Page 79 of The VIP Package

“You must be Kora.” It’s a struggle to hide my disappointment. “Call me Camille, please.”

“Of course.” Her expression is a perfect mask of professionalism. “I’ve heard lovely things about you.”

“That’s good.” From Ash or from Sybil? She doesn’t say, and I decide not to ask. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

“You’re welcome.” She looks at her watch. “They’ll be announcing an end to the pilots’ strike in about two hours.”

“Oh.” I blink as I try to regain my bearings. “So it’s over. I—um, should I try to get rescheduled on a commercial airline?”

“That won’t be necessary. Mr. Holyfield insisted you be flown on the private jet.”

“Oh.” I guess he really wants me gone. Tears spring to my eyes, but I blink them back hard as Kora holds out a hand.

“I can take your suitcases.”

“This is it.” I point to the gym bag at my feet, then turn to head back in the room. “Just let me grab my shoes and?—”

“Oh, honey!”

I spin to see Sybil push past her, barreling into the room to pull me into a sweet-scented hug. “Oh, sweetie. I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks.” Tears fill my eyes as I sniffle into her hair. “Um, what did Ash tell you?”

“Not a damn thing.” She glances at Kora. “And my wife is a master of discretion, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out which ‘VIP guest’ she’d be driving to the airstrip at this hour. You’re the only one here.”

“Sybil.” There’s a warning in Kora’s tone, but also affection. “Let’s not make this harder on her.”

“I’m okay.” I’m sure they can see by my tear-streaked face that I’m not. “I’llbeokay. It’s been an emotional morning.”

Kora’s eyes soften as her wife helps me locate my shoes. Sybil loops an arm around me, lending me strength as she guides me back to the door. As she scoops up my bag, she leads me outside to a rose-gold golf cart with a crisp white canopy.

“Water?” Kora reaches inside and pulls out two bottles. “Or kombucha?”

I’m not thirsty, but given how much I’ve been crying, I should probably drink something. “Thank you.” I take the kombucha as Sybil slings my bag into a luggage compartment.

“I promise not to dwell on this,” she says as she climbs in the back beside me. “But I really thought you’d cracked the code to The Fortress.”

“Sybil.” Kora’s warning sounds sterner this time as she steers the cart down the leafy, vine-twisted path. “Give the poor woman some space.”

“It’s okay.” I lean against Sybil, enjoying the comfort of her arm pressed to mine. “Ash has some things to work through and I—” What do I need, exactly? “I need someone who knows with one hundred percent certainty that he wants to be with me. I can’t fault him for not feeling it.”

“Mr. Holyfield is a complicated man.” Kora tightens her grip on the wheel, her gaze fixed straight ahead. “A good man, but a complicated one.”

Sybil makes a face. “That’s my wife’s kindhearted way of saying he’s an ass-hat.”

I laugh in spite of myself. As Kora turns the corner, I catch what looks like a smile and an eye roll.

“The jet’s on the way, but it’ll need to refuel.” Kora steers the cart onto a gravel-lined path at the edge of the jungle. “I provided your city of origin to the pilot. I assume you’re hoping to return to Portland?”

“I suppose.” That’s not what I’m hoping at all, but I don’t have much choice.

“The pilot has those details.” She steers us around a large palm tree. “She’ll map out the appropriate course.”

“Thank you.” I don’t know a thing about private jets. I assume we’ll need to refuel between here and Portland, but I don’t have a clue how that works. “I’m just grateful for the ride.”

“It’s the least we can do,” Kora says mildly.

Sybil squeezes my hand and mutters under her breath. “After this chickenshit move, Ash owes you more than a ride home. Maybe hit him up for a pony?”

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