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“Here,” Lycus says. “These are yours too.”
He pushes a handful of items towards me and I don’t even look at them before dropping them into my bag. Wordlessly, I make my way to my seat, trying to push away the feelings of humiliation and embarrassment.
It’s a long, hot walk of shame to my seat. Once I’m in economy class, every single person I pass gives me a filthy look for holding them up. I’m sure those in business class and First didn’t mind so much, sitting in the lap of luxury, but no one back here wants to spend a second longer in this place than is absolutely necessary.
As I sit down in my cramped seat, my cheeks are still burning with shame. I can’t believe how much of a mess I’m making of everything. First losing my boarding pass and passport, then breaking my bag and embarrassing myself in front of Lycus and the air stewardess. I just want this flight to be over and to forget this whole experience ever happened.
The staff run through the pre-flight checks and safety announcements in double-quick time and I can’t help but feel like they’re rushing to make up for lost time. I don’t think safety checks should be rushed.
I listen avidly to the announcements and memorise the card so I know where the exits are and what my exit strategy will be in the case of an emergency. Then I calculate my backup plan and my backup’s backup plan.
As soon as the engines power up and the plane begins to bounce with the restrained power that’s bursting to break free once the brakes are released, my stomach swoops and I wretch.
I slam my hand over my mouth and grab for the sick bag before me, bringing it up to my mouth and trying not to hyperventilate into it. The people on either side of me shoot me disgusted looks.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I really hate flying. Why did I agree to this? I should have got my mum to write me a note to excuse me.
The noise of the engines becomes deafening and suddenly we’re off, racing down the tarmac at speeds we would never survive if we were to crash or run out of runway andfuck!
“Applewood, Brie, Camembert, Double Gloucester, Edam, FUCK!” The plane lurches and I lose my train of thought, drop the paper bag and clutch the armrests like my life depends on it.
The people sitting either side of me tut, but my eyes are screwed too tightly closed to see their appalled expressions. Somewhere in front of me a baby starts to cry, its mother shushing and soothing it, and the tears I’ve been keeping at bay begin to leak through my lowered lashes.
The plane finally takes off – I can tell from the way my stomach somersaults – and we ascend into the air. As the plane levels out, I force myself to relax, taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself down.
A few minutes pass and I begin to feel like maybe I can make it through this flight without completely losing my mind. That’s when I hear it. The unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat.
I open my eyes to find Lycus standing in the aisle, his hand resting on the headrest of the seat in front of me. He looks down at me with those piercing green eyes and my heart rate picks up. Why does he have to be so damn attractive?
“Hey,” he says, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. “You okay?”
I nod, feeling like I’m suddenly unable to speak. He’s so close to me that I can smell his cologne, the scent both intoxicating and overwhelming. I want to lean into him, to breathe him in and never let go.
“Good,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “I couldn’t help but notice you were having a tough time back there.”
I try to speak, but my throat feels like it’s closed up. I manage a nod and he smiles in a sympathetic way, which I find oddly comforting. “Look, I know flying is hard for you, and I’m guessing from how frazzled you are, that things haven’t run smoothly for you this morning, but you’re here now. You made it and we’ve plenty of time to kill. So why don’t you try to relax, and if you need anything at all, you know where I am, yeah?”
I nod again, biting my lip to prevent a smile from forming on my face. Lycus is being so kind to me, despite the embarrassing way I’ve behaved towards him at times. It’s like he can read my mind, sensing my nerves and making me feel at ease.
“Thank you,” I manage to say, my voice barely above a whisper.
He nods, turning to walk back towards his seat in business class. As he moves away, my eyes follow him, taking in the way his broad shoulders fill out his suit jacket and the way his tailored pants hug his toned legs. I can feel my cheeks heating up again and I look away, flustered by my own thoughts.
I take a deep breath and try to relax, letting the hum of the plane and the soft murmurs of the other passengers lull me into a state of calm. For the first time since arriving at the airport this morning, I begin to feel like maybe everything will be okay.
ChapterEleven
Lycus
Ifeel so bad. I’ve no idea why I’m sitting in business class while Angelica is back there in coach. The company booked the flights. I’m guessing Mr Mortimer’s assistant, Stacy, decided to give me a boost, thinking it would put her in my good graces.
I’m not stupid, I know the office is rife with gossip about me. I’m good looking, my Italian heritage drawing me plenty of attention over the years. At work, many of the women – and a couple of the guys – have made it clear that they want me.
But I’ve never shown any interest in anyone other than Angelica. I’ve heard a couple of women bragging that they’ve been on dates with me, and even though it’s bullshit, I never embarrassed them by calling them out on their lies, because it never seemed to matter, since the only person whose opinion I cared about never seemed to engage in any breakroom drama.
If Stacy did book me a business class seat while deliberately putting Angelica in coach, thinking it would impress me, she’s sorely mistaken and I’ll be having words with her when we get back.
In fact, I’ll email as soon as we’re checked in at the hotel to ensure there’s no such mistakes for the flight home – even if I have to pay out of pocket for it myself.
