9. Ava
Chapter 9
Ava
“Welcome to The Songbird,” the receptionist beams as we approach the check-in desk. “So nice to see you again, Mr. Grant. How was your flight?”
“Good, thank you,” Jet says.
“It was better than I expected.” I glance around the opulent white and cream marble lobby. “I slept from take-off until landing.”
I turn back and grin at the receptionist. My nerves have been easing since the moment I woke up as we pulled up to the gate at JFK airport. The flight is little more than a hazy memory. Now I can enjoy being here. I’ve never been to New York before. We’re staying in Manhattan, so hopefully I’ll get a chance to explore.
“You’re in our newly designed penthouse, the Oriole.” The receptionist taps away into her computer.
I look at Jet. “We’re in the same room?”
“It’s a duplex, twin floor,” the receptionist says. “Five and a half thousand square feet. But I can change—”
“No, it’s fine. We live together in London…” I crane my neck to look at the giant crystal chandelier. This hotel is stunning; I can’t believe I’m actually here.
Jet continues talking to the receptionist as a bellman comes over and loads our suitcases onto a cart.
“These will be waiting for you in your room, Mr. Grant,” he comments as he places my silver suitcase beside Jet’s matching black one.
“My suitcase is the same as yours,” I say.
We look like we’re on honeymoon with his and hers luggage.
Jet inclines his head toward me, a muscle in his jaw tightening. “They’re the best. You want your things inside protected, don’t you?”
I watch the bellman disappear with my suitcase that’s filled with my lingerie. Except my waterlily panties. I needed to wear those on the flight. I’ll hand-wash them for the way home. It’s silly, but they’re my lucky ones.
“Yes, I do. Thank you.”
Jet motions to me to place my hands on the device the receptionist is holding out.
“We use your fingerprint to access the penthouses,” she explains, scanning my finger. “Okay. You’re all set. Would you like me to show you to your room?”
Jet shakes his head. “That won’t be necessary, thank you.”
He leads me away from the desk and toward the elevators. We ride up in one alone, then step out into a beautiful hallway, the walls covered in gilt-framed oil paintings.
“I need to make some calls,” Jet says as he scans us into our room.
I step inside as he holds the door open for me and fight not to let my mouth hit the floor.
It’s like walking onto the set of Bridgerton . The walls are painted cream, with ornate gold cornicing adorning them. And the decor is luxurious—velvet chairs, shining gilded side tables, Parisian rugs, thick drapes at the floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s an opulent renaissance-styled heaven.
“Callaghan is staying here too. He’ll be dining downstairs this evening. You’ll need an evening gown.”
Jet walks past me, taking his suit jacket off and folding it over the back of a velvet chair.
“Is it a dinner meeting?”
He walks back over to me, taking out his wallet.
“It will be.”
“Hold on. Will be? Do we actually have a meeting scheduled with him?”
Jet’s jaw tightens as he meets my gaze. “I’ll be talking with him tonight.”
“We’ve come all the way to New York, and he isn’t even expecting us?” I gawk at him. “That’s ridiculous.
“What’s ridiculous is that I have to chase a man I abhor around the world because he has something I want.” His blue eyes flash. “But I always get what I want in the end, Ava. ”
I look at his outstretched hand and the matte black card between his fingers.
“Buy whatever you need. Take a nap when you get back from shopping if you like. Just be ready for dinner at seven.”
“I don’t need your money. You already bought me suitcases.”
He sighs impatiently. “I have a driver waiting in the lobby for you. He’ll take you to the stores that will have what you need. Now, please, I have work to do.”
“I can buy my own dress.”
“This is a business trip; therefore, your expenses are mine. Take the card, Ava… and use it.” His eyes hold mine with a look that tells me not to contradict him again.
My fingers tingle with the desire to push him. But I also really want to get out and see some of the city.
“Okay.”
He nods once like I’ve pleased him, then turns and strides across the room, pulling out his phone as he goes.
“Take a drink. You need to hydrate after a flight,” he clips before he disappears down a hallway.
I look around the room and locate the kitchen through some double doors at one end. I open and close the cupboards before finding a concealed refrigerator inside one.
It’s stocked with mini bottles of water and grapefruit juice.
I grab a juice, then head out of the door with a smile.
“If that’s him, why aren’t we going over there? They’ve almost finished eating.”
Jet’s eyes darken as he looks at the man dining with an attractive younger brunette across the room.
“He’s with his daughter.”
“And? Maybe she works with him.”
“She doesn’t. Francesca is a model.”
I look at the beautiful woman again. A perfect, wide smile lights up her face as she talks with Callaghan. She’s stunning.
I straighten the sweetheart neckline of the cobalt blue dress I bought from Fifth Avenue. It was fun shopping with Jet’s card. I picked up matching lingerie for underneath too, and some business outfits.
“Don’t fidget,” Jet clips.
