Page 74 of Promise of Destruction
I’d rather have flown commercial, but the flight times didn’t align with our needs, so I begrudgingly let them send the jet.
She’s quiet until we climb out of the car and stare at it up close. Soren looks like she’s squaring up against it.
“It’s so… small.”
“Ouch.” I wince. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to remark on the size of a man’s jet?”
When understanding takes root, her eyes go wide. “Aprivatejet? As in… just us?”
“Just us.” I confirm, trailing my fingers up the back of her thigh. I stop just short of reaching her ass, but she doesn’t let go of the breath she’s holding. “You and me, forty thousand miles above the ground in a tin can with nowhere to go.”
She doesn’t manage to suppress her shudder but softens when she sees the pilot and stewardess waiting at the foot of the steps.
“Mr. Evers,” The pilot smiles, sticking a hand out for me to shake. “Welcome aboard, sir.”
“Declan.” Soren says, and it takes me a moment to realize she’s correcting him. Simon’s eyes slip to her and he releases my hand to shake hers instead. “And I’m Soren.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss.” He tips his hat, and I notice how his touch lingers, his fingers slow to pull back from her skin. I stare at him until he notices and drops her hand like a hot coal, wiping it on the leg of his pants.
“I’m Elize.” The stewardess smiles brightly. “Be sure to let me know if you need anything.”
Something in the way her voice lilts when she says ‘anything’ makes me wonder just how literally she means that. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was an orgy plane and the staff were just swingers used to people wanting to join the mile high club.
I gesture for her to grab Soren’s bag, which is arguably heavier than mine. Mine just carries more precious cargo; I won’t be letting it out of my sight.
Simon steps aside to let us climb the steps, and I wish for just a moment that I hadn’t suggested Soren change out of the dress. I’d have a pretty great view of her ass climbing the stairs if I hadn’t.
She sucks in a breath when we reach the top, stopping directly in the entrance.
“Soren,” I prompt.
When she turns to face me, her eyes are wide with fear so profound it actually makes me feel a pang of sorrow for her. “What’s wrong?”
“I…” Her lip quivers a little, tears lining her lashes despite her effort to blink them away. “I’m claustrophobic.”
“Oh?”
I pat her shoulder and pass her so I can set my bag down near the couch. Honestly, as far as planes and jets go, this is prettyspacious. My benefactors spared no expense in their choice of finishings—every surface gleams under the light from the bulbs recessed in the ceiling. I turn back to see that Soren hasn’t moved—she looks ready to bolt back the other direction, except Elize is standing in her way.
I guess she reallyisclaustrophobic… either that, or afraid of flying.
“Come along,” I tell her, gesturing to the empty chair next to me.
When Soren doesn’t immediately obey me, I sigh. It would be so much easier to just drug her and throw her on the bed for the duration of the flight but given how she looked this morning after suffering last night’s substance abuse, I don’t think that’s our best option.
“Do I have to pick you up and carry you in here? Because if I do, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from throwing you over my lap.”
A wobble of her chin is the only sign of defiance I get, and then she puts one foot in front of the other, catching and releasing the same shaky breath the whole way down the aisle. When she finally sits stiffly on the edge of her chair, I wonder if she’s planning to stay there the whole time. I don’t know if she’s bothered to try and work the time span out in her head, but just in case, I lean across the aisle toward her conspiratorially.
“Relax, Soren. It’s only a nine hour flight. We’ll be there before you know it.”
“Onlynine hours?” She looks a bit green.
I hope she doesn’t get motion sickness as well or the breakfast I coerced her into eating may come back up. The emphasis on ‘only’ tells me that what I consider to be an easy flight, she does not.
“Yes.” I nod. “Nine hours. If you wish to try and sleep through it, there’s a bed at the back of the jet.” I don’t bother tellingher I personally wouldn’t lie in it if my life depended upon it. Sure, they’d bleach the linens and clean everything up, but that doesn’t change what I’m sure happens in there.
“No,” she sounds as repulsed by that idea as me. “No, I’ll just…” Soren looks around her, noting the cashmere and leather, a mix of elegant and stately.
