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"I see." My voice came out soft.
"I know what I do is a lot for you to take in, but you're safe with me," he reminded me, touching my hand gently as if he realized how cold and frightening he came across when he talked about work.
He seemed like a psychopath.
But he also seemed so sweet with me…
"Even if I never wanted to see you again?"
"Even then." His lips parted in a smile. "But I think we both know that's not going to happen."
"If people see me with you...will I be in danger?"
"I have enemies, I admit. But I also have powerful friends." His fingers tangled with mine, and he stroked his thumb over the back of my hand in a way that was both sensual and comforting. "And I'll keep you safe. The thought of you out there in the world alone, with no one to look after you…I don’t like it.”
He said those last four words as if they were an understatement.
“Why? When you barely know me?”
“You seem so innocent.”
“It’s the head injury.” I said dryly
“Well. It might be the head injury, but it’s also a rarity in my world.”
“I thought you were going to take me to Paris, and then I was going to come home less innocent,” I teased him, my eyebrows arching.
“I’m not going to rush you,” he told me. “But I do have plans to take you to bed.”
Heat touched my cheeks, but he was already standing up. “Come on. Let me show you to the bedroom. They’re making dinner now, but then you can get some rest before we land. Tomorrow is a big day.”
“I don’t have a passport,” I said suddenly, stricken with horror. “I mean, I came here with just my purse—”
“You don’t need a passport,” he told me. “You have me. It’s all set.”
He showed me the bedroom tucked behind the cabin, which was sleek and beautiful, and then we had dinner. My head was spinning. There was so much to absorb.
But for now, I focused on the delicious, tender filet mignon and the lobster macaroni and cheese on my plate and the handsome, charming man sitting across from me, and I let myself worry later.
I might not feel in control of the wheel when I was with Greyson, but I was sure I was driving closer to answers about my past.
10
Ididn’t expect to sleep on a private jet to Paris with a highly questionable man in the next room, but I slept like a baby. It was surreal to wake up once at night and realize I was flying over the Atlantic ocean, snuggled under blankets and in crisp, clean scented sheets.
The next morning, I woke up with a bump and a jerk. I sat up with the feeling of movement shifting my stomach, and I knew we were taxiing across the tarmac in Paris.
I opened the door and found Greyson looking immaculate as always. Somehow. I had some wicked bedhead and a crease across one cheek from sleeping like the dead all night.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” He laid his tablet down and indicated the table, where there were two mugs–black coffee for him and chai for me.
“You definitely should’ve let me change,” I said, plucking at the t-shirt I was still wearing.
He shook his head. “No, that was perfect. You were wearing pajamas.”
“Do you even own pajamas?” I asked. “You always look perfect.”
He chuckled. “No, I don’t wear pajamas, Kennedy.”
