Chapter 11
Eleven
Ella sits beside me in the back seat of the chauffeured Rolls Royce.
She’s a tight little knot, her legs crossed, her arms fitted tightly across her chest. She vibrates with a nervous energy, her knee shaking, her toe tapping against the door.
She chews on her full bottom lip and plays with a silver locket on an almost translucent silver chain that she wears around her neck.
I shoot her a glare, straightening my tie. But she doesn’t notice as she stares out her window, her expression one of distinct worry. She’s new to this; new to a life of reading into my smallest tics to find out what mood I’m in.
I hate it, but what other choice do either of us have? The press will froth at the mouth at even a whiff of what has happened in the last twelve hours.
I check the satchel that I just pulled off the blackmailing journalist. An uncomfortable flashback of how black his blood appeared as it pooled beside him appears in my mind, unbidden. It’s rather distasteful.
Then again, I’m still a bit shaken after watching him die.
I sift through his bag carefully, seeing that he left behind two spiral-bound notebooks, a thin silver laptop, his camcorder, and a small mini-cassette tape recorder. Interesting that he would have all of these devices even though one would think a cell phone would suffice in this day and age.
Closing the satchel, I sigh silently and turn my eyes toward the window.
When Ella begins to drum her fingers on the leather seat between us, I snake out a hand and catch hers. She jumps and yanks her hand back as if I had burned her, blinking at me as if I had somehow just appeared beside her.
“Stop fidgeting,” I intone.
She looks at me, her dark eyes rimmed with long lashes looking impossibly wide. “What?”
Her accent is so very American, with elongated vowels and short, rounded consonants. My lips flatten as I take in her simple white sundress, her ample amount of luscious skin at her collarbones and her miles of perfectly toned legs.
God, she looks so young. So very young, so tempting, so very off-limits. Her face is so open and earnest, things about her that I desired mere hours ago.
Now, I feel that it’s only right that I warn her. Leaning toward her, I snare her hand again and make heavy eye contact with her.
“I don’t think you understand just who I am.
I own a company that employs almost three quarters of the world’s journalists and news anchors.
That includes newspapers and news channels all over the globe.
If any reporter gets so much as a hint that there is a story between us, they will rip us apart in search of it.
The press are vicious and cruel but ultimately, they are smarter than I give them credit for.
It’s important to be on your guard every fucking minute of every day. ”
“Is this all because of you? Because you are a married man who has a lot of money?”
Flicking my hand in a dismissive gesture, I narrow my gaze at her. “It’s not the money that’s at issue here. It’s the power that I wield. I’m a wealthy CEO of a media empire with close family connections to the future prime minister of England.”
She frowns. “And if you were single, there would be no story for anyone to report. But you are a married man.”
I can feel a shiver of heat on the back of my neck. It’s been a long time since anyone has made me feel this way, as if I were a naughty little boy.
“That’s not the whole picture. And for your information, I’m separated from my wife.”
Ella studies me for a moment. “Maybe we should tell a reporter that. Get out in front of it so that we can’t be blackmailed.”
My eyebrows rise. Frankly, I’m surprised that she would already have a strategy in mind for spinning the truth.
“That’s not an option here.”
She gives me a quizzical look then shakes her head. “I don’t understand why you would say that.”
I give her a thin, humorless smile. “You’ll see why in just a minute.”
Ella opens her mouth to reply but the driver rolls down the partition at that moment.
“Sir? We are about to arrive at Teterboro and it looks like there are a lot of press waiting outside the gates of the airplane’s hangar.”
Ella clamps her jaw shut and places her hand against the window, looking out.
I keep my eyes trained on her as the limo begins to slow.
Ahead of us, I can make out a howling, seething pack of reporters, each one a neat set with a microphone and cameraman at the ready.
Press vans litter both sides of the road, antennae all waiting, hungry and ready to transmit the tiniest scrap of information to the waiting world.
Ella tenses up and presses her face to the window as the hangar’s gate slowly begins to open. The reporters begin closing in on our vehicle, pounding on the windows, shouting into their microphones.
“Oh my god,” she mouths, gaping as the limo starts plowing its way slowly through the crowd. She looks at me, clutching her necklace. “They are putting a lot of trust in your driver by assuming that he’s not just going to floor the engine and drive into them.”
Shrugging a shoulder, I sit back with a heavy sigh.
“This is the least amount of press we are going to get from here on out. When we go across the pond, the rules about how the press operates will change. Not to mention the public audience’s interest will immediately quadruple. It’s best to be prepared.”
Ella shoots me a helpless look. “Why would you willingly subject yourself to this? It’s like torture.”
I just give her another shrug.
“Welcome to fame, sweetheart.”
The limousine fights its way along the road until we reach the hangar, where our driver pulls inside.
The limo stops right by one of my top of the line twenty-person private planes.
The plane beckons, its stairs unfurled for us to board.
Another limousine is parked just on the other side of the aircraft, leaving no doubt that my brother has arrived.
