Hailee
I think this is the first time Alex has ever surprised me. His sudden whim to get out of town threw me for such a loop that I thought it was a ploy to flee without revealing some kind of security threat we were facing.
Now I think he’s being genuine. He wants to get the hell away from work like a normal human being. Because he can.
It may be the first relatable thing the man has ever done. I can’t picture having his money and still clocking in for ten-hour days, seven days a week.
You might argue that’s why he’s a billionaire and I’m not. But whatever. I like the beach, but I can’t imagine Alex sprawled out and working on his tan. He must have some sort of hobby there.
Fishing. Motorboating. Maybe just playing golf and eating lobster. I hope he’s more interesting than that. However, I feel like this trip is going to be a lot like our dynamic in New York—living on different floors of a big house and seeing each other from a distance.
He did call it a cottage. But that’s just the nomenclature for beach houses around New England. I know some people will call a 5,000-square-foot behemoth the family cottage.
I’m early to the foyer with my duffel packed. Lucas texted me telling me to enjoy the beach, so I guess he’s already in on this.
Apparently, Alex must have clothes there, because his only luggage is his leather briefcase. He’s changed out of his suit. He’s in a black dress shirt and jeans. I can see his muscles move beneath the thin fabric. It makes me realize I’ve never not seen him suited up. He looks almost sexier in more casual clothes.
I want to see him in blue jeans and a T-shirt.
In nothing at all.
Stop, .
We get in the back of the S-class, and Alex is busy sending emails on his phone for the first ten minutes of the drive. His head of security, Bruce, is in the passenger seat. I wouldn’t be so nervous, but he keeps his head on a swivel. He looks at the side mirror, the rearview mirror, the left side, and right side of the street as we drive.
I’m so distracted watching him surveil for threats that it takes me a while to realize we’re driving to South Manhattan.
That makes no sense. We should be going north towards I-95 or 684.
Maybe I shouldn’t have taken Alex at face value about this trip. Maybe there is some crisis he’s whisking us away from. We’re nearing the Financial District when I get nervous enough to interrupt his typing.
“Shouldn’t we be going north?”
Alex glances up for a moment. “We’re not driving.”
“So, we’re going to the airport?”
“Pier 6. The heliport.”
I try not to act like an excited sixth grader. A helicopter? Hell yeah.
I’ve always wanted to see the city from the sky. You’re telling me I get a view and an hour-long commute up the coast? I could get used to this. “Cool,” I say, trying to sound it, but I know I’m anything but.
Alex puts his phone away. “Have you ever been in a helicopter?”
“Nope.”
“It’d be a five-hour drive. I don’t mind your company, , but that’s a long time to spend in a car.”
“I’m not complaining.”
“You seemed nervous.”
“It’s not the flying. I thought you were kidnapping me. Sorry.”
“The kidnapping comes later.”
I feel my heart flutter. Did he just tell another little joke? He must be in a good mood. I’m in one too.
At lunch I was expecting another four hours of monotonous work, but now I’m on my way to a helicopter and the beach. Shit. I didn’t bring a book. I’m not about to ask to stop by my apartment now. I don’t mind reading on my phone, but I’d rather have a paperback this weekend to complete the cottage aesthetic.
Maybe I’ll go into a sleepy beach town to look for a bookstore. It’ll be quiet from the end of peak tourist season but not yet closed for the year.
Alex reads, but I doubt he keeps murder mysteries and romances nearby.
Our car turns onto Pier 6, and after Alex presents his credentials to security, the car rolls down the concrete pier and stops in front of a sleek black helicopter.
My door opens, and suddenly I’m on the surface of an inhospitable planet.
Not New York. Another helicopter is taking off at an adjacent pad, and I’m both blinded by my own hair and deafened by the chopping of the blades as I stand up. I don’t know where to walk. I think I’m supposed to wait for the door to be opened or my luggage to be loaded.
I’m beginning to feel overwhelmed when I feel hands on my shoulders. Alex holds me steady. I don’t know if my insides are quivering from his touch or the violent pounding of the helicopter blades.
Bruce slides the door open, and once my bag is loaded into a luggage compartment near the cockpit, Alex takes a graceful step up into the helicopter and turns to offer me his hand.
I take it but wuss out on making eye contact with him this close up.
I pretend I’m super concerned with my footing as I’m pulled inside the cabin. The seats are dark-brown leather. There are three forward-facing seats and another trio that look backwards.
Alex sits on the far end of the rear-facing seats, and I sit across from him. This way I have a window seat without sitting on the opposite side of the helicopter as him.
It’s loud in here, too, and he pulls a headset down from above his head. I reach up and do the same. There’s a microphone, too.
“Does this thing work?” I say aloud.
“Roger.” Alex’s velvety voice rings clear in my ears.
A white-haired pilot climbs into the cockpit next to Bruce, and after switching a half dozen different buttons and dials, he puts on his headset.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Blackwell.”
“How’re you doing, Charles?”
“We’ve got clear skies and a light northeasterly wind. Can’t ask for much more.”
Alex smiles and adjusts his microphone over his mouth. “How about we go for a record today, Charles.”
“Oh, I won’t say no to a challenge.”
I think of protesting and asking if we could go out to the Statue of Liberty and around the entire island of Manhattan. But this helicopter even looks fast.
I have a feeling a quick flight might be just as much fun as an overhead tour of the city. I feel as taut as a bowstring as the motor starts to whirl. It churns to life and builds to a pounding intensity. I can hear the pilot communicating with the tower for lift-off.
I must’ve tensed too much, because Alex leans forward and puts both hands on my knees. “Hey.”
I look up into his eyes. Glacial blue. They distract me, and then his eyes brighten as he smiles. “This is going to be fun . Trust me.”
All I can do is nod. Suddenly my stomach drops out from under me as the helicopter lifts. We spin so we’re facing the East River and then accelerate while gaining altitude at the same time. Alex takes his hands back.
I miss them already. It feels like we’re on a rollercoaster until we level out at what I guess is a thousand feet.
We’re taller than most of the skyscrapers at this height. I look out the window at first until I realize that Alex is doing the same, and then I look at him instead.
He has the slightest grin on his face. It’s an expression I haven’t seen on him before.
Is he thinking about how he rules over this city? Of being young and handsome and at the height of his power?
But I’m mistaken. His expression isn’t cocky, I realize. It’s content.
He notices my gaze, and I turn back to the window a little too quickly, knowing I’ve been caught. This situation would be on the verge of being awkward if there was pressure to talk, but with the headsets on the same channel as the pilot, I don’t feel any.
I have no clue what to say in this situation anyway. Gee, don’t the people look like ants? I just enjoy the ride while Alex pulls out his laptop and gets to work as casually as if he were at a coffee shop.
Once the adrenaline wears off, I find myself fighting sleep. There’s something about the white noise and the light sensation of movement that lulls me to sleep. I forgot to take a Ritalin. This all happened so fast. Shit.
I realize I forgot to pack them. That’s okay. I’ve been doing better lately anyway. This will just be a test. But right now, I don’t care how socially acceptable it is to nap on planes, trains, and automobiles. I don’t want Alex to see me sleeping. Or worse, snoring into the headset.
I pinch my thigh, but the old tricks don’t do me any good. My head bobs heavily. I’ll just rest my eyes, too. It feels so good right now… to keep them closed.