I scowl at him. He’s been a moody jerk ever since I came back to the penthouse. I hope he packed his skipping rope because he has serious stress to work out judging by the pulsing vein in his temple.
“The dress is perfect. Leave it,” he adds, sipping his wine.
I look down at my dress and smile. It is perfect. The sales assistant at the store looked at me strangely when I handed her Jet’s card to pay for it. His driver called him to appease her, and I didn’t need the speakerphone to hear his annoyed response at being interrupted while he worked.
“Ava Roberts can buy whatever she wants to. Charge it to my card.”
I mean, if that isn’t an invitation to go a little wild, then what is?
I shuffle in my seat, a frisson of energy dancing up my spine at the feel of my new lace G-string. New lingerie always makes me happier. And after braving my first flight in ten years, I deserve a treat.
“So, what’s the plan?” I ask as I finish the last spoonful of my dessert.
Jet’s attention is on Callaghan as he rises from his table.
“You stay here. I’ll be right back.” He tosses his napkin onto the table as he follows Callaghan across the restaurant in the direction of the restrooms.
I sit back in my seat, soaking in my surroundings. The restaurant is busy, and I spot the mayor of New York and his partner dining with another couple in a far corner.
“We’re leaving,” Jet snaps.
I look up to where he’s appeared beside the table. He’s tense and the vein in his temple looks close to bursting. I flick my gaze to Callaghan’s table. It’s empty.
“Did you speak to him? ”
“Now, Ava,” he grits, taking my elbow so he can steer me from my seat.
He places his palm against my lower back and leads me from the restaurant. It’s like having a hot poker against me, his fury seeping into my skin.
“Where are we going?”
“I need a fucking drink,” he hisses.
I keep my mouth shut as he hails us a cab. We drive for less than ten minutes before pulling up alongside a deep emerald awning in front of a non-descript building.
“Where are we?”
Jet hands the driver some folded notes and climbs out. He comes around to my door and opens it.
“Somewhere Callaghan won’t be.”
He waits for me to climb out.
“No way… Is this Seasons?” I look up at the green awning. There’s no name on it. But I’ve heard rumors about this place. You have to be someone to be accepted as a member here. Royalty, The President… CEO of a globally celebrated airline.
Jet places his hand on my lower back as we approach the entrance. The two suited security guards nod at us, opening the doors and granting us entrance.
“Have you been here before?”
“Yes. But mostly their LA premises.”
“Oh.” I walk alongside him down the dimly lit hallway. Another security guard opens a doorway at the end, and we walk into a giant, lavish bar bustling with people .
I take in the intimate tables and long bar along one wall. At the far side is a stage with a giant grand piano on it. A woman in a long sequined dress is sitting on top of it, singing a low, sultry song as a man plays.
We take a seat at one of the tables and Jet orders for us, the server returning moments later with two tumblers of clear liquid on ice.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” I lift the glass and sniff. Gin.
“Nothing happened. Callaghan’s still the same bastard he’s always been,” Jet clips.
“Where’s he going to be tomorrow? Are you going to try to speak to him again?”
He takes a long drink then leans back in his seat, spreading his arms over the sides. The half-empty glass dangles between his fingertips as he holds it by the rim.
“No. He knows I want to speak with him now. That’s the first step. His curiosity will win out. But not before he’s had us follow him around like dogs first. It’s a power game. He’ll cave, though… eventually.”
“So we’re just going to keep showing up until he’ll have a proper meeting with you?”
“Something like that.” Jet grimaces as he drains his glass. “I hate him for having the upper hand. But he won’t for long. Like I said, Ava. I always get what I want. I play to win.”
The grit in his voice piques my interest. I enjoy winding him up. Seeing the dangerous flicker in his eyes has heat rushing in my veins. With me, it’s a game, I know that. But this? This is deadly serious.
And there’s something captivating about Jet Grant when he looks like he’s willing to burn anyone who stands in the way of him getting what he wants.
“Miss Roberts?”
I look up into the male flight attendant’s eyes.
“Yes?”
“I’m Connor. This way, please. We have a different seat for you for takeoff.”
“Oh?”
My heartrate kicks up a notch as I grab my bottle of herbal pills and shove them into my purse. I haven’t taken any yet. I was just about to do it but held off, wondering where Jet is. I haven’t seen him since the departure gate. He pulled aside one of the airline’s ground staff as I boarded our flight back to London and told me to go ahead.
I managed the flight here, but I’d be much calmer if the grumpy ass was sitting beside me again. Just knowing I’m not alone is all I need .
Sweat prickles along my hairline. I don’t want to feel alone.
I follow the flight attendant to the front of the first-class cabin and into the plane’s galley.
“Is Mr. Grant sitting where I’m moving to?” I ask, trying to conceal the anxious tremor in my voice.
“He is.” Connor gives me a warm smile, then walks to the open cockpit door and says something to the pilots.
I glance around nervously as a member of ground staff exits the cockpit with a tablet in his hand and says something to the flight attendant standing by the open door where the last few passengers are boarding. I don’t see Jet among them.
