Chapter 4
Chapter four
The Next Evening
Even though I flew in from New York early this morning, I’ve been at Clay Lacey Aviation for most of the day.
Control is comforting, and this flight could change my life.
Everything has to be perfect.
The industrial hangar lights cast soft halos over the polished steel of my Gulfstream, which is capable of crossing oceans without strain. The fuel trucks pulled away half hour ago. The transatlantic routing has been filed. Weather over the Atlantic clear enough for a smooth crossing.
My pilot, Magnus, is slowly and methodically walking the exterior with a flashlight, tracing lines along the fuselage, checking panels, intakes, surfaces.
Inside the cabin, catering is being arranged with quiet precision. I step into the galley and nod once to the attendant, who straightens immediately when she sees me.
Cristal is chilling for take-off. Screaming Eagle is decanting for our dinner.
Beluga caviar nests next to a basket of linen-wrapped blinis. Crème fra?che in porcelain. Mother-of-pearl spoons aligned beside the setup.
On the prep counter, Balik salmon has been sliced thin as silk. Oysters rest on ice with carved lemon spirals and a shallot mignonette. A5 wagyu steak and Maine lobster are already prepped for a final sear and butter poach after takeoff. An entire white truffle is ready to be shaved over the top.
Dinner is set up perfectly, so I move on to the aft suite.
The bed is made. Crisp white linens pulled snug enough to reflect light.
A full-size gray Minky Couture blanket is folded at the foot of the bed.
I smooth my palm over the fabric, noting how soft and cozy it feels.
A few months ago she mentioned falling asleep wrapped in one of these on Marisol’s couch.
Details matter and tonight I’m going to make it impossible for her to misunderstand my intention.
Now, all I have left to do is wait for her.
Strolling back into the forward lounge, I lower myself down in my lounger and let my shoulders sink into the soft leather. My briefcase rests near my feet. Inside, a copy of the final purchase agreement awaits my review. Two hundred pages, including exhibits, documents the transaction.
If I sign, I’ll be five hundred and twelve million dollars richer.
Selling is going to change everything in my life, including my identity. Strangely, this milestone doesn’t seem urgent right now. The sale can wait.
Tonight isn’t about valuation.
It’s about destiny. I can’t wait for Sky to step through the cabin door and notice the shift in our dynamic before I even say a word. Champagne instead of Rose. Caviar instead of olives. Purpose instead of routine.
I try to gather myself by clasping my hands together and steady my breathing.
Magnus interrupts my thoughts when he places a hand on my shoulder. “She’s here.”
My heart rams in my chest.
“Thank you.” I manage to rise without rushing.
Through the oval window I catch the sweep of headlights entering the hangar. The black sedan I sent for her rolls into position beneath the wash of overhead lights. I watch from the airstair door as the car comes to a stop. The driver exits first. Then the rear door opens.
Sky steps out into the night.
Her black trenchcoat catches a faint crosswind, hair loose around her shoulders, violet thread flashing under hangar lights. She pauses for half a second, scanning the aircraft, taking in its’ scale without letting it show.
She reaches back into the car for her suitcase. Two crew members approach and intercept with quiet efficiency.
“Evening, Ms. Morgan,” one greets cordially, already taking the handle from her grip.
She holds it for a beat, stubbornness flickering in her eyes. “I’ve got it.”
“Please, ma’am. You’re the guest,” the attendant replies, steady and respectful, rolling it toward the cargo hold.
Sky steps back, exhales once, then turns. Her eyes land on me. A flush spreads along her cheeks before she reins it in. She straightens, lifts her chin, and approaches.
I skip down to meet her.
“Hey,” I keep my tone light as I close the distance.
She stops in front of me and allows her gaze to travel slowly from my polished black boots up my tailored charcoal suit. “You look absurdly put together for someone who’s been burning the candle at both ends.”
“I’m always put together.” I can’t help but smile. God, I’ve missed her.
“Insufferable,” she mutters, but affection lingers in her voice.
I don’t hesitate. I pull her into me. Her body stiffens for a fraction of a second, surprised, then softens. Her arms slide around my back firmly, cheek settling against my chest.
I hold her longer than I should. When I step back, my hands remain at her waist.
“You good?” I search her face for any sign of wariness.
She nods once and her eyes flick to the plane behind me. “Yeah. I’m…fine.”
“Great. Let’s go,” I prompt, gesturing to the plane.
She inhales slowly. “Sure. Why not climb into an absurd flying hotel at midnight?”
“You’re welcome.” I lean down, lips brushing her ear.
She trembles.
Inside, the cabin glows, lighting set for the red-eye. Cream leather catches ochre strips along the ceiling. Walnut trim reflects soft highlights. She pauses just inside the doorway, carefully taking in the space.
“So, this is normal for you,” she murmurs.
“It’s actually practical.”
She turns her head slowly. “Practical. Rigggght.”
Ignoring her lighthearted jab, I lift the Cristal from its cradle.
“Drink?” I offer, pouring the bubbly liquid into a flute.
Seemingly unimpressed, she takes it, fingers brushing mine for half a breath before lifting the glass. Her eyes widen slightly after the first sip, then she recovers. “Who are you, and what did you do with my beer-drinking law school friend?”
“He’s left the building,” I wink.
Her gaze drifts to the caviar service laid out in silver and porcelain.
“Oh, come on.” She steps closer. “I’d have been fine with a bag of Doritos.”
“We’ve got to eat. It’s a long flight.”
She studies me over the rim of her flute. “Okay. Now, you’re showing off.”
I let my posture relax. Cool. Controlled. Sky thinks this is an ostentatious spectacle.
Little does she know it’s a seduction.
We move deeper into the cabin. Her fingertips trail lightly along the back of each seat, nervous energy disguised as curiosity. Through the galley and past the cabin restrooms, we reach the aft suite. I open the door and wave her inside, following at a measured pace.
She takes in the white linens and fluffy pillows, but she gasps when she notices the soft gray Minky Couture blanket folded at the foot of the bed. She reaches for it before she can stop herself.
Sky groans as she rubs the plush, fur texture, then freezes. “Where did you get this?”
“You recognize it.” I grin.
Her brows draw together. “This is Marisol’s. Ohmygod, is she here?”
“No, it’s just us, but you haven’t stopped talking about this blanket for the past two years,” I explain quietly. “I bought it for you, this goes home with you after the trip.”
Her fingers remain sunk into the fabric. “I didn’t realize you’d paid attention.”
“I always pay attention to you,” I answer honestly.
She looks away for a moment, blinking, then back at me.
“I can’t believe this is your life,” she admits. “Jets and champagne and excess.”
I step a little closer, narrowing the space between us. “This flight isn’t for anyone else.”
“Well…” She sets the champagne flute down carefully. “You’re making it hard to keep teasing you.”
“I don’t mind you teasing me.” I wink.
The roar of the engines deepens as the crew begin final checks.
“We should sit.” I hold out my hand, which is visibly shaking.
“Are you nervous?” she whispers.
I eek out a slow breath. “A little. Not about the flight.”
Her lips part. Eyes widen.
If I’m not mistaken, Sky understands what I’m putting down. Or, at least, hopes…
She’s bracing. Same as me.
Ahead, I hear the cabin door seal with a muted thud.
“Come on,” I offer my hand, “let me show you your seat.”
She nods once and steps closer, her shoulder brushing mine as we walk forward into the inevitable.