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“Let me off this plane right now.” She seethed. “Right the hell now.”
“We’re good to go, Captain Bryan.” I smiled and signaled to my pilot. “Please prepare for takeoff…”
ELEVEN
PRESENT DAY
TATIANA
Amended Correction Per Miss Brave:
Miss Brave is NOT willing to engage in sexual activity with Mr. Carter.
(This is quite unfortunate because it’s clear that whoever she’s been with over the past few years hasn’t been getting the job done.)
Mr. Carter IS willing to engage in sexual activity with Miss Brave (at any time) over the next ninety days whenever she wantsit.
TWELVE
PRESENT DAY
TATIANA
Las Vegas, Nevada
Sin City seduced me into its world at sunset, mesmerizing my eyes with mile after mile of bright flashing lights.
As we descended, “The Punisher” eyed me from the billboards that guarded the highway, tossed a cocky grin my way from the outdoor digital screens, and welcomed me with a smirk from the “Don’t Ever Bet Against Me” murals that stood all over the city.
A black binder lay open in my lap, its pages filled with “Facts About Mr. Carter” that I already knew. Under a yellow-tabbed section labeled “Memorize by Wednesday” was a novelized version of our relationship that read like a sugary sweet romance.
In this alternate love story, Travis was “instantly smitten” after our first encounter at a horse ranch years ago. He was a “complete gentleman,” who wasn’t quite ready to give me “the love he knew I deserved,” so he focused on his fighting career and vowed to find and pursue me later.
As fate would have it, we crossed paths on one random August day when my car broke down on the side of the road. After kindly requesting my phone number, he asked me out on a date. Then he wined and dined me across the country.
It was only a matter of weeks before he confessed his undying love under the stars in Italy.
Who the hell wrote this?
I shut the binder and leaned against the leather seat.
Travis was staring intently at a chess board, his eyes focused on the rook Mr. Ralph had moved.
I’d tried my best to avoid looking at him during the flight, but I couldn’t help stealing glances here and there.
Dressed in a black suit with the top three buttons of his shirt undone, he looked like walking sex. As if he knew how much I was struggling to ignore his presence, his lips parted each time our eyes met, and he motioned for me to come sit in his lap.
Every nerve in my body was on edge, begging for space.
The plane’s wheels kissed the ground, and I downed a cold glass of water.
Be professional, Tati. Keep it professional.
“That was a pretty smooth flight, right?” Mr. Ralph moved to the seat across from me. Then he handed me a shiny blue gift bag.
“There’s a gift card from every luxury shop on The Strip in there,” he said, “along with a list of highly recommended attractions, if you ever want to do some sightseeing outside of your scheduled publicity events.”
“Thank you, sir.”
