I fully open my eyes. “Are we about to land?”

He chuckles, fingers finally going still on his keyboard to look at me. “You’re a terrible actress. Did you enjoy the show?” He waves at his face, calling me out completely.

Busted.

I try to pull off a careless shrug like I’ve seen him do, but my stupid, burning cheeks betray me. “Fine,” I admit. “I was just curious. What were you working on that had you so absorbed for so long?”

“You must have noticed that I love tech.” He nods towards the book I abandoned.

“Oh. Yes. I definitely noticed,” I say dryly. Between that book, his fully-automated Seattle house, his library, the ridiculously overcomplicated security systems? Yeah. It’s hardnotto notice. “Do you work in tech or something?”

“Or something.” He smiles faintly, snapping his laptop shut.

“So, you were doing tech-y things on your computer?” I question when he annoyingly doesn’t say anything again. Can’t he see I’m curious?

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