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“Malachi is a stickler for dress code for a first time.”
She nods and walks off, less than enthused with that response, and eventually goes into my cabin without a look back. Interesting that she isn’t concerned with who Malachi is, or even where she’s going with me. No real probes or pushes for answers. She just seems to be idling in the moment, perhaps trying to formulate her own mind in the fuck up that has become her life. I know the feeling well. This place we’re heading for helps. It gives merit to some stability, no matter how untrue or false it might be from life outside of it.
I drop the coat onto the bar and pick out my phone to send the text, letting him know we’ll be there soon. That’s all he needs from me. No secret handshakes or membership cards. No one even knows the place exists but the few he lets into the fold. That few is now running in the late hundreds, but they’re hundreds of people like me. The wealthiest of the wealthy. The ones who simply don’t care how much it costs to get the obsidian outlook you’re there for.
There isn’t a responding text. Nothing to confirm if he’s there or not. He will be, though. As will she. They always are. I close my eyes and imagine them chuckling together. They’ll have laughed at the thought of me coming back by now. Sent each other insidious little texts to amuse themselves with the thought of me and whether they can get me to fuck this time. They can’t. Nothing will. They keep trying, though. As if it’s a game for them. I suppose it is. No one else sits on the side-lines and watches without joining in. No one else has the will power to avoid their bedlam.
Only me.
“You’ll have to button me up,” she suddenly says.
I open my eyes and find her exposed back to me, her feet slipping into the shoes I’ve left on the floor for her. The sight makes me scan her body, taking in each trim line that glides beneath the long satin gown. Her hair’s up in some artful knot, the side profile of her face showing new makeup has been applied. Deep red lips smile, as she stands in the heels and rolls her neck, a small giggle coming from them for some reason.
“You look extravagant,” I whisper, walking over to her.
She twists her neck to look at me, the smile carrying on as I work the satin buttons at her lower spine. “You look dreary in comparison.” Both my brows shoot up at the retort.
“Dreary?”
“Yes. A dress like this deserves a tuxedo to escort it.”
It could be a fair point she makes.
I finish the buttons, taking care to keep my fingers away from her skin, and then let one drag the small indent of her collar bone rashly. She shivers and swings her gaze to me sharply, as if that one touch caused enough reaction to make my venue of choice irrelevant. She’s right. We could stay here and fuck instead. It would be easy. Passionate, no doubt. Sensual. Perhaps even hedonistic in its own right when we take the pills. But that’s not going to happen.
“I’ll change when I get there. Sit down. We’re about to land.”
She does, but with a brow arched in question. “Where are the crew? They haven’t told us to sit. And while I’m thinking about it, isn’t the pilot supposed to talk on a jet? They haven’t even been in here while you were back there.”
“The two crew are doing their jobs, which is to stay quiet unless they’re asked for. And the pilot is doing the same. Didn’t you eat or drink?”
“No. I was thinking.”
“About what?”
“You.”
I chuckle and lean my head back on the seat, closing my eyes for landing. “Try not to, Mrs Tanner. I’m not relevant other than bringing you here. I’m simply offering you some time out to re-evaluate your life.”
“Re-evaluate?”
“Hmm. Distraction can be therapeutic.”
Nothing else comes out of her after that. The plane simply lands in its own time, wheels touching down seamlessly, as she stares out of the window again. Flat features. The smile gone. It’s been replaced by the ceaseless gaze that seems to epitomise thought and consideration. I can’t even say she looks sad or despondent, more stoic. Apathetic. It’s a shame, the smile she wore minutes ago was charming, arousing.
“Sir?” one of the crew says. I keep staring at Hannah, fascinated by her indifference to the world around her or what’s happening in it while her life bounds in unknown directions. “Will you be here for one night only, or should we check into the accommodation?”
“How much distraction would you like, Mrs Tanner?” I ask.
She runs a finger along the window, chasing a small rivulet of water. “Endless,” she mumbles. “Limitless.”
I stand and button my jacket, watching as my pilot comes into the cabin, and pick up the fur coat. “You can all check in. I’ll call you when we want to leave.” I turn back to Hannah, holding my hand out for her “Are you ready?”
No answer, but she gets up and looks at my outstretched hand, head tilted at it. “Is this a date?”
“No.”
The word out of my mouth makes her walk listlessly passed me towards the cabin door, no interest in my hand or me. One of the crew starts opening it, smiling at Hannah as she picks up the side of her dress to keep the satin from the floor. I follow and slip the coat onto her shoulders, getting her ready for the frigid blast of air that’s coming. She looks at me, the same stoic gaze taking me in, as I smooth the coat into place.
