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I scoot as close as I can to the door opposite of Rowan, still fuming as Reginald drives us to a field at the farthest end of the property.
Instead of opening the door and walking me toward the plane like a civilized gentleman, the second my shoes touch the ground, my barbaric fiancé scoops me into his arms and carries me, bride-and-groom style.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Kendrick—” The pilot halts, eyes wide and hand hovering midair as we approach the private jet.
“Don’t worry about me,” I say sarcastically. “I’m just the prisoner—oh!”
I’m jostled by a smirking Rowan, who simply nods to the pilot before ascending the steps.
The man drops his hand while Reginald mutters something to him, and they quickly follow us onto the plane.
“You know, I’m gettin’ real tired of you thinkin’ you can drag me around like this,” I mutter as he ducks inside.
After walking me to the main cabin, he carefully settles me onto a leather chair next to a small window. “I do love when that accent comes out.”
He has the audacity to grin at my wrinkling nose, and I clamp my mouth shut in spite.
Rowan stares at me for a long moment, and I match his gaze with untapped ferocity. He wants to look at this face? He wants me to show the world who I really am? Well fine. Let him get a good hard look at the monster I see every day.
I expect him to storm off, but he surprises me by leaning over and buckling me in.
“I understand that you’re angry at me, and I know you want me to apologize, but I’m not sorry, Molly.” My chest stills when he turns to me again with firm, unfiltered admiration. “Cry your tears. Hate me if you must. But you will shed this notion that you’re not a woman worth begging for.”
Unable to stand it any longer, I turn toward the window. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to block him out, but he’s everywhere. His scent, filling my nose, his heated kisses, still fresh on my lips, and those words, branded on my heart.
Damn him.
After a moment, he retreats to the cockpit, where he and Reginald speak quietly with the pilot, leaving me in the silence of the luxury cabin.
It’s impressive, I’ll give him that.
White leather covers the seats and the bench adjacent to me, which looks as though it might double as a bed. Polished wood accents gleam under the soft ambient lighting, and a gold-plated wet bar resides at the back where I spot the opening to another room.
My pulse thunders when Rowan returns, but instead of taking his seat, he heads straight to the bar. Minutes later, I hear ice hitting glass, followed by the sound of sloshing liquid.
After settling into the seat beside mine, he offers me a crystal glass filled halfway with a clear bubbling liquid.
“What is it?”
He seems pleased when I take it from him. “Vodka and soda. For your nerves.”
The plane taxis into position as Reginald swiftly disappears to the room in the back and closes the door.
As if reading my mind, Rowan says, “I asked him to come. He’ll be driving for us.”
He says this plainly, but I know he’s grown fond of the butler, and I can’t help but think there’s more to his tagging along than simply being our driver.
“Is this safe?” I ask, breathlessly terrified, as the world shifts past the windows. “F-flying?”
“Yes.” He’s assumed his softer side again, making my head spin. “Believe it or not, you’re safer in the sky than you are in a car.”
I doubt that very much, but I lift the glass and take several large gulps anyway.
The plane’s nose eventually tips toward the sky as we take off, and I grip the armrests tightly.
“Oh my god,” I pant as fear sluices my insides, contorting my guts into knots. My hand shakes when I reach for Rowan, needing something to ground me.
“It’s okay.” He takes my hand in his, squeezing reassuringly, and my heart lurches into my throat for an entirely different reason. “We’ll level out soon, but you’re safe, I promise.”
