Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Her jaw drops on my screen. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope,” I say, and she screams with excitement.
Right then, a low thrum grows outside, the unmistakable churn of blades.
“That’s it—it’s here.”
I hurry to the window facing Hugh’s estate, the vast lawn stretching out, and there it is: a sleek, jet-black helicopter descending, his initials glinting on its side. The grass ripples in wild waves, the air alive with its furious power.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, and Sandy’s voice cuts through, giddy.
“Quick, turn the camera. I wanna see!”
I laugh, flipping the phone’s lens, showing her the beast touching down on what I never realized was a landing pad. The roar softens as the blades slow. A pilot in uniform and another figure step out, and my phone buzzes again. Hugh, probably. My cheeks burn, excitement bubbling over, drowning my caution. I turn the camera back to Sandy, her grin infectious.
“You’re gonna have a blast,” she says. “But don’t look too impressed out there—he’ll know he’s got you.”
“Okay,” I say, straightening, forcing my face to look neutral and cool despite the thrill humming through me. “I’ve got this.”
I end the call, slip into my heels—black, strappy, a touch daring—and grab my small purse. My heart’s pounding, the helicopter’s hum lingering in my bones. A knock at the door stops me cold, and I expect one of his staff or some polished assistant to fetch me.
But when I open it, it’s him.
My breath catches, sharp and involuntary. God, he’s devastating—darker than the night of the party, his suit midnight-blue, tailored to emphasize every line of his frame. His hair’s a touch wild, his eyes catching the porch light, is piercing. I swear, he’s unreal, like he’s stepped out of one of my grandmother’s novels. For a few seconds, I can’t even speak, my throat is so tight with excitement.
A smile tugs at his lips. “Our ride’s here.”
“Yeah,” I manage, my voice a ghost of how usually is. “I… heard it. Saw it.” My eyes flick to the helicopter, its blades still now, a sleek predator on the lawn.
He smiles wider, and my heart, traitor that it is, skips like a baby deer.
“Shall we?”
“Yes,” I say, too quickly, then catch myself. “Yeah, I’m ready.” I clutch my purse, stepping out, the night air cool against my bare shoulders. He’s close, not touching, but near enough I feel his warmth. I’m torn—half-wanting to run back inside to safety, half-thrilled to follow him into the sky.
Chapter
Thirty
HUGH
The red dress clings to her like a second skin, every curve a quiet dare. Her strawberry-blonde hair, swept up with soft curls framing her face, glows under the porch’s naked bulb. I’ve been half-mad imagining how she would look, but this… this is something else. She looks glamorous and fierce, and I feel desire surge and coil tight in my gut, too fast to tame. I want to charm her with the usual lines that work on women, telling them they look lovely, but my throat locks and I can’t utter those trite words. All I can do is mutter something about our ride being here.
She glances past me, eyes wide at the chopper, its black hull gleaming on the lawn. Yes,” she says, “Yeah, I’m ready.”
I fall into step beside her, my hand finding the small of her back—light and casual, but my pulse is pounding like I’m a boy again. Touching her, even in this small way, keeps me anchored. Without it, I’d unravel, lost in how she moves, how her dress shimmers with each move her body makes. My fingers graze her arm as we cross the grass, her skin warm, and even that simple contact sparks and heat flares through me like a current. I’m enamored, helplessly caught, and I don’t care to fight it.
I help her up the steps of the chopper, my hand steadying her as she climbs in. She fumbles with the seatbelt, and a soft laugh escapes her. She’s embarrassed. How sweet? Wordlessly, I lean close and click the straps into place.
Her eyes meet mine, close enough I see the flecks in them, and I want to say it—you’re beautiful—but the words choke me, too real, too raw. I smile instead, hoping it’s enough, and she smiles back, shy and warm, and something deep in me twists. I nod at the pilot and attendant at the front, and we lift off, the world tilting below. Ahead, London’s waiting.
The city’s lights are a glittering promise as we descend. I’ve gained back some composure by the time we land, enough to talk without betraying myself, though her presence is still crackling next to me like a live wire.
We land on the helipad on top of my office building, and my driver waits for us on the street below. I wanted to overwhelm her, and I think I have. At The Vellum Club, I guide her through the black marble floors, velvet drapes, and the air thick with wealth and whispers. Our table’s front and center, reserved for the best view of the stage. Suavely, I pull out her chair, my hand brushing her shoulder, and ask, “Drink?”