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I’m not London, and I don’t have a heart of gold.
“Thank you for joining me last minute.”
“I’ve been expecting your call.” Dad takes his seat, and a second later the stewardess places a whiskey neat in front of him. “Thank you, Ellen.”
“Let me know if you need anything else, sir.” And then just like that, she disappears from sight. The in-flight crew knows to make themselves scarce unless we call upon them after the doors close and the engines turn on.
My men are a few rows back and watching a basketball game while Carmelo studies the information Javier gave him before this flight. He knows the drill, what I expect, and takes it seriously, which I appreciate.
“Get it off your chest.” Dad’s voice pulls my eyes to his.
“I will in a minute. Go ahead and get your story together.” Grabbing my phone from the table, I swipe my finger across the screen and send Twirl a quick message.
Taking off. Behave while I am gone, and I’ll have something sweet for you when I get back. ~Malcolm
Her reply is instant, and it’s hard to keep myself from smiling.
I’ve always been an angel. ~Twirl
Promises. Promises ~Twirl
My mind immediately goes back to just before we left for the airfield and I had her bent over the bathroom sink, legs spread, with my face buried between her thighs. To the way she whimpers every time I rake my teeth over her clit. The way she trembles when I dig my fingers into her hips, holding her in place.
I can still taste her decadence on my tongue.
See the fire in her eyes when she begs for more.
An attachment comes through, and it’s a picture with some sort of filter that adds wings and a halo to her. She’s glowing in it. Beautiful. Wearing the sweetest grin, with a small hint of the blotchiness from the few tears that fell when I kissed her at the security gate.
It’s perfect. She’s perfect.
Another text comes in just as I’m going to respond.
Is it weird that I miss you already? You just left and I feel off without you here. ~Twirl
Not at all when I feel the same. Call you when I land. ~Malcolm
“Happiness looks good on you,” Dad says, pulling my attention away from her messages. “And your mother adores her, by the way.”
“Why?”
His smile drops, and he gives me a grimace. “Shit didn’t look good, Malcolm. That’s the God’s honest truth.” Dad rubs a tired hand down his face. “Look at it from my point of view; a pretty girl, her last name is Foster, and she’s wearing bruises on her neck and deep scratches down her arm...wouldn’t you be concerned?”
Nodding, I pick up my glass and drain the rest of its contents. “I agree that it looked bad, but you made her feel unwelcomed in my home, and that’s unacceptable. Pull me aside. Question me where she can’t hear, but never in her presence again. Understood?”
Ellen appears then with a new drink for me; a gin and tonic with a cucumber and lemon slice, setting it on the table beside a cheese plate.
“Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, sir.” Once more she disappears inside a small area up front for the staff.
“You’re right. How I handled it was wrong, and I apologize.”
“Accepted.”
“I know you’d never hurt someone who’s an innocent, son. More so, someone we both know isn’t involved in her family’s schemes, but I couldn’t in good conscience not ask—”
“Wait a minute.” Holding a hand up, I stop him. We both know... “What do you mean by that? You know her?”
