Page 9 of Beautiful Desire

Not bothering to answer, I nod back at him and head in the direction of my jet. Climbing the stairs, I’m met with the familiar scent of leather and citrus. The cabin is made up of three seating areas, all donned in light cream leather chairs and couches. I amble my way over to the set of four chairs separated by a dark wooden lacquer table and plop myself down in the first seat.

No sooner has my ass touched the seat than my flight attendant, Jennifer, makes her way over to me.

“Good evening, Mr. Lombardi. Can I get you anything to eat or drink before we take off?”

“Black coffee and whatever food we have on board that is ready.”

“We have a Caesar salad and steak with steamed vegetables. Are either of those okay?”

“Steak is fine, thank you.”

“Of course, sir. Be right back.”

Just as she’s about to turn and head back toward the cockpit, she gives me a sultry smile. Although Jennifer is a beautiful tall bombshell with legs for days that would have any man tripping over their feet, she’s not the blonde who’s been on my mind all day.

Forget about her. She left you. She’s not worth your time, D.

Although I’ve been telling myself that all day, it’s not working. I’m getting annoyed at the fact this girl left such an impression on me already. It’s been a long-ass day and all I want to do is go home and sleep inmybed, but for whatever reason, the plane still isn’t moving.

Having not eaten since this afternoon due to the back-to-back meetings I was in, I scarf the food down in record time, just as the pilot comes on the intercom to let me know we’re about to take off.

I spend the next two and a half hours answering emails and looking over proposals, talking to my Hong Kong and London teams about the mergers for the companies I’m buying.

Craig, my pilot, comes over the intercom as soon as I hit send on my email.

“Good evening, Mr. Lombardi. We are just about to land at Boston International Airport. The time is currently 7:53 p.m., and the temperature is a balmy seventy-five degrees. Hope you’ve enjoyed your flight.”

Powering off my laptop, I stow it away in my leather briefcase and fasten my seatbelt for landing. Within ten minutes, the plane has landed, and I’m one step closer to sleeping in my own bed.

Oh, the beauty of flying private. I don’t have to fight my way through the herd of people all trying to get off at the same time or grabbing their luggage from the overhead compartment. It’s just me, and I can leave.

“Have a good evening, Mr. Lombardi.”

“Thank you, Jennifer. You too.”

When I step off the plane, my black Lexus is waiting for me, along with my driver, Bill.

“Good evening, sir. Did you have a good flight?”

“Evening, Bill. I did, thank you.”

He opens the door for me, and I climb in the back and will my eyes not to close just yet. But between the lack of sleep from last night, all-day meetings, and the flight, that’s getting harder to do.

“Where to, sir?”

“Home, please.”

Bill starts up the car and heads off in the direction of my penthouse.

The city of Boston seems like a blur as we drive down I-95, and before I know it, we’re pulling into the underground parking to my building. Exiting the car, I tell Bill goodnight and head for my private elevator.

Inserting my key into the panel on the wall, I punch in my code and wait for the doors to open. Once inside, I press the button for my floor. Resting my head on the reflective wall behind me, I close my eyes for the short ascent and will my brain to relax for the time being.

The dinging sound informs me I’m here. Reluctantly, I peel myself off the wall and walk into my penthouse, heading straight for the bar.

Pulling out a bottle of my favorite scotch, Macallan, I pour myself a drink and lie back on my large semi-circle couch. As I stare out across the Boston skyline, my mind wanders back to last night and my time withL. The sound of her laugher, the feeling of her skin, and the vision of how she looked writhing beneath me. My cock twitches at the memories.

The cuff bracelet that’s been sitting in my jacket pocket all day feels heavy as I take it out and begin to play with it. Part of me is kicking myself for not getting her full name. I could always ask Pete, but I doubt he’d be very happy about me going after his PA.

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