Page 6 of Butterfly

As the trailer goes on, I meet Jack’s stare over Sienna’s scar. No reproach flashes in his gaze. A silent exchange happens between us for the briefest of seconds, an understanding.

“Oh, Emily Lawrence is playing Volia. Perfect.” She nods her approval. “She’s an amazing actress. And you look great in that costume.” Her voice bubbles with happiness, and for some reason, pride swells in my chest.

“Thank you.” Her compliment sounds so genuine that my heart makes a stupid flip.

When the trailer ends, her cheeks are a delicious shade of pink.

Jack nods, folding his arms over his chest. “Told you. So?”

Sienna toys with the ticket and traps her damaged bottom lip between her teeth.

“Don’t be your usual stubborn self,” he says in a kinder tone than his words might sound. “For once, accept some help and enjoy your flight. Everyone needs help. Including you.”

She swallows hard. “All right. Thank you.”

“Good. See you on board.” His mouth stretches in a bright smile as he turns to me. “Safe trip. Amazing James Bond, Mr Knightley.”

I bow my head. “Thank you.”

But I’m not thanking him for the compliment.

Two

Sienna

ALEX KNIGHTLEY. I’m sitting next to Alex Knightley.

If I weren’t so tired and still shivering from last night’s apocalyptic storm, the explosion, and the fear of seeing my friends dying in front of me, I’d giggle. He’s taller than he looks in his films. Broader. More handsome. More intense. His smile more devastating. His grey eyes shine with a metallic glow, and his raven hair curls at the base of his strong neck. Gosh, all those muscles. His bulging biceps are about to rip the sleeves of his T-shirt. On top of that, he smells good. Clean soap. Just that. No fancy male cologne. And I’ll breathe that scent for the next twelve hours. On a first-class seat. Unreal. Was he staring at me earlier? I think so. My face is a mask of cuts and bruises, all swollen and doughy. It looks like a cat had fun clawing at my right cheek, shoulder, and arm. I’m not surprised if people stare at me. But I don’t like it.

When the flight attendant opens the gate to the passageway and starts calling the passengers with seats in the first rows, I take a deep breath and grab my bag. Only to grimace at the shot of pain travelling up my arm. “Damn.”

“Let me.” That pair of silver-grey eyes is going to be the death of me. If he keeps staring at me like that, I’m going to have the wildest fit of giggles of my life. “I’ll take the bag.” He slings it over his shoulder where his own bag is strapped.

“Thanks.” We’ve exchanged only a few words, but ‘thank you’ are the most repeated ones by me. Great. I stagger towards the gate from which a carpeted corridor stretches towards the aircraft.

“May I?” His deep voice—that I’ve always heard through some sort of device—reverberates in my stomach.

I have no idea what he’s asking permission for though, but I nod nevertheless, too stunned to talk. Somewhere in my mind, I’m enjoying this moment more than I let myself acknowledge it. Wow, that sounds mental.

My breath catches when he slips an arm around my waist and helps me walk. Oh, my. His body warmth reaches my skin through the thin material of my blouse and eases the knot of anxiety in my belly while starting a flutter in my chest. And the corridor doesn’t seem like it’s going to end any time soon, especially not at my pace.

“Why didn’t you want to accept the ticket?” he asks.

“How much is it?”

He rubs his forehead. “Vance or one of his assistants pays for my travels. Fifteen thousand? Give or take. But that seat was mine, and I won’t ask for a refund, so your friends will have their money back.”

My mouth drops open. “My goodness.” Fifteen thousand pounds. Ridiculous. I could pay a good chunk of my debts with that sum.

“You can’t walk properly.”

“I’ve seen worse,” I say so low I’m not sure he catches the words.

“What do you mean by that?”

I shrug. Curse my silly mouth. He heard me. “It all happened because of a donkey.” I change the subject.

“What?” he asks, dipping his head. His fingers on my waist are careful and gentle, but they also tell me they’ll catch me if I trip. Or if my knees buckle.

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