It’s decadent. Extravagant. The kind of travel that doesn’t just make you feel seen. Every last piece has been designed to remind you that you’re not just a passenger – you’resomeone important.
No one does travel like Peregrine Airways and it should feel like home. Itusedto feel like home.
But now, every time I glance at the logo embroidered on the headrest, I’m reminded that I’m only here because my father said so and that he could snatch this from me as easily as he gave it back.
The reminder sours the champagne on my tongue.
This is truly our last chance to pull it off. To show our fathers that Asher and I are a disaster together.
The world’s most incompatible couple.
Toxic enough that no amount of corporate spin could possibly sell our ‘love story’ to their investors and shareholders.
But couples like that don’t kiss the way Asher and I did last week.
I keep telling myself that I can still do this. That I can look at Asher and remember the plan, not the way he tasted or the way it felt to press my curves against him. That I can be cold and cutting in public and seemingly impossible to love.
But if I’m being honest with myself, I’m not sure I believe it anymore.
‘Okay, so,’ Sloane says suddenly, turning sideways in her seat to face me fully. ‘What’s the plan?’
She doesn’t need to elaborate; I know exactly what she’s asking.
‘Just more of the same really,’ I say with a shrug.
‘More of the same,’ she repeats flatly. ‘Well that’s the stupidest thing I’ve heard.’
I scowl at her. ‘I don’t see you coming up with any ideas.’
She holds up her hands semi-apologetically. ‘Fair. But I know you can’t just show up and start throwing drinks at each other. Been there. Done that. The people arebored.’
I shrug, even though that is pretty much exactly what I’d been planning on doing on this trip. ‘Asher’s coming up with the plan. We’re supposed to meet once we get there to finalise the strategy.’
‘And you trust him to think of something good?’
‘I have to,’ I say. Not just because I’m running on empty when it comes to potential ideas, but because I don’t trust myself around Asher anymore.
When this all started, it was almost fun. Matching him glare for glare, insult for insult. Watching the tension build in a way that made everyone else around us uncomfortable.
But then the kiss happened and now every version of this plan feels a little like playing with fire.
Sloane taps a manicured finger against her glass. ‘You’ve got that look again.’
‘What look?’
‘I thought you were just excited about being airborne again, but now I’m wondering…’ She tilts her head, studying me like a cat about to pounce. ‘What happened?’
A lump forms in my throat. ‘Huh?’
She leans in. ‘Something. Happened.’
‘Nothing happened,’ I squeak, and then wince because God damn it, I just squeaked.
Sloane lifts a brow. ‘It did.’
I bite my lip. I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t tell Sloane about the kiss as soon as Asher left my place. In all the years we’ve known each other, I don’t think I’ve ever intentionally hidden anything from her.
Sloane studies me for a long moment, her expression caught somewhere between suspicion and concern. ‘You’re biting your lip,’ she says finally. ‘That’s your tell.’
