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I cast my eyes over her body once more before they meet hers again.
No way is she scared of me, but I think she knows that I know her little secret already.
Should I point that out to her? Nah.
It’s gonna be way more fun just seeing how long she can keep up this charade.
And it’ll give me precious time with her.
My weekend, my reason for existing suddenly looks a lot more interesting now that I’ve met….
Whoever the hell she really is, she’s not going anywhere.
She’ll be mine before the weekends out.
CHAPTER THREE
Chloe
Normal, every day, Chloe would fess up. She’d tell the truth.
But the real truth is, between the rock star treatment and feasting my eyes on the world’s biggest hunk in a magazine for a full two hours? It’s just easier for me to keep up the act. Play along.
Nobody’s said anything so far, so what real harm is there?
I can see at least a dozen first-class seats empty by the time we touch down, and it’s time to get off the plane anyway.
“We hope you enjoyed your flight, Ms. De Laurent…,” A chorus of stewardesses chime as I make my way to the exit.
They are all straining to look happy if I decide to make a complaint by the looks of things.
I’m the first person off the plane, but my stomach drops when I see a well-built man in a suit and dark glasses approaching me.
Official looking.
I knew it. I just knew it.
He seems to know what he wants long before I even have the courage to look at him twice.
“Ms. De Laurent? Oh, Ms. De Laurent,” he says again, firmer and with authority.
This was all too good to be true. I guess it’s time to confess and pay for the first-class flight….
“Ms. De Laurent,” the man says again, smiling as he’s within grabbing distance from me. “Right this way, your car is waiting. We wouldn’t want you to be late,” he adds, and it dawns on me for the millionth time.
I’m the only one who knows I’m not the real Ms. De Laurent.
So far, anyway.
Everyone else is going by their schedule and a seat or flight number as if I really am her.
I’m assuming the limo driver was told that the first face he’d see off the flight was his passenger.
Plus, I’m in so deep now I can’t help but feel more than just a mild stab of curiosity.
Who is this De Laurent woman anyway? And where is she going that’s so important?
There’s only one way to find out.
“Sorry,” I murmur, forcing a more relaxed smile.
“I wasn’t expecting to be met right off the plane,” I add, but my driver’s already ushering me ahead of him, asking if I have any luggage to collect.
“Uh…No,” I tell him swiftly. “Just me and this,” I remark, holding my carry-on bag up higher so he can see it.
The last thing I need is to add criminal theft charges to fraud by helping myself to any luggage in this woman’s name.
Bad enough, I’m passing myself off as her, whoever she is and whatever it is she isn’t supposed to be late for.
Once I have been ushered through a private exit, the interior of a limo is also new to me. I’m already missing my first class mini-suite from the airplane.
It’s hot out, and the limo is cooler.
But nothing’s cooler than having first-class mostly all to yourself for a few hours.
When this dream’s over, I know it’s gonna be hard to let go of all this shiny, gleaming metal and fresh leather smell.
Having people sound like they actually respect me for a change, too.
Even if it’s just their job, it’s still nice to have someone be super polite to you. Not something I got much of at college, that’s for sure.
Not a lot of time to think about my recent past, though. We’re off the freeway and pulling up to a new hotel complex faster than I would’ve liked.
A ten-minute bus ride in a bad neighborhood can feel like a lifetime.
But even just a half-hour in this luxury ride will never feel long enough.
I spot the building long before we reach it. It really is just like the magazine pictures.
“Almost finished…,” my driver muses aloud, sharing my thoughts exactly as I notice the boom arm of a structural crane, the only thing telling me the hotel is not quite a hundred percent finished yet.
I shift my gaze to agree with the driver, but he’s moved his eyes back to the road and looks a little sheepish all of a sudden.
Like he’s just reminded himself of the company he’s in – telling himself to drive, no small talk.
Even though I almost forgot he was even there for most of the way, he has that same expression the staff on the plane had by the time we pulled up out front.
