Page 29 of A Billionaire's Secret

I usually hated surprises. My life was pretty simple and straightforward—wake up early, follow a schedule, train, win, rinse, and repeat. I would go out with friends occasionally, but those had become fewer and fewer as I became more involved with the sport.

The last time someone had surprised me was not a pleasant one. I’d been seeing a guy with whom I was matched by one of my jockey friends. Eric was a handsome thirty-six-year-old entrepreneur who occasionally liked to bet on horse races. And that was the extent of his interest in the sport. So, naturally, once my training became more intense and all I would talk about were my horses, he decided he wasn’t interested. He showed up at my doorstep unannounced one night, wanting to take me to dinner. I thought it was a nice surprise, but when we arrived, he sat me down and broke up. He really didn’t have to do all that. I wish he would have just texted or called.

I tapped my foot nervously and bit my lip while waiting in the kitchen for Christian’s car. My parents had left for the day to run some errands, my sister was on her way to work, and the silence was deafening. My heart beat louder as the minutes and seconds ticked closer to one o’clock.

Ding-dong.

My doorbell rang, and I inhaled one last breath before opening the door to greet Christian. I swung the door open, but my smile flatlined at the sight of Daniel instead.

“May I take your bags, Ms. Victoria?” He extended his hand. “And if you can, please grab your passport. Mr. Forbes is waiting for you at the airport.”

I hesitantly rolled my suitcase toward Daniel, his words still sinking in. I should have known that Christian’s surprise trip wouldn’t be somewhere nearby. Of course, he’d want to fly. I ran up the stairs to my room, fished out my passport, which I had recently used for a competition in France, hurried back down, and dove into the car.

***

I gripped my purse tight as Daniel walked me to a secluded hangar at the Muhammad Ali International Airport. Plane engines roared like wild beasts as they circled in the near distance. I looked at Daniel, searching his eyes for confirmation that we were at the right place. He nodded and opened the door for me.

“Hey, gorgeous!” Christian, who was calmly reading a newspaper, bounced on his feet. “I thought maybe you got cold feet.”

“I did,” I smirked. “But Daniel was very persistent.”

Christian exuded class and style even with the most casual clothes. He wore tight-fitting blue jeans over white sneakers, matching his white t-shirt, and a pair of aviator sunglasses. His toned arms and chest bulged through the shirt, reminding me of statues in art museums. His hair—naturally wavy and wild with just a few glistening white strands in the mix of thick dark locks.

“Thank you, Daniel,” Christian patted him on the shoulder. “Go enjoy a few days with your family now.”

“Have a great trip,” Daniel nodded politely and walked away, leaving me stranded in Christian’s intoxicating presence.

A middle-aged lady in a uniform motioned us toward her desk and required our passports. I handed her mine and caught Christian peeking over my shoulder.

“Cute picture,” he laughed while I snatched his from his hands and flipped it open.

“Why so serious, Mr. CEO?” I burst into laughter at the sight of his stiff passport photo.

“Gimme that,” he tried to grab it back from me. “I’ll show you why.”

The lady looked at us, annoyed, her hand still in the air in anticipation of Christian’s passport. I cleared my throat and straightened up until she was done with us. He held my hand, we walked out into the hot summer air and approached a majestic private jet, proudly wearing a large blue logo that read Forbes Bank.

“Welcome aboard the Blue Swan,” Christian announced as I reached the last step of the staircase.

“Do you name all your belongings,” I joked, trying to conceal my child-like astonishment at the luxurious view before me.

“Diana’s idea. She insisted we named all our cars and planes.” he elaborated. “This one just stuck the longest.”

Scents of plush leather and freshly washed carpets seeped into my skin while the crème-colored seats waited for us, calm and inviting. I chose one of them and slid near the window while Christian exchanged a few words with the young, doll-faced flight attendant and sat beside me.

“Christian, where are we going?” I stared at him intensely, hoping to solve the mystery.

“Wouldn’t you want to know,” he smiled and swiped the tip of my nose. “You’ll hear it from the captain in just a few moments. Not one for surprises, huh?”

“Honestly, not a big fan,” I confessed. “But so far, I like this one.”

“Me neither. Don’t ever pull anything like that on me, that’s all I know,” we both laughed, and I held my breath in anticipation of the captain’s announcement.

I stared out the window, blinded by the bright sun, adrenaline, and excitement rushing through my body. Sitting next to Christian on his private jet seemed as surreal as those sun rays that somehow gave life to our planet and fueled our existence.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Stevens speaking,” a voice over the intercom startled me from my existential thoughts. “Welcome aboard flight FB 375D9 from Muhammad Ali International Airport to London Heathrow. Our estimated flight duration will be about eight hours, thirty minutes, with anticipated landing at Heathrow around seven o’clock in the morning, local British time.”

I stared at Christian with shock and disbelief. “London?”

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