Page 71 of Passenger Princess

I let out a deep soul sigh. This was fun when it was an idea in a hotel room while getting ready, when a small, daydreamy part of me thought he'd see me and make grand confessions of how into me he was, how he wanted to throw away all threads of professionalism and try this thing that's been burning between us since the beginning.

But now that it just seems to be more of the same—the same confusion, the same mixed signals—I'm tired. I'm tired and confused and so scared that I'm going to get hurt.

“Just trying to understand what’s going on here.”

“What?” Finally, his head tips down to look at me.

“What’s going on here, Jaime? Me and you. One minute you’re doing everything in your power to avoid me, then you’re slow dancing with me and telling me you're obsessed with me. One minute you’re kissing me like it’s what you need to function, and the next you’re telling me I’m just a job to you. I don’t mind the flirting because I do it right back, and I don’t mind you wanting to keep lines clear because I can respect that. But these mixed signals are getting old.”

“Ava, I?—”

My body stops swaying, looking up at him, and when his face goes just a bit soft, I know. I know he sees it there, because Ilethim see it. The hurt and the confusion hiding under the mask of confidence I always wear.

I shake my head at him.

“I deserve a man who, when he looks at me, when he says he wants me, he means it. He knows it to his bones. I deserve a man who is decisive. I don’t deserve this whiplash you’ve been giving me. I don’t deserve someone who kisses me like he's going to change my life, then ignores me and treats me like any old job. I deserve the world, and if you're not willing to give it to me, I need to know now."

He doesn’t answer, but I keep staring at him. His jaw is tight, and he's too fucking handsome for his own good. Right in front of me and somehow miles away,

“So what's it going to be, big guy?”

I wait for an answer.

I wait, and I wait as people sway around us, and with each moment, with each note of the romantic song, my gut falls and falls.

It’s in that moment I realize I fucked up.

I fucked up so huge because somehow, someway, I’ve started to fall for this big stupid idiot.

And I’m just a job to him.

As abrupt as the realization, the song ends, and Jaime steps back like that was the only reason he was holding me in the first place.

“I have to use the bathroom,” he says.

“I’m sure you do,” I whisper back, turning toward the table where Beckett is still sitting, now with Wes, a glass in hand, one leg kicked out as he watches us intently, a small smile playing on his lips, but I know there’s none on mine, not at all.

Jaime leads me back to the table we’re seated at with a firm hand at my back, but not in any way other than the touch of a bodyguard on his subject.

“Can you keep an eye on her?” Jaime asks his friend, and without even pausing, he walks off toward the exit.

I watch him even though I don’t want to, and I don't miss how he doesn't even look back at me.

“So, has he admitted he’s head over heels in love with you yet?” a voice says, snapping my attention to Wes, watching me with a smile.

“What?”

His smile grows with my attention on him. He sits up and turns toward me, puts his forearms on the table, and shakes his head.

“So that’s gonna be a no. He’s too thick-skulled for his own goddamn good.”

THIRTY-FOUR

JAIME

I fucked up by waiting too long to answer.

I also lied when I said I needed to go to the bathroom, which is why I’m pacing outside the entrance to the ballroom, taking deep breaths to try to calm myself down.

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