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The images she found showed the two men in casual enough situations. Despite the fact Mr. Moore and Mr. Alfonso never denied a relationship together, they didn’t confirm it either. But there was no mistaking that one of the grainy, slightly out of focus pictures she found was of Dietrich gripping Stellan’s throat while he kissed him.
Blythe had been surprised by how much she enjoyed the photo. Her arousal had been intense and immediate, but it wasn’t just the fact that two gorgeous men had been kissing. It was also the clear dominance in Dietrich’s grip.
Now she was headed to another country where none other than Stellan Alfonso worked. Would she see them touch each other or heaven help her… kiss?
Before she could really draw up the naughty images in her head, the black Mercedes she was currently in pulled onto the airstrip.
The private jet owned by Moore Corporation stood alone like some kind of beast. Her door was opened only moments later, and a man in livery smiled down at her.
“Miss Winters?” He held his hand out to her, and she took it. Offering him a smile in return, she let her gaze travel back to the monstrous piece of machinery before her. “Here, let me help you with your bags.”
Blythe pulled her attention back to the man and felt her face heat. How obvious was it that this was her first time flying on a private jet? She turned and saw him grab her bags from the trunk of the car. “I’m Walter, one of Mr. Moore’s personal flight attendants.”
He gestured with his chin toward the aircraft.
“Please follow me. The flight is just over seven hours long, but with the time change, it will feel more like twelve.” He gestured for her to take the stairs first that led up to the jet.
When she stepped inside, she took a moment to appreciate the interior. The cabin had six cream-colored reclining chairs, four to her right and two to the left. A large, flat screen television was built into one of the walls, and a door separated the cockpit and galley.
“So when should we arrive there?”
“Departure is at five p.m. sharp, so as long as everything goes smoothly and we don’t run into any inclement weather, we should arrive a bit after five a.m. Lisbon time. If you’ll have a seat, I’ll bring you a glass of champagne, if that is all right?”
She was technically on the clock and didn’t know how Mr. Moore would feel about alcohol consumption, so instead, she asked for a glass of water.
“I’ll bring it right away. Mr. Moore should be present shortly.”
Blythe took a seat by the window and set her purse on the empty seat beside her. Her view wasn’t anything spectacular, but the only other time she had been on a plane was when she had gone to see her father years ago.
That had been a dreaded, horrid trip of becoming reacquainted with a man that had skipped town when she was younger. Needless to say, she had written him out of her life and had never looked back nor got on any more planes, for that matter.
The sound of doors slamming shut drew her attention to her right, and she looked out the opposite windows. When she saw Dietrich striding toward the jet, his pewter colored suit looking sharp on his tall, muscular body, her mouth went dry.
Get it together, girl. This is your boss for the next four weeks.Do notfuck this up.
He entered the cabin, and his eyes found hers immediately. The scent of his cologne filled her nose, and she felt her traitorous body light up like a damn explosion. It was even worse when he took the seat across from her.
“I take it the drive to the airstrip was without incident?” He asked just as a young female flight attendant stepped beside him and smiled appreciatively.
“Good evening, Mr. Moore. I’m Sandra and will be filling in for Rebecca during your flight. May I start you off with a glass of champagne?” How had Blythe not seen her? Her little black outfit was ridiculously tight and about three inches too short. Her cleavage was up to her neck, and her lips were so swollen, most likely from Botox, that it made it look like she got in a fight with a vacuum and lost miserably.
Keeping his eyes on Blythe, he said, “I’ll take a scotch, neat.” When the flight attendant didn’t move, he looked at her pointedly and said, “That will be all.” She scurried off and, once again, his eyes were on Blythe. It was unnerving that just one look from him could make her feel completely bare. He cocked one of his dark eyebrows, and it was then she realized she hadn’t answered his question.
“Oh, um, yes. The drive was quite fine. It was only about a twenty-five-minute ride.” She offered a smile, but it fell when his face showed no expression.
“I’m glad it went well. I apologize that I kept you waiting, but I had a last minute conference call that I needed to take.”
“It’s fine, really.” She shifted in her seat when he shrugged off his jacket and started undoing his cufflinks then the first few buttons at his throat. Her gaze was transfixed at the sight of his tanned, muscular throat. It should be illegal for a man’s neck to look that good.
He pushed his sleeves up to show his thick, equally tanned forearms. Neck and forearms should not be so sexy, but damn, did Dietrich Moore make them look incredibly sexy.
Walter and Sandra brought their drinks and took their order for dinner. Moments later, the jet was taxiing then lifted into the air.
Blythe held on to the armrests as a bout of turbulence shook the plane. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes until she peeled them open after the jet evened out.
Dietrich’s steely gaze was trained on hers. He didn’t say anything as he brought his crystal cut glass to his lips and took a deep drink. Only after he set his cup back down did he speak.
“Do flights bother you, Miss Winters?”
