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“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t know why this affects me so much. It’s not like I still have feelings for him. But I feel betrayed and replaceable. Even a little worthless.”
“You, Brooke Derringer, are worth everything. If someone else doesn’t recognize your worth, that doesn’t mean it’s not there. It just means they don’t see it.”
Jace put a hand on my upper back, rubbing it gently up and down. The comforting gesture turned sensual when he flashed me his killer smile, looking at my mouth.
The tension was broken when Jace said, “We should get in line.”
I felt marginally better when I stepped inside the plane, and my mood improved even more when I noticed there was no one sitting next to me. I got two first-class seats all to myself. I felt like royalty, and as soon as the seat belt sign was deactivated once we were in the air, I toed off my shoes and stretched my legs on the other seat. Several minutes later, the flight attendant brought me a glass of champagne, even though they hadn’t even started to serve drinks.
“I didn’t order this,” I said in amazement.
“One of your flight companions did.”
I didn’t have to look up from my drink to know who that was, but I raised my gaze anyway. Jace was sitting one row in front, on the opposite side of the aisle. He winked at me, and I returned to sipping my champagne, suddenly a little out of breath. My drink did wonders for my state of mind. Turned out there was internet on the flight, so I whisked out my laptop, deciding to use the few hours on the flight to get ahead of the day. I wouldn’t get much work done once we reached the studios.
My inbox was like Sisyphus’s task. No matter how fast I went through my emails, there were always new ones coming in. I’d just pressed send to an email to a longtime sponsor when the count of unread messages moved from forty-three to forty-four.
I typically only eyed the subject of the newest emails, to check if something was urgent... with one exception: Jace.
I opened his email so fast, I nearly broke a nail.
Jace: You look smoking hot today. I can’t stop picturing you naked.
Holy shit, was he serious? He couldn’t write that to me. On my work email, nonetheless. To make my point, I simply replied with his name, followed by a dozen exclamation marks.
Before I even had a chance to move to another email thread, the unread count went up. He’d replied.
Jace: I have a direct view of those gorgeous legs. You can’t fault me for thinking about how fucking sexy you were with them wrapped around me.
A wave of heat crushed into me, making me aware of a deep humming in my body. I didn’t take my legs down. If Jace couldn’t keep his thoughts straight, that was his problem. Actually, I planned to tease him like it was my job. Yep. That was my revenge plan. Why did he have to go and send that email? Now all I could think about was the way he’d made me feel that morning.
I spent the next few hours hiding behind my laptop and ignoring the new unread email from him, even though curiosity gnawed at me.
Once the plane landed at JFK, I took my sweet time gathering my things, waiting for the boys to leave the plane. I was betting that Jace was staying behind too. One stolen glance at his seat confirmed my theory.
After all business class passengers had left the plane, I stood up. Jace was already on his feet, his jaw set.
He retrieved my bag from the overhead bin before gesturing for me to walk in front of him. I felt him right behind me as I walked out of the plane and onto the tunnel connecting us to the airport.
“You can’t ignore my emails,” Jace said into my ear.
“You can’t send me that kind of email,” I shot back.
“I don’t remember anything in our agreement about not dirty writing to you.”
I half turned, glaring at him. “I’m adding that now.”
Jace took in my glare before grinning. “You can’t change the agreement, Brooke.”
***
“Nothing quite like the Empire State Building,” I whispered to myself while sipping my coffee, watching out the window. This was the first break in four hours. It was only going to last five minutes. I’d interned here during a summer, and the second I’d entered the building, I’d been transported to those days.
I wished I could tell my younger self not to fret so much, that things would work out. On the other hand, I suspected that the uncertainty had been exactly what had driven me so hard.
The boys had one-on-one interviews with Edith, one of the top in-house journalists. After finishing my coffee, I strutted right back into the interview area. It was a comfortable and informal setup. Edith sat on a couch with each of the boys, a recorder between them. I had stood by silently during each interview, speaking up only if Edith asked something inappropriate. She could be pushy.
