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Chapter 12
ERIN
Apparently, those with private planes, even in public airports, weren’t bothered by security measures. We were whisked through the airport and across the concourse to our gate—a private gate at the end of the terminal. And then we were ushered down a flight of steps to the tarmac.
Henryk had said he had a private plane. I couldn’t say exactly what I’d pictured, probably something out of the movie Pearl Harbor, massive and clunky. But whatever I’d been thinking, it was nothing like what was waiting for us.
A jet by any other name was a jet, but this thing was sleek and shiny. It looked more like a giant needle with wings. It had a row of windows down the side extending from the stairs waiting for us and past the wings to the tail fin. And no, I didn’t know if that was its official name, but that was what I was calling it.
The plane was like the castle but with wings. Opulent and lush. There was carpet and gold plating.Gold plating. A rim of it around the windows, at the edge of the tables, along the top of a drink cart that had gold trimmed decanters full of what could only be top-notch and very foreign alcohol.
In the whole flying tube of greatness, there wasn’t a single nick. Not in the plastic or the wood or even the drink cart that appeared affixed to absolutely nothing.
The act of walking on this plane was, in itself, aholy crapmoment. Even the stairs were carpeted and they belonged to the airport, which meant that the Lichtenstein royal family had some serious pull.
I lifted my head, acting regal because the moment demanded it. Also because it was easier to catch my breath without all the slouching and slumping my normal posture demanded.
After a quick glance around, noting more gold accents—gold seatbelts, for heaven’s sake—I took the window seat near the middle. I thought that since there was a chair next to me and two facing mine, it left room to sit together.
“Nice place you got here, fancy pants,” Viktor said, a smirk in his voice but not on his face.
“You would rather fly Atlantic Coach?” Henryk cocked an eyebrow and it was adorable. Of course, at this point, I hadn’t seen much about him that wasn’t adorable.
Viktor ignored him and Henryk wasn’t having it.
He went on, “Pretend it’s a trailer straight from the court you live in. You’ll be fine.”
Uh-oh. Some of Henryk’s sparkly princely charm was in danger now. Viktor looked like he was one word away from knocking it off him.
But Viktor didn’t hit him, instead he took the seat next to mine rather than one across from me. Henryk’s scowl immediately deepened, and Viktor smiled for the first time.
Oh, yeah. This isn’t uncomfortable. At all.
Silas sat across from Viktor and me, so Henryk sat on the opposite side of the plane, which just felt strange. And even though he tried to hide behind the screen of his laptop, I could see him. I watched him pretend like he wasn’t watching me. And I liked the feeling of it, the awareness that sizzled between us.
But with my attention on Henryk, I was ignoring Viktor and Silas. I didn’t want that either, so I focused back on my American boys. “So, construction? HGTV happen to you or did you two happen to it?”
Silas chuckled. “I like a witty girl.”
I wagged my eyebrows at him. “You found one.” I liked to think so anyway.
“It’s about building something from nothing. From seeing the finished product and knowing we did it.” Viktor smiled and looked at me with such pride in his eyes, an answering tug of pride occurred in me.
“Unless it’s restoring something to its former glory,” Viktor added. “That’s pretty spectacular too.”
“They’re like Laurel and Hardy.” The comment came from across the aisle. I liked that Henryk was trying to be a part of the conversation, but I didn’t know the reference and Viktor’s raised eyebrows said he didn’t either.
Silas frowned. “Is that a jab, pretty boy?”
Ray chuckled from where he sat across from Henryk. I looked around Viktor to raise an eyebrow at him. Ray wiped the smile from his face and held up the obligatory hand of silent apology.
“Who the hell are Laurel and Hardy?” I asked. At least we could safely assume they were people. Henryk wouldn’t have the audacity to compare Viktor and Silas to horses or something, would he?
“They’re a comedy team,” Henryk explained.
“Were we being funny?” Silas asked, his eyebrows pulling together.
He’d been talking about a subject he felt passionate about. Being compared to a comedy team wasn’t endearing.
