Chapter 68
1529words
Though I wasn't accustomed to being spoiled, there were certain trappings of the rich and famous that I had grown rather fond of. None more so than the private jet.
"Well, that's me done." I flopped onto a plush leather recliner the moment we boarded, tossing my purse beside me. "Wake me up when we're back in Manhattan."
Nicholas chuckled and took a seat next to me, nodding to the pilot that he was ready to take off. 'See, you look like one of my girlfriends already."
My lips twitched up in a grin, as I peeked out from beneath my complimentary sleep mask. 'Tell me...does gifting me this plane technically count as ‘spoiling?' Or is that a little above and beyond."
He laughed again. Something he had been doing ten times more of since I officially said yes to his crazy little scheme. 'You want the plane? It's yours."
'Perfect." I tilted my head back like a lazy queen, calling out to the pilot. 'In that case, Jimmy, I'm ready to go."
Nicholas grinned indulgently. 'It's Ethan, actually."
'Oh, Nicholas," I took off the sleep mask and flashed him a smile, 'how can I keep up with so many names that make your day-to-day life that much simpler?"
As he laughed yet again, a bemused voice crackled from over the speakers.
'Please take a seat as we prepare for take-off. In honor of Ms. Winchester, we'll officially be experiencing a bit more turbulence than usual..."
I flipped him off with a grin as my phone buzzed in my bag. While Nicholas wrangled us two glasses of complimentary champagne (as if we needed any more to drink tonight), I dug around just in time to see my mother's name light up on the screen. My face wilted for a moment as my finger hovered uncertainly over the two options to reply.
'Who's that?" Nicholas asked, passing me a drink.
I ignored it quickly and stashed it back in my bag, surfacing with a grateful smile as I took my first bubbling sip. 'It's my mom. I'll call her back later. Ironing out all the fine details of our arrangement is very important."
His eyes twinkled as he held up his glass.
'In that case...to us. To wherever this crazy road may lead."
Wherever indeed...
We clinked glasses and downed the champagne with the speed of two people who had long since numbed themselves to the taste of alcohol for the night. The glasses were refilled, and we leaned back comfortably as the plane took off and lifted through the midnight clouds.
'You should know," Nicholas began with just the faintest hint of a slur, 'this is already the most committed relationship I've ever been in." He caught my sarcastic look, and shrugged innocently. 'I'm serious. Nothing else comes close. Look at the contenders."
'What about Janelle?" I reasoned.
Janelle Mirach was one of Nicholas's only consorts that I had actually ever liked. Unlike the rest of the endless parade, she actually had a good head on her shoulders, and could match him at basically every level of conversation. If it weren't for the fact that she'd been engaged to a European prince for most of their time together, things might have taken off. I was actually a bit sad to see her go. Sent a personal congratulations card to the wedding.
Nicholas shook his head slowly. 'Janelle was just a friend. She was only ever just a friend."
My eyebrows shot skeptically into my hair.
'The two of you had an awful lot of sex considering she was just a friend."
He chuckled and took another swig of champagne.
'I fuck a lot of my friends. How do you think people get to be friends in the first place?"
...Nicholas always had a rather unique way of seeing the world.
I shook my head and decided to let it go. I'd learned long ago that if I was going to be working with Nicholas, I was going to have to pick my battles carefully.
You see, when people reach a certain level in the social sphere, certain misconceptions tend to take hold. The persona of a ‘mindless playboy' seemed to fit, and those who didn't know him tended to run with that assessment.
But Nicholas defied the stereotype.
It had only taken a minute of talking to him to realize that the guy had a rather brilliant head on his shoulders. Freakishly brilliant, in fact. Most of the time, it was those same people who underestimated him that were struggling to keep up.
He was beautifully educated, top of his class. Princeton and Harvard undergrad, followed by a stint at Oxford graduate school where he earned not one, but five different degrees.
Granted, he had once told me that all that paled in comparison to an orgasm. He was dripping in champagne at the time, and conspicuously missing his pants.
But like I said...pick my battles.
'Anyway," I deliberately changed the subject, 'we have an awful lot of planning to do if the merger is just three months away. You made some good progress with Elisia, but if we're going to be changing women, then we're going to have to start from scratch."
My hands drifted down with something akin to muscle memory and pulled my laptop, phones, and day-planner from my bag. Even a half gallon of tequila couldn't stop them.
'That means the works. Dinners, galas, award ceremonies, sporting events. In fact," I raised my laptop frantically in the air above me, trying to get a signal, 'when is that one horse race where everyone wears the stupid hats? That could do really nicely—"
'Aaaaaand that's enough for you."
With a wide sweep of his arm, Nicholas confiscated my computer, phones, and champagne all in one fell swoop. Before I could stop him, the top came down, the mobiles vanished, and he had drained the cup—tossing them all on the seat behind him in a careless pile
'Nicholas!" I screeched, staring after the phones like they were my long-lost children. 'What are you doing?! You know better than to touch the—"
'—the what?" he challenged. As usual—he sensed a great deal more than I gave him credit for. A great deal more than I would have wanted. 'The kids? They're phones, Avy."
I lowered my voice to a furious whisper.
'They can hear you."
His face softened into an affectionate smile.
'I understand that there's a lot to be planning, I really do. But before you start buying us horses to race in the Kentucky Derby—"
'—the Kentucky Derby, that's what it's called—"
'—let me suggest that you get a little sleep."
I looked at him doubtfully, but he gestured to the chair with one of those self-righteous looks I'd come to know and love and despise so well.
'I'll guard them with my life, you have my word. But you," he pressed me carefully down into a chair of my own, coaxing that sleep mask back up to my eyes, 'have drunk enough to make the boys of Ireland proud. Let's say we sleep it off a little, yeah?"
The chair did look tempting. And what he was saying did make a hell of a lot of sense, but the workaholic in me didn't really know what ‘sleep' was.
'I'll just write emails," I promised, in what I took to be a very rational voice. 'Save them as drafts for later."
The mask snapped down over my face.
'Rest," his voice drifted out of the darkness, 'we'll work it out in the morning. It'll keep until then."
I didn't want to do it. I really didn't. But the plush leather was so inviting, and the second my eyes were closed, I realized how very heavy they'd become. The last thing I remembered before drifting off was a soft rustling sound just over my shoulder. A pair of lips brushed against my forehead—so soft that it was possible I could have imagined it.
A second later, I was awake no more. Drifting in and out of a dozen different time zones as I surrendered myself to the tranquil clarity of sleep.
When I finally opened my eyes, it felt like years had passed. The cabin was still cloaked in darkness, yet I sensed I'd been asleep for quite some time. It wasn't until the wheels of the plane abruptly jolted against the runway that I realized we had been flying through time zones. Six hours in the air had translated into only thirty minutes of real-time passage, placing us just past one in the morning in New York.
"Nicholas?" I murmured automatically, trying to orient myself as I glanced around the dimly lit cockpit. In response, all the lights flickered on suddenly to greet me.
