Page 2 of Villainous Soul

Damn it.

The control panel to lower them was on a wall to the right of me. It was one flip of a switch. My hand hesitated above the toggle.

“Is there a problem?” Keir snapped from his seat. “We’re in a hurry.”

My heart leaped into my throat.

“There’s no problem, sir,” Simon said, pulling the main door closed and lowering the control handle, locking us in. He glared at me and mouthed for me to start making drinks.

I put my purse in the cupboard and returned to the kitchenette. My heart was racing as I quickly prepared Keir’s drink. A single malt neat. There was nothing I could do now. I grabbed a cocktail napkin before bringing it over to him and set the napkin and glass down on the marble table. The other man took a seat across from Keir and nodded at me. “I’ll have the same.”

I returned to the kitchen area, poured another drink, and listened to the men. The plane began to taxi down the runway. Keir was back on his phone. “Where the hell are you? We’re taking off.”

It was easy to surmise that he was talking to his fiancée, considering she wasn’t on the plane. “You know how much this weekend means to me,” he continued. “It only happens once a year. This is a chance of a lifetime for me.”

Silence filled the cabin. I handed the other gentleman his drink, careful not to make eye contact.

Keir hissed into his phone. “So that’s it. I thought we had an arrangement.”

The plane began to pick up speed. I returned to the kitchen area and took a seat, fastening the seatbelt. Simon sat down next to me. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

“No, but it doesn’t matter as long as Mr. Wilson is happy.”

“Of course, it matters. I would like to know where we’re going.” My stomach tightened with apprehension as the gentle purr of the engines turned into a roar, and the plane lifted off the ground. There was no turning back now. Maybe I was overreacting, but my instincts said otherwise, and they were rarely wrong.

“Just serve the client, and it will be fine. I promise you,” Simon said. “I’m going to check on the pilots.”

When the plane leveled off, I got up and sliced cucumber on a plate, adding a drizzle of olive oil and a dash of seasoning. Keir had ended the phone call and was yelling at the other man. “I can’t believe she fucking ditched me. What the bloody hell am I supposed to do now? I can’t show up alone.”

I walked over as quietly as possible and set the cucumber on the table, backing up. Keir’s eyes bore into me. “Where’s Claire” he snapped.

Shit.

I started to turn, hoping he was asking the other gentleman. “I asked you a question. Where’s Claire?” he repeated.

I looked back, catching a dark and menacing eye. “She has the flu. She asked me to cover her.”

“Fuck.” His voice turned to ice. “There goes any backup plan.”

Backup plan?

He pointed to the plate. “Did you put this on my cucumber?”

“Y-yes,” I stammered, wiping my palm against my thigh. He was angry. I made him angry.

“Did I ask you to do that?”

I shook my head. “No, sir.”

“You’re right. I didn’t. It’s meant to be a palate cleanser.”

“I can make you a new plate,” I suggested.

“Don’t bother.” He finished his drink in one gulp. “I’ll take another one of these,” he said, holding up the crystal tumbler.

“Yes, sir.” Our fingers brushed during the exchange. It was like touching a charged wire, sending a flash of electricity up my arm. I caught his eye again, cold and heartless. This man was dangerous.

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