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But that kiss. That kiss felt so real, so special, and unlike any other. No one is that good of an actor, not even here in Los Angeles. Or is this just wishful thinking?
Sighing, I continue to walk to my car, my disappointment weighing on me. Maybe it was just as stupid to believe that he’d show up like that again. I mean, what did I expect after days of radio silence? A surprise visit with a bouquet of flowers and a dinner invitation? As if.
I slowly approach my Bugatti, my head hanging low as I carry the weight of disappointment with me. Just as I’m about to open the driver’s door, I notice something tucked beneath the windshield wiper. At first, anger flares within me, because I’m convinced it must be a parking ticket. My frown deepens as I reach for it, ready to face the inevitable.
But as I reach for the paper, I realize that it’s not a ticket at all. It’s an envelope, pristine white, with handwritten words on it.
In for a little adventure?
Confusion replaces my initial irritation as I read the sentence again.
My curiosity gets the better of me as I open the envelope, revealing a neatly folded letter inside. My heart quickens as I start reading, my emotions shifting from frustration to intrigue.
Let’s talk.
Meet me at LAX, Atlantic Aviation, Thursday morning at 10 a.m.
Pack lightly.
The message is signed with Chase’s name and three perplexing words: “It might be worth it.”
“It might be worth it?” I read out loud. “What the…”
I mull over the note, my mind racing with questions. What is this supposed to mean? Why does he want me at the airport? And if I’m not mistaken, Atlantic Aviation is not a regular terminal but a hub for private jets.
Does he really think I’m crazy enough to hop on a private plane with him for “a little adventure”?
Because I just might be. He may just be playing with me to get what he wants, but Max is right—there could be something in it for me, too. Even if it’s just sex with the hottest man on Earth.
But what’s with those words at the end? The ‘might be’ part nags at me, stirring both curiosity and a tinge of apprehension. Chase has always been unpredictable, and this message is no exception. And what does he mean by “Let’s talk”? About what? About the buyout? About the kiss? About us? Why does he expect me to pack for a trip and meet him at the airport, if this is just about the buyout?
Who the hell does he think he is? He must know that this kind of game could never work with any halfway reasonable person.
However, I’m not sure if I would consider myself reasonable when it comes to him. Because I’m already considering going along with this. I’m actually considering following the demand in this short and presumptuous note. It’s as mysterious as him, a risky riddle that I need to solve. His message gives rise to even more questions than I had before. But despite the uncertainty, I can’t help but feel an undeniable pull, a desire to unravel this enigma.
Shaking off my bewilderment, I slip the note into my bag and slide into the driver’s seat of my car. Fine. Let’s go on an adventure, Mr. Keaton.
As I pull out of the parking lot, I make a mental note to call Ann-Marie first thing in the morning. Clearing my schedule for Thursday is the first step in this intriguing journey, and I’m curious to see where it will lead.
Chapter 23
Chase
The minutes tick by, and I scan the crowd for any sign of Madison. I’ve been standing here for more than ten minutes like an idiot because my dumb nerves drove me out of the house way too early. I haven’t heard a word from her, but I know that she found the note—because I was acting like an idiot on that day, too.
I knew what classes at the Tensho she attends, and so after I attached the note to her Bugatti, I hid behind the wheel of my own ride, parked as far away as possible while still remaining in view of her vehicle, and waited. It felt like an eternity, until she finally emerged from the Tensho, her pretty lips pressed into a thin line and the hint of a frown gracing her features. She looked tense and unhappy as she hurried toward her car, her gaze trailing across the parking lot as if she was looking for something, or someone. She barely looked in my direction, but I still found myself ducking behind my wheel every time she glanced my way.
The expression on her face had darkened when she spotted the paper under her windshield wiper, but it changed entirely when she opened the envelope. She read the note with narrowed eyes, and then she smiled. She shook her head, but she was smiling.
She liked what she saw. But does that mean she’ll show up today?
I check the time for the umpteenth time and almost groan in agony when I realize that only two minutes have passed since I last checked. It’s a minute past 10 a.m. already and I’m beginning to feel uneasy.
But just as doubt begins to creep in, there she is. Madison steps into the terminal, looking absolutely stunning in a breezy summer dress that clings to her in all the right places. Her long hair is pulled back into a ponytail, her eyes hiding behind oversized sunglasses, adding an air of mystery to her presence.
Relief washes over me, and a smile tugs at the corners of my lips. She’s here. She actually showed up. My breath catches in my throat as I watch her approach, pulling a small carry-on behind her and balancing an iced latte in her other hand.
As she gets closer, I admire the effortless grace with which she moves. Her confidence shines through, and I can’t deny that I’m captivated by her presence.
