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The pilot nodded. “Just spoke to him. Plane is gassed up and ready to go as soon as we arrive.”
My stomach tightened with tension, my head spinning at the idea of taking a private plane to a private island, flying thousands of miles from everything I’d ever known.
Luckily, or not so luckily, as the case might’ve been, Dad was there to make sure I stayed on task.
“Come on.” He jerked my arm again, this time harder than usual.
We made our way over to the helicopter, the pilot helping the guard load my bags into the back after guiding us inside. Once more, I was scared and excited all at once. Never before had I been in a helicopter.
The pilot started the engine and we were soon up and on our way. I kept my gaze focused out the window, trying to ignore Dad next to me as the city grew smaller and smaller below. The view was amazing, like looking down at a living map. I could make out the shape of Manhattan, the island packed full of buildings, the huge rectangle of Central Park plopped right in the middle. It wasn’t long before Brooklyn and Queens were visible in their entirety too, stretching all the way down Long Island.
We headed northwest toward New Jersey. The flight hardly took any time at all—it seemed like the instant we hit our peak we were already on the way back down, descending upon a tiny, private airfield.
We landed and the pilot helped me out, Dad not even bothering to ask how the flight agreed with me. I felt dizzy and disoriented once back on solid ground, still trying to wrap myhead around how just a few minutes ago I’d been as high up in the sky as a bird in flight.
A sight off in the middle distance immediately took my mind away from that thought. I spotted a tall man in a white shirt and sunglasses leaning against a sleek, dark blue sports car.Not too far away sat a private jet.
“Is that him?” The words came out of my mouth in a whisper, barely audible over the whirring of the helicopter blades.
Dad smiled, waving in the direction of the man, who offered a slight, barely perceptible nod in response, his face impassive.
“That’s him. Now, I’m going to tell you this, and I’m only going to say it once—you’d better be on your best goddamn behavior. God knows how much I’ve spent over the years shaping you into something presentable. If you embarrass me in front of Stone…” He trailed off, leaving me to imagine whatever threat he might have in mind.
We drew closer to the man, and I was able to make out more of him. The first thing I noticed was that he easily stood close to six and a half feet tall. He was dressed in a crisp, white button-up shirt, his sleeves rolled up and cuffed around thick, ropey forearms. Navy slacks and a pair of black loafers completed the look. Everything on his body appeared designed just for him and fit perfectly.
Not only was he tall, but he was also built, his shoulders broad and round, his chest massive, and his hands big enough to start me wondering what they might feel like on my bare skin. I found myself, to my surprise, growing more and more aroused, a tension forming between my legs that I hadn’t felt in… God, I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d felt such a way. One thing was for sure, he was sexier than any man I’d ever seen.
The man unfolded his arms. My eyes darted over his features, noting his square, strong jaw, cleft chin, slender nose, and thick, light brown hair with just enough salt and pepper to beinteresting. I couldn’t quite pinpoint his age, since it appeared he was prematurely greying. I guessed somewhere in his late thirties, a good amount older than myself.
“Mr. Stone!” Dad took on a strange, obsequious posture and tone, as if he were afraid of the man. As he stuck out his hand toward the stranger, I could sense the man’s attention was all on me.
I was dressed simply, wearing a dark pink maxi dress and matching heels. The way the man’s lips curled into a small smile at the sight of me made me think he was more than happy with what he was seeing, despite the modest nature of the dress.
“As you can see, Mr. Stone,” Dad said, sweeping his hand in my direction. “Here she is, just as promised.”
The man didn’t say a word to Dad, instead stepping closer to me. He was sobig—tall and muscular, everything about him imposing and more than a little intimidating. The man paused a few feet from me, taking one more look up and down my body.
It was strange. Normally, the idea of a man ogling me in that way would’ve offended, maybe even made me sick to my stomach. But with him, it was different. Ilikedthe way he looked at me. In fact, I found myself wishing I’d worn something other than the modest dress I happened to have on.
“Mr. Stone,” Dad said. “This is—”
He didn’t get a chance to finish before the man reached forward and took my hand, which was raised in preparation for a shake.
“Pleasure to meet you.” His voice was low and deep, commanding without trying. He turned my hand over and leaned forward, placing his lips onto the back of it. A shiver ran through me, the intensity of it making me a bit dizzy. “My name is Logan Stone.”
He let my hand go, and I dumbly kept it in the air.
“Emily!” Dad said my name in a hiss. Out of the corner of my eye, I could make out the expression of tight anger on his face. “Don’t just stand there—introduce yourself!”
I cleared my throat and composed myself.
“Emily Marone,” I said. “A pleasure, Mr. Stone.”
Logan nodded and offered a small smile before reaching toward the bag I carried.
“Allow me.”
“No!”
