Chapter 18
Brielle
Friday comes around faster than I expect. I’ve been so busy at work these last few days that I barely have my head on straight.
Apparently, Damian—or Mr. Edgerton, I guess—told the marketing team to bring me in on the Vitales’ account. Which is great. Really great. I am having the best time working with Trent and Danielle.
I still have to prove myself to them though. I can tell they don’t understand why I’m there, but they’re still being super sweet about it. And they haven’t totally shut down any of my ideas. If anything, they’ve taken them and helped to workshop them into something better.
But I know I’ve left Rui and Erica to pick up my slack while I’ve been working with the marketing team.
I don’t want to let them down, so I’ve been working extra hours every night to stay ahead of things.
Taking today off as a vacation day is both a much-needed reprieve from the long hours and making me feel heavy with the guilt that I’m leaving not one, but two, teams stranded.
Knock, knock, knock.
The sound at the door steals my attention away from my guilty conscience. My heart beats a little faster as I race to the door. Holly left for work a while ago, so it’s just me in the apartment. I open the door and can immediately tell it’s Damian standing in front of me and not Mr. Edgerton.
He’s wearing those dark jeans again, paired with a charcoal-gray sweater. His dark hair is perfectly styled, and his midnight eyes flit over me quickly.
Everything about Damian gives off dark and dangerous vibes. But I’ve also seen him in borrowed, too-short coveralls, so that helps level the playing field a bit.
“Are you ready?” he asks. Even when he’s casual, he’s still Damian Edgerton. No greeting. No preamble.
“Good morning to you, too.” I smile brightly. He glares back, unamused. “Yes, let me just grab my bag.”
“I’ve got it.” He steps into the apartment, crowding my space. The rich, masculine scent of him floats by me, and my mouth waters. His hand lands on my hip, and I swallow quickly. My skin tingles under his touch as my mind tries to process what’s happening.
Damian backs me up a step, and I willingly go wherever he leads. His strong hand takes possession of my body, heat racing through my veins.
My lips part, my gaze locked on his.
And then he closes the door behind him and walks toward my bedroom, while I stand there with my pulse throbbing down to my toes and my mind a jumbled mess of want and confusion.
He knew exactly what he was doing to me when he put his hand on my body.
He could have just asked me to let him in, but no.
He had to send fire through my blood just because he could. He really can be such a dick sometimes.
Damian takes my bag, and I follow him down the three flights of stairs. His back muscles aren’t visible under the fabric of his sweater, but I know they’re there. I know just how they feel under my fingers.
We get in the car, and I’m surprised to find the music on when he starts it up. It’s an old alternative band from the ’90s. One of those songs that you know every word to but couldn’t name the band if your life depended on it.
Damian deftly maneuvers onto the highway during Boston’s morning rush hour.
With his sunglasses on and the relaxed air of confidence that he carries, he looks like one of the mafia bosses from my romance novels.
I’m too busy staring at him to notice until I see the sign for Logan Airport pass us by.
“Hey, you missed the exit,” I tell him.
“We’re not going to Logan.”
“Um, you might not be, but I am. That’s where my flight leaves from.”
“We have a different flight.”
“Damian, you can’t just change my flight on me. I have my sister picking me up at a certain time. What’s the new flight information? I’ll text her what time to be there.”
“Tell her you’re all set. You won’t need a ride.”
“Damian,” I warn. That authoritative air can be sexy as hell, but it can also be super annoying when he decides to change up my plans without discussing them with me first.
“Brielle,” he mocks back. When he sees me staring at him, my arms crossed over my chest, he just laughs. Laughs! “I got a rental car. I didn’t think it was a big deal. We’re going to be there for three days. That’s a long time to be stuck without transportation.”
“How do you know I didn’t already have one booked? You didn’t even ask,” I complain.
“I asked you for your travel arrangements. It wasn’t included in the details you sent me, and I know how organized you are.
If you had scheduled a rental, you would have included it.
Tell your sister that you don’t need her to pick us up at the airport.
Besides, we’re not flying into Denver anyway. ”
“What do you mean we’re not flying into Denver?” I ask as I shoot a text off to my sister.
The corner of Damian’s mouth pulls up, amusement etched into his chiseled face, even though he is trying to remain stoic. He doesn’t answer as he travels down the highway to an unknown destination.
