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“Why are you taking it away?”
“Journalists will start bugging you.”
The rest of the way is spent in silence as Jonathan holds my hand in his lap, still stroking my skin.
If it weren’t for my loud thoughts that don’t seem like they’ll be cooling down anytime soon, I would’ve fallen asleep on his lap like I usually do when we’re in a long car ride.
We arrive at a secluded landing area of an airport and a plane waits for us. When we come out, Jonathan places a hand on the small of my back and leads me to it. Moses carries bags, which I didn’t know were already packed and loaded, from the car.
The flight attendant, a redhead with a blinding smile, welcomes us in. Jonathan doesn’t release me until we’re inside, and that’s only because the entryway doesn’t fit two people at the same time.
The luxury is clear in the furnishings, from the dark ceiling and flooring to the light caramel plush seats that appear custom-made.
The only flights I’ve ever taken were from Leeds to Glasgow, then from Glasgow to London. And those were the lowest classes available. I have no idea what first-class looks like, but something tells me this is a step further.
It isn’t until we’re completely inside that I notice no one but us is here.
“Did you book the entire flight?” I ask Jonathan.
“Didn’t need to. This is my private jet.”
Right. Not that it should be a surprise that Jonathan has his own jet. He travels around the world a lot. Or that’s what he did before I came along, as Harris likes to remind me in his snobbish tone.
He lets me sit by the window as if he remembers when I told him that I’d never left the UK. I’ve never had the chance to look out from a window seat and have always wondered what it would feel like.
Jonathan fastens my seatbelt, then does his own as a suave male voice fills the space.
“Welcome aboard, Mr King and Miss Harper. We’ll be taking off in a few minutes, so please fasten your seatbelts. We will reach our destination in approximately thirteen hours. I wish you a comfortable flight.”
The voice disappears and I’m about to ask Jonathan where we’re going, considering the time we’ll have to spend on the plane. Before I can open my mouth, the flight attendant reappears and nods when she makes sure the seatbelts are in place.
“Can I get you water? A drink?” She focuses on Jonathan and her smile widens as her voice drops. “Anything?”
I narrow my eyes at her as she blatantly flirts with Jonathan. Is she one of his ex-fuck buddies? There could be no other explanation for the way she openly flirts.
/> The idea of Jonathan touching her in the same way he touches me, kissing her, or even talking to her like he does to me turns my blood hot, then cold.
“We’re good,” I say, glad I don’t snap.
She’s still focused on Jonathan as if my words don’t matter and I want to claw her eyes out.
It’s only when Jonathan dismisses her with a finger that she leaves, but she does so with a deliberate sway of her hips.
“I didn’t know redheads were your type,” I say before I get the chance to measure my words.
“They aren’t.”
“Well, you obviously had a thing with her.”
“Her?” he repeats, slight amusement shining in his eyes.
“The flight attendant.”
“I haven’t.”
“Are you telling me women just flirt with you?”
“They do. Doesn’t mean I pay them any of my attention.”
