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“We’re not late,” Gabriel says smoothly, always ready to soothe nerves and make people feel at ease. “This is our commissioned jet, we can leave whenever we want, petite oiseau doux.”

“Stop calling me that,” Maeve groans as she sits down. Her gaze darts around the space, and although she covers it well, she looks a bit intimidated as she takes in the large comfy chairs, the luxurious interior, and the fact that it’s just us on board.

The flight attendant comes out to speak with us and give us the safety talk, which is a little different given that we’re the only passengers on board. She points out where the flotation devices are in case of a water landing, reminds us to put our oxygen masks on for ourselves first before putting one on someone else’s, and to exit calmly through the doors if necessary.

Maeve listens to it all attentively, then thanks her when she’s finished. Fucking hell, sometimes I can’t believe how sweet and thoughtful this woman is. It seems almost impossible to me that people like Maeve actually exist. I almost snark at her, Can’t you be cranky like the rest of us? I keep it to myself, though. Ford will give me hell if I start shit right now.

As the pilot starts the final checks before we take off, the flight attendant steps up to take our orders so she can get the food from the chef.

Maeve’s eyes widen as she’s handed the menu. “This looks like a restaurant menu.”

“It is,” the flight attendant says, smiling. “We provide the chef with your order and he cooks it in the kitchen and delivers it to us before takeoff. We then keep it warm, so that when we reach ten thousand feet, we can serve it to you.”

Maeve looks back at the extensive menu. “Oh, wow,” she says softly.

Gabriel orders his usual, taking forever to pick a wine pairing, and I give him a little shit for being stereotypically French. Ford decides on the filet mignon, which sounds good, but I get the steak with the mushroom sauce and side of mashed potatoes. The mushroom sauce Chef Paul makes is truly to die for.

When the flight attendant circles back to Maeve, she still looks nervous. “There are just so many fun options,” she admits. “I’m not sure which to choose.”

“Just get one of everything,” I say, my patience gone.

Her head shoots up. “What?”

I take a pen from my jacket and hand it to her. “Mark everything you want.” I look at the flight attendant. “Tasting portions of each. Cost is not a factor.” I peel several large bills from my money clip, handing half to her and indicating that the rest is for the chef. “For the trouble.”

Maeve is blushing furiously again. “You really didn’t have to do that,” she hisses.

“Of course I did,” I say, settling back into my seat and meeting her wide, startled eyes. “How else were we going to get off the ground?”

Maybe that’s not the only reason I did it. But it’s the only reason I’m willing to admit to.

12

MAEVE

After the flight attendant takes my ridiculously long order with an unshakeable smile, she leaves and the plane settles into a quiet hum of immense, understated power.

I’ve flown before, although not in a while, and always commercial on the cheapest seats I could find. This isn’t flying; this is occupying a different reality. But I’ve seen glimpses of the sort of menus they offer business and first-class passengers, and it’s nothing like this. There, you get a choice. You get a couple of options for each course, like a meat, a fish, and a veggie, and there’s a variety of snacks and drinks.

This is different. This is a full menu, with so many options it made my head swim, and no prices that I could find. I’m guessing it’s because if you’ve hired a private jet, you don’t care about the food prices, or the pricing is included in the package.

The flight attendant doesn’t argue or even look annoyed when Hayden insists I just get to have one of everything. She just smiles and nods, like she gets crazier requests all the time, and then she takes my menu and promises me I’ll enjoy everything, and heads out.

Our surroundings are so luxurious. Even the chair I’m sitting in feels like a wonderfully comfortable massage chair. There are settings on the side so I can fully recline it out into a bed if I want, and in the compartment above me there are headphones, a pillow and an incredibly soft cashmere blanket, an eye mask, and earplugs. There’s a cupboard filled with snacks and drinks, and a flat projector screen that comes down so you can watch movies or television as well as my own personal screen for if I just want to watch something for myself with headphones on.

It’s not just that everything around me is so luxurious. It’s that everything is stunningly beautiful. There’s a wet bar that’s built out of real mahogany, and the bathroom is done up in black marble veined with gold. It’s a beautiful plane to be in. It reminds me of the old movies and TV shows in the 1960s when plane travel was a luxury and new and special.

While we wait for our turn to take off, I walk around the plane and take everything in. Gabriel is flipping through a fashion magazine, making notes on some pages with an expensive-looking fountain pen. He seems to be shopping for some kind of new watch. The ones he’s looking at are gorgeous, one in the shape of a snake and another with a miniature model of the solar system on it, not just timepieces but pieces of art. I can’t even imagine how much they must cost.

Hayden, now that my food is taken care of, is ignoring me and tapping away on his phone.

Oddly, though, Ford is just staring out the window, his hands gripping his arm rests, his knuckles stark white against the supple leather.

I’ve never seen Ford be anything except calm and cool. Even when he’s irritated with someone being an idiot, he’s sharp and clinical about it. He doesn’t ever yell, doesn’t pace, nothing. It’s like people and emotions simply aren’t worth his time. Which is why the rigid set of his jaw and the tension radiating from his shoulders is so jarring.

“Not looking forward to going home?” I ask, keeping my tone casual.

It would be nice to know I’m not alone in my nerves, but I suppose if even Ford is nervous about this, that just makes it worse.