Page 63 of The One-Night Heist

The irony here was that Rowen’s “crimes” in this situation were objectively far greater than me overstepping with his job and sending matched luggage without consent. Yet, you would think I’d gravely injured him by the way he was lashing out, as if daring me to hold him equally accountable.

To treat him as an equal at all…

I hummed playfully. “You shouldn’t give up just yet. D.B. Cooper successfully hijacked a plane in the 1960s and escaped via parachute with $200,000.”

And if anyone could mimic that feat, it would be you.

Rowen gave me a blank look before groaning and scrubbing a hand down his face. “Jesus, Giano. Why do you have to be so goddamn cute?” He turned in his seat to better scowl at me. “It was 1971, his name—which a reporter got wrong—was Dan Cooper, and the only person to find useful evidence was an eight-year-old kid who discovered disintegrated ransom money on a beach while camping with his family almost a decade later. The FBI finally gave up the chase in 2016, after managing to misplace the hair sample from the flight, the cigarette butts… almost all of the evidence containing his DNA. Typical.”

I couldn’t stop from smiling openly. At this point, I fully accepted it was physically impossible for me to remain upset with this man, no matter his crimes and no matter how much glorious attitude he showered me with. As far as I was concerned, we could do this dance for the rest of my life and it would never be enough.

“You seem to know quite a bit about the case, Mr. Quincy,” I teased. “Was Dan Cooper a relative of yours?”

Nothing would surprise me when it comes to him.

Rowen’s expression immediately shuttered. “I have no idea. I spent my entire childhood in an orphanage.”

My stomach dropped 40,000 feet to the ground far below. “Oh,” I managed to choke out, trying not to pass out from the overwhelming emotions flooding my system. “Okay.”

Apparently, that was not the response he’d been expecting, as his impassive mask faltered in favor of revealing his shock, tinged with anger. “Okay? I… Usually people sling false platitudes at me when I tell them that exceptionally tragic tidbit about my life.”

Exceptional…

Careful, Giano.

I sensed I needed to tread carefully, even as all I wanted to do was drag him across the aisle and into my lap. “It’s not your fault you grew up in an orphanage, Rowen, or that you weren’t adopted. Our lives—the differences between you and me…” I gestured at both of us, praying that what I was trying to say was coming across correctly. “It’s all just… luck.”

His already pale skin paled so alarmingly, I could see every freckle, and for a moment, I wondered if he might attempt to parachute from the plane after all.

Please don’t.

When he abruptly unbuckled his seatbelt and stood, I hurriedly did the same. Even knowing he had nowhere to go, I was determined not to let him out of my sight.

Not until I know he’s okay.

“All right, Moneybags.” He grabbed my tie and yanked me closer, making me stumble. “You asked if my shirt was an invitation…”

I dragged my gaze down from where I’d focused on his lips, my field of vision filled with large letters spelling out “EAT THE RICH” on his distractingly tight shirt.

“Y-yes…” I stuttered. “I did.”

“Well, I have an answer for you, so come on.” Rowen began briskly walking toward the back of the aircraft, dragging me along behind him. “Rich assholes get eaten figuratively, but good boys get eaten for real.”

Twenty-One

Giancarlo

I choked on air. “W-what? You’re going to⁠—”

“Eat your ass?” Rowen called over his shoulder, loud enough for the imaginary surveillance and anyone in the cockpit to hear. “Sure am! And I hope you prepped for the possibility. Otherwise, you’re gonna clean yourself out in front of me as the opening act.”

All the blood in my body abruptly raced to my dick at the thought. “I… prepped…”

But now I wish I hadn’t.

He stopped and spun so abruptly, I nearly ran into him. “Oh, my god. You’re disappointed, aren’t you? Fuck, you are such a fucking stealth slut and I am here for it. Let’s go!”

My head was still spinning over the revelation about his childhood, but now near-suffocating lust had clouded over any thoughts that didn’t have to do with Rowen’s tongue.