On a plane.
"You designed this?" I ask, because Claire mentioned something about his specifications in her greeting.
"Most of it, yes." Victor removes his coat, revealing a navy blue slacks that fits him like a sin. “Not the biggest fan of using the company jet, but when I do…” He shrugs. “Might as well be comfortable."
"Comfortable? This is—This is much more than comfortable.”
“I’d call it practical."
“I’d call it a flying penthouse.”
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
Claire brings champagne without being asked, setting two glasses on the table between the facing seats. "We'll be taking off in about fifteen minutes. Please let me know if you need anything."
She disappears toward the cockpit, leaving us alone.
Victor gestures to one of the seats. "Sit."
"You're very bossy this morning."
"This morning. This afternoon. This evening." He sits across from me, crossing one ankle over his knee. "I'm consistently bossy. You're just now noticing?"
"I noticed. I'm just deciding whether I find it attractive or annoying."
"And your conclusion?"
"I'll let you know when we land."
He smiles at that—slow and devastating. "Fair enough."
I sink into the seat, and it's exactly as comfortable as it looks. Possibly more comfortable. I could live in this seat.
"So," I say, reaching for my champagne because I need something to do with my hands. "Four hours to Vegas."
"Three and a half if we have good tailwinds."
"What are we going to do for three and a half hours?"
His eyes darken slightly. "I have several ideas."
"Professional ideas?"
"Some of them."
My pulse kicks up. "Victor?—"
"Relax, Harper. I'm not going to ravish you at thirty thousand feet." He pauses. "Unless you ask nicely."
I cough around my champagne. "I'm not going to ask—we're not—this is a business trip."
"Is it?"
"Yes. You said so yourself. Board meetings. Dinner with CulinaryVision executives."
"I also said I needed you there for personal reasons."
"Which we're not discussing right now."
