Page 30 of At First Flight
“Okay,” I reply, shuffling behind him as he heads toward the kitchen. I don’t check to see if Ashvi follows. “What are you making? I didn’t know you could bake.”
Dean glances over his shoulder at me, and I feel my core clench.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. But I thought some brownies would be a nice treat in our new home.”
Our home.I hate how much I enjoy the way it sounds.
The kids are busy at the kitchen table coloring in some books Dean must have brought down for them. Ashvi and I sit with them until Dean returns fifteen minutes later.
“All you had were four boxes?” he asks as he takes some chicken breasts out of the fridge.
“Like I said, I didn’t have much. If you don’t mind, Ashvi and I will start putting things away and then I can prep dinner.”
“I can handle dinner. You and your friend relax. There is some wine in the pantry you can help yourself to. Your mom said it was a good one.”
My still speechless friend follows me dutifully as I grab the bottle and two glasses, taking in our fill of the first floor layout with a quick glance down the dock. Ashvi’s on her phone the entire time while I marvel at the surroundings. Thankfully she follows as I make my way up to the second floor. I head to the bedroom next to the kids’, assuming Dean will want me sleeping close to them, and luckily I’m right when I find my boxes on the floor in front of the fourposter bed.
The door swings open with a soft click, and I step inside, stunned into stillness, thankful my boxes are already placed inside, otherwise I’d have dropped them.
This isn’t a guest room.
It’s a sanctuary.
The first thing I notice is the light. Golden beams filter through gauzy white curtains that billow just slightly from the open window, filling the space with a warmth that feels almost unreal. The walls are painted the softest shade of sage, fresh and calming, like something pulled straight from a high-end spa catalog. It’s subtle, elegant, the kind of color that instantly settles the chaos in my chest.
A king-sized bed sits against the far wall, dressed in layers of plush white linens and an oversized tufted headboard upholstered in cream velvet. At the foot, there’s a soft bench, the same neutral hue, topped with a folded knit throw in pale blush. The rug beneath my feet is thick and buttery, all texture and luxury, warming the dark wood floors with every step I take.
There’s a full seating area tucked beside a built-in bookshelf, with two pale gray armchairs and a round marble-top coffee table between them. One corner boasts a writing desk, antique, by the look of it, with brass handles and a perfectly arranged tray of stationery and fountain pens I can’t imagine ever using but love the thoughtfulness of.
And then there’s the bathroom.
The door is slightly ajar, and I push it open like I’m afraid I’ll break something. Inside, it’s all cream tile and brushed gold fixtures, with a rainfall shower that could fit three people and a freestanding tub beneath a window that overlooks the backyard. A double vanity stretches along one wall, topped with granite and lit by sconces that glow like candlelight.
It smells faintly like eucalyptus and new beginnings.
There’s a walk-in closet too, empty save for a few padded hangers and a full-length mirror that makes me do a double take because, for once, I don’t hate what I see.
It’s clear Dean spared no expense. And not just in the way that money speaks, but in the way thoughtfulness whispers. Every inch of this room feels like an invitation. A promise. A quiet reassurance that maybe… I’m not just a guest here.
“Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh,” Ashvi squeals the moment she steps inside the room and closes the door behind herself. Like a hawk, she latches onto my arm with her talons and spins me to face in her direction. “Lila, do you know who that is? Do you have any idea who you’re working for?”
Shrugging off her grip, I start pulling my clothes free from the boxes where I’d stuffed them earlier and laying them on the bed.
“No, but he’s just a guy who got handed a tough situation, Vi.” I explain as I break down one of the boxes and toss it onto the floor.
Suddenly, a phone is shoved at me and I can’t look away from the screen with Dean’s attractive face staring back at me.
I stare at my phone, Ashvi's words ringing in my ears.World’s Sexiest Billionaire Heir.My brow furrows as I swipe through the article. "What kind of article is this?" I ask, skepticism lacing my voice. I can't help it, my mind is racing, trying to make sense of this. The words don’t feel like they belong in the same universe as the man I know.
Ashvi’s reply is immediate, the excitement practically leaping out of her screen. “Lila, your man is like the hottest guy in the world, literally, and he’s heir to one of the oldest yacht and boating companies. The man makes a billion dollars every time he blinks.”
The ground shifts beneath my feet.A billion dollars every time he blinks?What does that even mean? I let out anervous laugh, dismissing it, though there's a hint of disbelief in my tone. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
But deep down, as I stare at the glowing screen, a strange mix of disbelief and curiosity stirs in my chest. I try to ignore it, to tell myself that Ashvi’s exaggerating, that she’s just seeing him through the same rose-colored glasses I’d seen him through when I first met him. The chemistry, the laughter, the light-heartedness we shared—they don’t make sense in the context of billion-dollar businesses and glossy magazine headlines.
No, this isn’t him,I think,he’s not like that. He's… well, he’s real. He’s grounded.
Still, my mind can't help but wonder. Is this the life he was leading before? The one I don't know about? The life that feels so far out of reach?