Damian pulls into a small airport twenty minutes away. He drives directly onto the tarmac, and as soon as he stops the car, a man comes up. He greets Damian first and then starts to come around to my side of the car.
“If you could get the bags, please,” Damian tells him, redirecting him.
One of the things I’ve learned about Damian is that he likes to open the car door for me. And he doesn’t like anyone else doing it. I wait until he comes around, helping me out of the car.
“What is this?” I ask, my gaze fixed on the shiny plane in front of us. It’s smaller than a commercial jet, but larger than a little Cessna.
“Our flight.”
“When you say ‘our flight,’ do you mean…”
His full smile catches me unaware, and my heart patters rapidly before I can squelch it. “Yes, Brielle. I mean it is ours. Just ours.”
My jaw unhinges. “You chartered a private plane for this?”
“Your flight was booked, so I improvised. Come on.” He takes my hand, threading our fingers together, and tugs me along to the airstairs.
I’ve never seen anything like this in my entire life.
I feel like I’m in a movie as Damian escorts me onto the plane.
Four oversized, comfortable seats are positioned in a square, two facing forward and two facing back.
A small aisle goes down the middle, and on each side, a table comes between the two seats.
A folded blanket, pillow, eye mask, and noise-canceling headphones rest on each seat.
Damian takes his seat while I’m still standing, dumbfounded at all of the luxury around me.
I take the items from the other forward-facing chair and sit on the left, on the other side of the aisle to Damian.
“Sit on this side,” he says, looking down at his phone.
“Oh, sure.” I get up and move to the backward-facing seat. “Is that a weight distribution thing?”
“No.” He smirks, putting his phone in his pocket.
I kick his leg as I try to glare at him for making me move.
Damian catches my foot and brings it to his lap under the table.
Our eyes lock, and a shiver rakes down my spine as Damian peels my sneaker from my foot.
I move my other foot to his lap. His lips twitch in an almost smirk as he removes my other shoe for me as well.
A beautiful woman appears out of nowhere, and I pull my foot free so I can right myself in my seat.
“Mr. Edgerton. Thank you for choosing us to serve you again today. Is there anything I can get you before we take off?” There’s a suggestion to her voice. Her eyes rove over him, more familiar than I care for.
“Just an ice water, Alessandra. Brielle?” He barely even looks at her, turning his attention back to me. I almost feel bad when I see her straighten her back and turn to me with a fake customer-service smile.
“I’m fine, thanks.” My lips pull into an imitation of a smile that drops just as quickly.
“Of course. If you need anything at all, please let me know. I’ll be right over there. I’m here to serve you.”
“Just the ice water. And, Alessandra…”
“Yes,” she answers quickly.
“Get someone to take this table out. When we want to eat, we’ll use the other one.”
“Of course. Right away.”
She bounds away, and I have to look away to stop myself from glaring at him.
Damian has his head in his phone again, typing away as work never stops for the CEO.
“What could I have possibly done that’s made you upset?” he says without looking up.
“Who says I’m upset?” I am, but considering he isn’t even glancing my way, he wouldn’t know it.
He lifts his eyes to meet mine and then glances at my leg, bouncing a mile a minute.
“You and Alessandra seem to know each other pretty well,” I say, my tone barely masking the ball of jealousy that’s ignited in my belly.
He picks his head up at that, just as a man comes over to our seats.
“Mr. Edgerton, I understand you’d like this table gone. Would it be okay if I got in there for a moment?”
Everyone is so polite and deferential to him. They’re treating him like he’s some kind of royalty. I stand and wait in the aisle, all the while Damian’s eyes are on me. He takes his time before joining me so that the maintenance person can do what Damian himself requested they do.
He crowds my space, even though the aisle is much larger than a regular airplane’s and there is plenty of room for both of us.
“Are you jealous, Brielle?” he whispers for only me to hear.
“No,” I huff. At least, I shouldn’t be. There is nothing to be jealous of.
Whether or not he and Alessandra have had an intimate relationship is none of my business.
Not. My. Concern. We aren’t really together, and even if we were, it isn’t like I would have any right to be jealous of someone from his past.
But, like, how far in the past? Did they hook up years ago? A few months ago? Since we’ve been… hanging out?
No. It doesn’t matter.
I straighten my spine, turning away from him.