Page 6 of Jealous Vows

She clears her throat, checks her watch—a cheap monstrosity not worth the battery inside it—and takes a step backward.

“Listen, I won’t tell anyone about any of this, so don’t worry about me ratting you out.I just—”

She freezes when I reach into my pocket, but I pull out my custom-designed titanium bolt-action pen.Her eyes widen in shock then narrow in disbelief.Even after I click-click the writing device, she remains skeptical for a few moments before slapping on a relieved expression.

Despite the heavy, smooth, metallic sound, it doesn’t quite carry the same weight as pulling back the hammer of my pistol.

She knows it wasn’t the sound she heard earlier but plays along like a true survivor.

“What a relief!I’m glad it worked.You helped me out of a tight spot.I—”

“How much did he really steal from you?”I ask.

I don’t realize the hidden connotation of my question until she pales and scans the area for an escape.

She may have said he hadn’t caught her, but the lowlife terrorized her for two years.The caged panic in her eyes tells of a traumatized soul desperate for escape.

I grit my teeth in fury.Her fear belongs to me and me alone.

She straightens her shoulders and shakes her head.

“Honestly, this is more than I was expecting.I’m just glad I have my ID back,” she says in a faux cheery voice.Like a true Cali girl—or someone well-versed in customer service—she dons a slightly absent expression and smiles.

“Thank you, sir, and sorry to run, but I’ll miss my flight if I don’t head to security now.Thanks again,” she finishes over her shoulder as she bustles out onto the busy sidewalk.

I smirk as I watch her stride away.Although she’s short, her legs are long, and I bet her body is killer in a bikini.Even though her jeans are high-waisted, loose fit, and wide legged, the sway of her ass has me fully hard while standing in the designated smoking area at the airport.

I’ll make her pay for the discomfort.

By the fear shining from her depths as she scurried away, she knows she can’t escape me, but she also can’t stop fighting for freedom.It’s cute.

I wait until she passes through the airport entrance before I pull out another cigarette.This one isn’t as sweet and doesn’t hold the same appeal as the last one, so I snuff it out and slip the butt into the disposal before heading to the employee entrance.

A few nods and the occasional wad of cash get me to the tarmac without going through security.After confirming the new seating arrangement with my contact inside the airport, I nod to the luggage crew and wait in the shade under the boarding bridge until the worker at the end opens the door and gestures me up.I take the stairs and step aside as they begin transferring the baby strollers and gate-checked bags down the ramp.

My insider didn’t complain about changing seat assignments since I sent her more than she makes in a year, but maybe the chaos of an overbooked flight helped hide the last second change.

I duck through the door, meet the pilot’s eyes, and maneuver through the tight space until I reach the aisle.Every seat has an occupant.Even the last row near the shitters—where Sienna’s original seat was located—is full.The old man sitting in my original first-class seat still looks baffled, but he buckles in and reaches for a magazine.

Sienna sits in the middle seat of the center row.I contemplated moving her to first class beside me but decided it would be too big of a tip off to her about my intentions.The longer she doesn’t suspect me of fowl play, the sweeter my revenge.

Already fastened and ready for takeoff, she leans over the armrest toward my empty seat to avoid the man sitting on her other side.He may be bulky, but his size is nothing compared to mine, so his overtaking of the space is purely his attempt at dominance over the tiny slip of a woman beside him.

She looks up and meets my eyes.The world narrows and I enjoy the shrinking of her pupils and widening of her lashes.As I stalk toward her, a myriad of emotions flashes across her dainty features, and by the time I stop beside the empty seat, she tucks away her disbelief, fear, and dread, and shifts toward the center of her seat.Resignation shines from her expressive light brown orbs.

Unlike most of the pampered bimbos who throw themselves at me, Sienna’s quick mind churns at an impressive speed.

Her quick wit adds a special thrill to this cat-and-mouse game.Her body may be weak and easy to break, but not her will.I can’t wait to watch her struggle both underneath me and by my side in polite society.Her shame and humiliation will be the most epic revenge, especially since her uncle won’t be able to help her.

Without a word, I fold myself into the seat, willing to accept the discomfort for approximately six hours of close proximity with my prey.Despite her best attempts at avoiding my touch, she’s so sandwiched between me and the man on her other side that even pressing her knees together and folding her hands in her lap isn’t enough to stop our shoulders and thighs from brushing.

The flight attendants finish their last round of checks before buckling in for the prerecorded safety brief.Sienna closes her eyes but remains rigid.When she jerks at the tiniest bump, I study her face and worry over her paleness.

“You’re not going to vomit, are you?”I ask.

The man on her other side stiffens.She scoffs and mumbles under her breath.

“There’s nothing in my stomach to vomit, so no.I’m fine.”