Page 5 of Bound To Be Mine

Our mother sat on the bed with Elizabeth and started running through a list of things she’d done to help her in the coming postpartum weeks, like hiring a cleaner for their house, setting them up with a meal delivery service, and offering to have a doula come in and take a couple of night shifts whenever Elizabeth needed rest.

Dash leaned against the wall and we locked eyes. He shrugged one shoulder, as if to acknowledge that he and I were the only ones left.

The only ones alone.

“Gonna hold him?” Adrian asked.

I laughed. “No thanks. He’s way too fresh out of the oven. I’ll hold him when he’s bigger than a football.”

Adrian folded his arms and leaned one shoulder on the doorframe. His head titled to one side as he fought back a yawn. “Man, you gotta try this.”

“What?”

He nodded at the scene before us. “All of it.”

2

MANDY

Play it cool. Play it cool. Play it cool.

While this might be the first time I ever set foot on a private jet, I didn’t need the attendant staff or the pilots knowing that truth. For all they knew, this type of luxury experience was my bread and butter.

Economy? Me? Never.

Did I like the free pretzels so much that my mouth was watering for them now? No! Of course not. I was classy, just like my best friend, Cleo Blackwell, who settled into one of the first seats near a window and set her Blackwell Couture designer bag down in the empty seat beside her. I took a deep breath and seized my chance to soak it all in before we left the runway.

Cleo and Callum Blackwell’s family jet was all cream leather and dark wood paneling. Everything had been polished to a high shine, and it smelled like lemons and eucalyptus onboard. A TV was mounted on one wall with a full-sized freaking couch on the opposite wall. The couch had throw pillows monogrammed with the letter B, and a blanket had been casually draped over the back.

“Sit down anywhere, Mandy,” Cleo said. “Except in the cockpit. The pilots get annoyed.”

I sank into one of the six buttery leather chairs and put my laptop bag on the floor. Cleo’s seat was directly across from me. Callum sat on the couch, his eyes glued to his phone screen, his brows drawn in a scowl. Business, I assumed. Despite being creative, he had always liked being involved in the financial side of things. Cleo was way more about the designing part.

The brother and sister had grown up flying on chartered planes and vacationing in the Maldives. They’d had birthday parties on yachts in the South Pacific, attended galas on the arms of celebrities, and been gifted millions of dollars for no reason other than an accountant found extra money in an account and someone needed to claim it.

“Excited?” Cleo asked with a bright smile.

I ran my fingers over the armrests and caressed the stitched edges. “That’s one word for it. I definitely feel like throwing up.”

“Don’t be stressed. They’re family.” Cleo leaned forward and stretched her arm out to put her hand on my knee. There was so much dang space in this place. “You’re going to love them.”

“They’re Blackwells.”

“We’re Blackwells,” she said with a laugh.

“You’re Cleo.”

“And Callum,” he added like I might have forgotten him.

“I mean, I know you guys. I don’t know them.”

“It’s a business deal,” Callum said. “You’re with us and that’s all they need to know.”

I snorted and buckled my seatbelt. Ten minutes later, we were in the sky and leaving the Los Angeles sunshine behind.

The flight attendant brought sparkling water with fresh raspberries and a whole charcuterie board overflowing with a selection of aged cheeses, specialty crackers, cured meats, and fresh grapes.

We moved to sit at the table in the rear section of the plane and brought the charcuterie with us. We had business to discuss before we landed in New York City.