Page 92 of Bound To Be Mine

Another lie. I was thinking about how much I was going to miss Briggs. How quiet my house would be without him in it. How my bed would feel too big and too empty with just me in it again.

We’d spent every night together for the past two weeks. I’d gotten used to falling asleep in his arms. To waking up with his face being the first thing I saw.

I’d gotten used to having a husband.

The car pulled through the gate at the private airfield. I recognized the hangar from my first trip to New York. That felt like a lifetime ago now. So much had changed since then. I’d changed.

We climbed out, and I immediately spotted the jet sitting on the tarmac. The same one I’d flown on before. The same crew was doing their pre-flight checks.

“Ready?” Briggs asked, grabbing both our bags.

“As I’ll ever be.”

We walked across the tarmac together. The pilot greeted us warmly, clearly recognizing me from my previous flight. If he thought it was weird that I was now traveling with one of the Blackwell brothers, he said nothing. Cleo and Callum were nice enough to let us use the jet for the return to New York.

We boarded and sat down. “If business keeps up, I might just have to buy me one of these bad boys.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

I grinned. “I can understand why people like you only fly private.”

He reached over and took my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. “You’re one of us now, remember? You’re a Blackwell. You’re one of us people.”

The words hit. Sank in and did something funny. I was a Blackwell. At least on paper. For now.

I pushed that thought away and focused on the fact that we were about to take off in a private jet with an actual bedroom. The engines hummed to life beneath us, and within minutes we were taxiing down the runway.

“So,” I said once we were airborne and sipping sparkling water with fresh blueberries. “You said you’re taking me somewhere special for dinner tonight.”

“I am. It’s very exclusive.”

“Tell me about this exclusive table you promised me. Is there a dress code?”

He smiled that secretive smile that told me he was up to something. “It’s a surprise.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Yes, you do.”

He was right, damn him. “Fine. Give me a hint.”

“No.”

“One tiny hint.”

“Absolutely not.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

He got up, moved to the couch, and patted the cushion beside him. “Come here.”

“I know that look and you are out of your mind.”

“Come here, Mandy.”

My stomach was immediately flooded with nerves and excitement.

I stood, and because I wasn’t about to put on a show for the flight attendant, I pulled the curtain. She was in the galley and would get the message. We were in need of some privacy.