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I walked with confidence, knowing this place like the back of my hand. It was to the point where even some of the staff had trouble keeping up with me as they pulled my luggage. I went through the same routine, check-in, security, boarding pass, and all that jazz. Honestly, it was just second nature to me. I arrived at the lounge, though I had grown tired of that place about a decade ago, so I just went through the doors and boarded the car that was going to drive me to the jet.
“Hello again, Mr. Oviatt. It’s a pleasure to see you fly with us once more. It's been a little while since the last time,” the flight attendant greeted me as I jogged up the stairs leading to the entrance of the jet.
“Have you been taking care of my baby?” I asked her, patting the jet with my bare hands. It had been a while since I last saw it, but I made it available to be chartered just so it wasn’t cooped up in a hangar somewhere. Birds had to fly, after all.
“Of course, sir,” she replied with a smile as she stepped aside to give me more space to walk in. “You're the last passenger to arrive. We will begin takeoff protocols momentarily,” she informed me, and a smile found itself on my face.
So, she was already here, huh?
Upon walking inside the bar and lounge area, my ears picked up a very familiar voice.
“I’m sorry, I’m just kind of freaking out. Do you have anything that would maybe calm my nerves?” Olivia asked the bartender, and he immediately nodded and got to work. Her back was in front of me, her hair hanging elegantly down her back in a low ponytail.
I took a seat on the stool on the other side of her.
“Well, any alcoholic beverage is sure to shake off all that tension.” I turned my head to look at her with a grin, but she only showed a shocked and confused expression.
“What? You didn’t think you were going to fly with Eric, did you?” I asked, strangely feeling a bit cheeky. This was the first time that Olivia and I had the opportunity to sit down and just talk after we… well, fucked in my office.
“Mr. Oviatt,” she whispered in awe, probably still processing that I was actually here. “Thank you for inviting me on your private jet,” she said, doing the thing again where she magically found her composure.
It astounded me every time she did that. I could clearly see her shakiness and uncertainty, and like a flick of a switch, she would become an entirely different person. I had to admit; it was very sexy.
I asked for my favorite aged whiskey.
“When you’re done with your drink, come find me in my back office. We have to talk about your next story,” I declared, standing up from the bar and walking toward the rear cabin.
Upon opening my private office, I took in the interior. I hadn’t seen it in quite a while, and it made me reminisce about the days when OVT was starting to boom. I was flying around all over the place, and even tens of thousands of feet in the air, I was still neck-deep in work. I ran my hands through the cushioned wooden office chair before sitting down, remembering my late twenties. There were two chairs in front of my bolted down desk, and I just realized that no one had actually ever sat there before.
I had just set my drink down and sat behind the desk when Olivia knocked and peeked her head inside. She walked in with some fruity-looking cocktail that seemed to match her personality perfectly. Sweet, but lethal.
“Hi,” she said a little timidly. “Why am I not surprised that you’re a whiskey guy?” She took a sip of her own drink and hummed with satisfaction. The sound went straight to my dick.
I shifted in my chair as I gestured toward the seats in front of my desk. She looked uneasy.
“This is your first time flying, isn’t it?” I asked.
Olivia shook her head.
“It's my first time flying in a small, private plane, though.” She looked at the window. “Not everyone has private jets.”
She took a gulp of her cocktail, draining half of it. I fought the urge to round the desk and comfort her.
“Well, I’m happy I can be your first,” the words left my mouth before I could think. The air thickened between us and something dark flashed behind Olivia’s eyes. I didn’t kid myself that I was actually her first, but I couldn’t help but remember our first time together.
I cleared my throat and tried to bring the conversation back to something resembling being professional.
“So, have you thought about how you’re going to report this? Itwillcome off of your viral roller coaster story, after all,” I inquired, doing as much as I could to forget what I recklessly said.
“How many more fluff pieces will I do?” Olivia asked, a hint of disdain in her voice. “I just want to tell a story that matters, you know?” Suddenly, she caught herself, her eyes widening and her back straightening up. “I’m sorry about that, I was just—I mean, I’m happy to have the job, I just…”
Her voice trailed off and a worried expression clouded her eyes.
“You may get your first political story when you improve your reporting style. Just because you went viral and broke records doesn’t mean you get to be part of the political team,” I answered, leaning back into my chair as a displeased expression started to form on her face. "There's a totally different feel to political reporting."
I had seen that exact same look on a reporter’s face a million times before. It didn’t matter what business people were in, people didn’t like being criticized. They didn’t like being dubbed as lacking. If people were given the chance to take a shortcut to the top, almost all of them would take it. People thrived on praise and appreciation, and rejected any form of criticism and judgment.
“Why not?” Olivia asked, her eyes started to fill with a different kind of fire. A violent one, a volatile one. Maybe the alcohol coursing through her veins wasn’t helping her, but I doubted it.
