CHAPTER SIX #3
I shouldn’t relish her fire so much, the way she pushes back at me, but I do. That spark of lightning. Every strike is a show of trust whether she realizes it or not. Trust in herself and, to a degree, trust in me. I need her compliant, not cowering. She certainly doesn’t disappoint .
But, Christ, she fucks with my head. My whole office smells like vanilla raspberry and erotic fantasies.
Ty chuckles, eyes creasing as though he’s in on a secret. “I think you’ll manage that just fine.”
“Maybe so, but not now. Go smooth things over with her. The last thing I need is her pushing boundaries. And get her to sign these damn papers.”
His lips curl into a smirk as he grabs the prenup. “Sure thing, Chief.”
My private jet is fueled and loaded with everyone but Gage and me. He stands beside me, holding his Black Rifle Coffee sipper and a pumpkin muffin. A muffin from the batch Ivy whipped up at the crack of dawn, claiming baking eases her anxiety. He already ate two at home.
I never got a private moment with him last night, and it’s important that I know where his head is at. “Do we need to discuss expectations for this trip?”
He scowls. “I confirmed my understanding yesterday.”
Nodding, I pat him on the back with a subtle smile. “Good muffins?”
He shoots me a sidelong glare before slipping his sunglasses on and trudging forward. “Yep. I bet Adam thought it was a tasty fucking apple in the garden too.” Backhanding my chest on his way toward the stairs, he laughs. “I’m good, I swear.”
If he says he is, that’s enough for me and one issue I can cross off my growing list. I scale the stairs, my own coffee in hand, and scan for Ivy. The guys wisely left the seat across from her empty, so she’s alone, reading.
Once seated, I call her name a couple of times, but she’s so engrossed in her book that nothing else exists.
While I find that endearing, the term book boyfriend that she threw at Liam yesterday keeps assaulting me.
I lean forward, skimming my hand over her linen pants.
She’s a vision of both class and comfort—olives and beiges.
Half of her blazing locks are swirled into a braid on top of her head, leaving the back flowing, while wisps frame her face.
Her silver necklace makes her peach skin shimmer above her scoop-neck tank.
She seems more like a doe than a storm in this light.
Too pure for the world I’m about to thrust her into.
And while I’m fairly confident she’ll thrive because we’re very good at what we do and we have anticipated the endless routes, she may very well hate me when all is said and done.
It’s the one destination I can’t see clearly because at the end of this, her feelings about me won’t be a choice I can manipulate any longer.
But whether she likes it or not, she’ll be tethered to me.
Mine.
I’ll have to let that be enough.
The touch of my hand on her leg forces her eyes up to me, innocent and sapphire today.
She pulls out her AirPods. “Hey.” She giggles. “Were you trying to get my attention?”
“You were immersed in your book.”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “It’s a villain romance, and I had the noise-canceling on the AirPods. The racket a plane makes can be imposing.”
“Villain romance?” Are her book boyfriends villains? That could work.
She wiggles her head, a whimsical grin coasting up her cheeks. “He’s bad news, but she can’t resist. Good in print, not in practice.”
“Right,” I reply, choosing not to read too deeply into that as I pull a small box from the pocket in my suit jacket and pass it to her.
She flashes me a questioning look, followed by a hard swallow. Nervous.
I reach over and tap the top of it. “Open it.”
Her breath catches as she does, eyes flitting between me and the ring—a rare square stormy-blue diamond, bold in both size and clarity, surrounded by smaller white diamonds that continue down the band.
“Wow.” Voice raw and real. “I didn’t think …
when did you? It’s stunning. So elegant. I wasn’t expecting …”
As much as her sharp tongue arouses me, I find it being tied charming . “It’s important the engagement and the marriage come across as authentic. A ring was necessary.”
“Of course.” She straightens in her seat, composing herself as I’m sure her mother has schooled her. “You have impeccable taste. It’s exactly as I would have chosen for myself, so consider the authenticity nailed.” She begins lifting it from the box but hesitates. “May I?”
“Please. It won’t do us any good in the box.” I jump right to the remainder of our business while she slides the ring onto her finger, gaping at it, her lips rolling in with a hint of excitement as sparkles of light gleam from it, prancing around the plane’s cabin.
“We’ll be staying at La Lune Noire,” I continue.
She glances up, trying her best to focus on me instead of her finger.
“It’s owned and operated by a friend of mine and his brothers. Their hotel has everything we need for the wedding and the prep—restaurants, pools, stores, bars, and a salon and spa. There’s even a casino. We won’t be leaving the property.”
Her shoulders slump, face stony, ring momentarily forgotten. “I’ve never been to New Orleans. I was excited to explore the city.”
Not a chance. Too dangerous. “We aren’t going there to sightsee, Ivanna.”
She huffs, her eyes filling with more defeat than anger. Unshed tears brimming.
Fuck.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t say anything, but instead stews silently while chewing on the inside of her lip.
No fire. Only disappointment. Sadness.
I brush my hand over hers, certain to press my palm into the ring as a reminder of both our nice moment and what she’s willingly agreed to. “Fine. If all goes well, I’ll consider a brief outing on the last day. We’re returning Wednesday morning, so we can be back in time to see your father.”
She perks up, a bright, winning smile breaking over her face, all the way up to her tiny, devious ears. The smattering of freckles on her cheeks and nose shine like a warning of menace rather than the markings of innocence.
The Little Storm played me.