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“Ah. Right. Cool.”
His response is short, sharp, and to the point. No fucking around.
What is even going on?
I’m getting a bad feeling from all of this, but it’s too late to back out now. Why did I allow myself to get tangled up in this mess? I can’t exactly jump out of a moving vehicle, so I’m pretty much stuck in this weird gangster movie I’ve somehow ended up in.
“I’ve kind of ruined your solo trip, haven’t I?” I mutter to the man.
I tend to babble on when I’m nervous and losing my freaking mind. It’s the downfall of being such a people pleaser.
“I do everything that Damon says,” Jim replies, just as cold as his last answer.
Yeah. Definitely not a talker, this guy.
Jim is just like the meathead security brute at the office. Does Damon only hire men who can’t string a sentence together?
“You do everything Damon Penmayne says?” I ask. “Likeeverythingeverything? What’s that like, I wonder? He must be a pretty powerful guy.”
That gets a tiny chuckle from the man. “You have no idea,” Jim answers.
And we fall back into uncomfortable silence all the way to the airport.
I don’t like silences. And I don’t like weird men who would do anything for a man who might be a cousin of Satan.
Damon told me, back in his office, that this trip back home on his plane isjusta gift. Nothing more. He said it in such a way that he made it seem like flying on a private jet across the country was like getting two candy bars for the price of one.Free of charge, that’s how he put it. Well, I don’t want to be in debt to such a dangerous man, even if my dad is, but Damon insisted this isn’t like that at all.
But I still don’t know.
Why would he do this if I’ve said no to his mistress proposal? Does he think I’ll suddenly flip my mind and go all gooey-eyed at his offer now that he’s flashing his wealth and material power toward me?
Well,that ain’t how I do things, mister. I’m not that kind of girl.
We soon arrive at the airport, and now I can truly believe that what Damon was saying was real. There is his private jet waiting for us, all fired up and ready to go.
It’s probably been the only truthful thing he ever said to me in his office.
This is next-level crazy.
We’re taken up into the plane. Jim walks casually across the tarmac and through the doors inside the jet as if he rides private all the damn time. I, however, feel like a kid on Christmas morning, although I am doing my best to hide it. I am still on a gangster’s plane, after all.
A gangster whose offer I just rejected...
I can’t help thinking of all those mafia movies I’ve seen. Am I gonna get whacked on here?
The inside certainly doesn’tlooklike a plane that a gangster would own in one of those movies. It’s all plush leather seats and indulgence and soft lights. Coffee tables and TV screens.
It’s all so very nice.
As I take a seat, the hostess onboard offers me a glass of champagne and a plate of lobster tail in a creamy garlic sauce. It’s like they just knew I would be starving after three days holed up in Damon’s reception.
Maybe he even let them know to do exactly this.
“Oh, no. Thank you, but I won’t,” I mutter to the hostess, embarrassed, as she raises the champagne glass toward me.
“Take it,” Jim tells me from across the aisle in his own seat. He still doesn’t seem fazed by all the surrounding opulence. “It’s free.”
“Okay,” I say, uncertain. “As long as you promise me this isn’t poison.”
