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“Must I remind you that this was your idea? The least you could’ve done was stick up for me. Not just sit there like a wet rag.” She stood and angrily stepped out of the limo before I could stop her, heading in the opposite direction of the plane.
Shit.
With a sigh, I hurried after her, my dress shoes slapping on the ground. “Scarlett, wait!” I called out. But when she didn’t so much as pause, I picked up the pace to a jog until I got close enough to reach out and clasp the back of her arm. “Please, hang on.”
She spun around. “That was so uncomfortable and embarrassing, and you just left me hanging. If we’re supposed to bedating,” she said, exaggerating the word, “that’s not what couples do. You should’ve stuck up for me.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“You’re right.” I pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes closed. “You’re absolutely right,” I said before I dropped my hand. “I guess I just . . . figured you could handle yourself.”
“I can handle myself,” she said, taking a step toward me, her mouth an angry line. “But sometimes it’s nice to have a little help.”
“What are you going to do when it’s the media or the paparazzi asking you those questions?” I asked, mostly because she made me feel like a piece of crap. “If you can’t handle it here and now,” I said, pointing to the ground at my feet, “you most certainly won’t be able to handle it in front of a camera when the whole nation is listening.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
She stepped closer until she was right in front of my face, so close I could reach out and pull her in for a kiss.
My eyes flickered to her mouth—soft and red like a fire engine—and I wanted to yank her to me and press her lips to mine.
“So help me, Thorne, if you kiss me, I’ll deck you.”
My gaze cut to her dark and stormy eyes just before she roughly brushed past me, knocking into my shoulder as she went.
Chapter 18
THORNE
Thesilenceontheairplane was stifling. Instead of enjoying her first time on a private jet, basking in the luxury, Scarlett sat in her plush leather recliner, arms crossed, staring out the window beside her like she’d rather be anywhere in the world. It was just like her to be too stubborn to let her anger go for one evening and enjoy herself.
I shook my leg and took a sip of the coffee the attendant had brought me before take-off. It wasn’t what I wanted. What I really wanted was something stronger, but something about Scarlett made me want to do the right thing, and so I took another sip of the bitter brew before I set it back down on the table beside me. With my heart already racing and my nerves on edge, the last thing I needed was caffeine.
My gaze flickered to my mother lounging back in her seat at the front of the plane, earbuds in, a sleep mask on her lap, sipping bubbly from a champagne flute while the rest of the bottle sat on ice.
At least somebody was enjoying themselves, I mused. I made a mental note to thank her for rocking the boat, then leaving me to drown in it.
With a grunt of frustration, I tugged a hand through my hair and moved into the seat beside Scarlett. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Can we at least . . . enjoy the jet?” I asked. “I paid a lot of money so we could fly private.”
The moment her head turned and she hit me with a scathing look, I knew it was the wrong choice of words. Which was dumb on my part, considering I couldn’t care less about the money.
“I don’t care how much money it cost. In case I haven’t made myself abundantly clear to you or to your mother,” she said, eyes flickering toward her. “I don’t care about any of life’s luxuries you can offer me. I asked for your legal team; that was it. You can have your private planes and your massive hotel suite at The Breakers or your Fisker. I don’t care about any of it. Even the gown, no matter how incredible. Are we clear”?
“Crystal,” I said, brooding even though I had zero right to be angry.
“Good.” She turned and resumed staring out the window.
I felt my temperature rise. The muscle in my jaw ticked as I stared at the side of her face—the subtle slope of her nose, the sharp curve of her jaw—and for some reason, I couldn’t let it go.
“You know, most chicks would die at the chance to attend an event like this with me. Do you even know how lucky you are?” I asked, knowing I was an idiot for doing so.
I didn’t want her to be angry, but instead of trying to make it up to her, I turned it around on her because being angry was a whole hell of a lot easier than being sorry. And besides, it wasn’t like I had a lifetime of genuine relationships to pull from.
Welcome to being an asshole.
A choking sound came from the back of her throat as she turned back to me. “Let’s get one thing straight, Roberts. Despite what you so obviously think about yourself, you’re not special simply because you grace my television screen. And, okay, maybe the gown wowed me for a second,” she said, motioning to her dress, “but I am going with you to this event for one reason, and one reason only. To facilitate our charade, and that is all. You got me?”
I arched my brow. “So if I asked you out for real, you would say no?”