I wipe my clammy hands on my skirt as Connor calls me.
“Miss Roberts. You can come and take your seat now.”
I inch closer to him, stepping inside the cockpit and spying the controls. There are buttons, levers, and lights everywhere, stretching up and over the ceiling.
“I don’t understand.”
“Take this one here.” Connor points to a seat on the left-hand side behind the pilots.
I drop into it.
“See you in the air,” he calls to the back of the pilot’s heads.
The one on the right lifts a hand in response and then looks at me.
“I’m Brock. Nice to meet you. ”
I take his offered hand in a daze and shake it.
“Ava,” I say.
The pilot on the left—in the Captain’s seat—turns, pinning his blue gaze on me.
“We need to make our runway slot. Fasten your harness.”
I stare back at Jet, my eyes dropping over the uniform he’s changed into. There are four gold stripes on his shirt’s epaulets.
“Y-you’re flying us?”
“We both are.” He motions to Brock. “One of the pilots got sick. We’d have had to cancel the flight otherwise.”
My eyes ping-pong between them as my breathing quickens.
“You’ll see everything that happens in here,” Jet says with a measured, calmness to his tone. “Nothing to worry about. If we don’t look worried, you don’t need to be, okay?”
I nod, taking a slow breath in as I look into his clear, confident eyes. I might not like him, but I know he’s capable.
“Okay… I trust you.”
He presses his lips together, his jaw hardening. “Fasten your harness.”
I look at the straps hanging from the seat. My hands shake as I reach for them. They aren’t like the cabin seat belts. There are four, and they all clip into a central buckle.
“Need a hand?” Brock offers, rising from his seat .
“She’s my passenger.” Jet unclips his belt and gets out of his seat before Brock does.
He leans over me, his face serious as he does the first strap up. I move to help him with the second, but I catch my skirt as I fumble. It hitches up my thighs, exposing gold waterlilies on pink silk.
“They’re my lucky ones,” I explain as my cheeks heat.
Jet’s eyes bore into the delicate strip of fabric between my thighs. He clears his throat, then smooths my skirt back down over my thighs with a brusque brush of his palm.
“You don’t need luck when I’m flying you, Ava.” His breath dusts over my neck as he fastens the shoulders straps for me and pulls them tight.
My gaze skates over his angular jaw and down his broad chest. His pilot uniform fits him like a glove. Like he was born in it.
“I should have guessed you’d be a pilot,” I mumble as he straps back into his seat and puts his headset on.
“Been flying since before I was born,” he says, before slipping into full concentration.
I’m enthralled as he and Brock go through their pre-take-off checks together. He’s right, being up here has made it easier. Seeing how in control he is, knowing he’s got the power in his hands for everyone’s safety makes me calmer in a way I’d never have expected.
The cockpit falls into silence as we hurtle down the runway. The only thing I hear is blood rushing in my ears and a faint acknowledgment of something called ‘V1’ and ‘V2’ between the two men.
Once we’re in the air and cruising gently, Brock turns to me with a grin.
“First time up front for takeoff?”
“In a plane this size,” I answer, glancing out of the window at the clouds below us. I push away the rising memory. I can’t think about it now. Not up here.
Jet looks at me curiously but says nothing.
I chat a little more with Brock about what I thought of New York, despite only seeing a little of it. Jet is on the radio talking to air traffic, and checking readings on the controls, the thick veins in his forearms pulsing each time he reaches to one of the switches overhead. His face is a picture of calm as he slides a pair of aviators on and looks out of the window. The sight brings reassurance to me.
There’s a chime from the cockpit door and Jet checks a camera screen, then presses a button, unlocking it.
Connor comes in and checks if everyone is okay and offers us coffee.
“Why don’t you go and get some sleep, Ava.” Jet finally turns to me. “Without any herbal aids this time.”
He looks at Connor who smiles at me. “I’ll take you to your seat.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
I look at Jet, but I can’t tell where he’s looking behind his sunglasses. I unfasten my harness carefully so I don’t flash my panties at him again .
I follow Connor into the cabin, and he shows me to a first-class seat at the front, near the galley.
“Can I get you anything, Miss Roberts?”
“I’m good. Thank you.”
I slide into the seat and take a deep breath. My anxiety isn’t as bad now that we’re in the air. As long as it isn’t turbulent, I can trick my mind into thinking I’m on the ground. Or riding in a train. I look around the cabin and at the fresh flowers on top of the inflight bar. A really fancy train.
“Grant insisted. He wanted to take this one.”
My ears prick up at the conversation floating out from behind the galley curtain.
There’s a chuckle that sounds like Connor. “When the boss asks, you say yes.”
A man opens the curtain and steps out. His eyes meet mine and he gives me a friendly smile as he passes. I turn and look at the pilot uniform he’s wearing. It’s exactly the same as Jet’s.
Including the four stripes on his epaulets.