Page 30 of His Innocent Seduction

‘Hi, yourself.’ I look around, forcing myself to rip my eyes from his face even when I want to devour him. ‘So this is how the other half lives, huh?’

When I look back at him, he’s still staring at me and with an intensity that nearly drops me to my knees. Then he smiles and my heart stutters. I smile back. How can I not?

‘You ready?’

Am I? I nod, even when I feel like I’m somehow agreeing to give away a piece of my soul. It’s nothing so melodramatic though. It’s a weekend away—nothing ordinary people don’t do all the time. Nothing I shouldn’t have done by now. But, strangely enough, standing there with him in this ‘airport’, I’m so conscious of all the things I still haven’t done. I feel completely out of my league.

But then he reaches down and takes my hand, lifting it to his lips, and doubts drop out of my mind, leaving only anticipation and warmth. ‘So let’s go then.’

He pulls me towards the official-looking person. ‘Passport?’

‘Oh, yeah.’ I reach into my handbag and pull it out.

He takes it from me, flicks through it and shakes his head. ‘There’s a regrettable lack of stamps in here, Millie.’

He’s right. There’s two. Singapore, where I spent two nights on my way over, and Dublin.

‘I’m planning to address that, remember?’

He hands our passports to the guard, who studies them for a moment, nods, then passes them back. That’s it? Passport control done and dusted.

‘I guess your passport’s almost filled?’

He hands both to me and I flick through his as I walk, the balmy air surrounding us. So many stamps, so many stories. ‘Where’s your favourite place?’

He regards me thoughtfully. ‘I love Budapest.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘Hard to explain unless you’ve been there. The Greek islands. The Riviera.’

I find his stamp into Australia and rub my fingertip over it.

‘Mind your step.’ I blink up from the passport to see we’ve reached a set of metallic stairs. I put a hand on the railing instinctively and then look up. The jet is enormous, all pale cream. I can’t see any airline branding.

I pass his passport back and move up the stairs, keeping mine ready to show a hostess. Presuming he has a ticket, I wait at the top, but Michael just smiles and gestures for me to step inside.

There’s no hostess. Nor is there anything even vaguely reminiscent of what I think of as an airplane.

‘This is a private jet?’

He nods.

‘As in, you own an airplane?’

He nods again, gesturing to a seat.

I roll my eyes heavenward. ‘I don’t want to sit down. Not yet. Can I have a look around?’

I’ve apparently surprised him, but he grins, placing his satchel bag on a seat and taking my hand in his again. ‘Sure. I’ll give you the guided tour.’

‘I mean, I’m sure the women you usually date are way more sophisticated and used to this kind of thing but... This isn’t...normal.’

He laughs. ‘Believe me, I know that.’ The main cabin has sofas rather than individual seats. Two, that run the length of the room we’re in, facing inwards. We walk deeper into the plane. There’s a partition and then a dining room or conference room on one side of the plane and a type of cinema room on the other, with four armchairs, all of which look like they’d probably recline fully. Maybe that’s where you’d sleep?

No.

The next room we step into is a bedroom and I am almost breathless, firstly at the luxury and secondly at the fact I’m looking at an enormous bed while standing beside the man I days ago lost my virginity to.

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