Ella starts to open the door but I stop her, shaking my head and looking out the window. Behind me, two men in dark coveralls wheel the heavy hangar door shut.
“Okay.” I flick my fingers dismissively. “You can go now.”
She cuts me a sideways look and makes a soft sound of displeasure as she opens her door. Grabbing the satchel, I climb out of the car and stretch; the limousine isn’t the right size for me and has been comically small since I was a teenager.
Ella looks at me, anxiety written plainly across her face. I realize that she’s waiting for me to lead her over to the plane.
I press my lips together. How quaint. The sense that I’m bringing someone new into my ritzy uppercuts lifestyle is something I’ve never really felt before.
“Come on.” I grab Ella’s arm and haul her over to the stairs, where a uniformed steward waits in his neatly starched white shirt and navy slacks.
“Good morning, sir, ma’am.” He bows his head. “I’m Ricardo and I will be flying with you today. May I help you with anything?”
Lifting my chin, I nod toward the car. “Make sure our bags are brought over, will you?”
“May I take your bag, sir?”
He indicates the satchel that I’ve flung over my shoulder. I look down my nose at him, answering coldly.
“No, you may not. Just let us get on the fucking plane so we can take off.”
Ricardo pales a little at my growled tone, but I just ignore it.
Ushering Ella up the stairs, I try not to stare at her legs. Really, I do. But they are right there before me, just as toned and lovely as they felt when she wrapped them around my body and rocked against me—
Ella disappears into the plane, replaced by my brother James, who steps out onto the air strip. He casts a coy glance toward Ella’s disappearing figure.
“You’ve brought a friend along for the ride.”
His tone is light, his words joking. I wave him off.
“Christ. Will you move? The sooner we are all inside the damn plane, the sooner we will be airborne.”
My brother’s smile drops away and he steps back, muttering. “Prick.”
I push past him and into the cabin. The plane is separated into two clearly defined spaces.
This is the smaller of the two spaces, with four pairs of cream-colored leather seats.
I push past the neat divider and into the larger cabin, where there are several more sets of the same seats at the front and back, coupled with long cream colored benches in between.
My personal assistant Natasha is here, dressed in tight black leather pants and a lose black tunic. She’s sitting in the first row of seats with a pile of paperwork and an open laptop spread out before her. When my eye falls on her, she rises, inclining her blonde head.
“Sir Grayrose,” she says. Her eyes slide over to Ella, who is standing in the middle of the cabin looking like she’s never been on a fucking plane before. “Feel like introductions?”
I screw up my mouth. “This is Ella. She’ll be temporarily filling the au pair position while I try to find someone more permanent.”
Natasha gives Ella a startled look, seeming to do a double take. She holds out a hand to Ella, who stumbles forward and shakes it.
“Natasha. I’ve been working closely with Sir Grayrose for three years.”
I shrug a shoulder. “Natasha is an excellent personal assistant. The best money can buy. Isn’t that right?”
Natasha flushes and tosses her head, her gaze sliding back to Ella. “Yes, sir.”
“You’ll do what you can to make her more comfortable, I’m sure.”
Natasha smirks faintly but just inclines her head. “Of course, sir. I’m just working on pulling the stats for last month’s worldwide distribution. Will there be anything else you need from me right now? A pillow? A bottle of water?”
Before I can answer, Natasha turns and barks an order toward the galley in the back of the plane. “Get everyone something to drink, please!” She pulls a face, looking back to me. There is a bustle of activity as Riccardo rushes by, a frown worn into his face.
“I swear, they act like we don’t pay them enough,” Natasha gripes, not bothering to lower her voice. Her eyes swing to Ella and she smirks again. “You’ll soon find out that the Grayrose family is more than generous with paying even the lowest ranked employees.”
“You say that as if you’re one of the family.” Ella gives her a questioning glance. “But you aren’t, right?”
Natasha flushes and she glares at Ella. “I’ve been in the family’s employ longer than anyone.”
“Really?” Ella cocks her head. “Three years, huh?”
My lips twitch. If Natasha was trying to impress me, it didn’t work. Pressing my lips into a thin line, I turn to Ella.
“Well? Don’t just stand there,” I demand. “Find a seat.”
Collapsing onto one of the long benches, I sling the satchel down beside me. Ella sits down across from me, her eyes wide, her mouth pursed like she’s just tasted something sour. She notices me looking and straightens her posture, tossing her long silky mane of hair.
The defiant look in her eyes causes a solitary shiver to slide down my spine. My cock twitches and I’m suddenly glad I’m sitting down.
For a long moment, something sizzles between us, tension filling the air as our eyes lock. I lick my lips, conscious of the electric memory of her sweet taste.
James shatters the moment by passing between us, severing our connection as he leans down to look me in the eye.
“What are you doing here, Keiran?” he asks quietly. “Hmm? Bringing that American little girl you picked up last night back to the hotel? What is going on in that mind of yours, I wonder…”
Riccardo clears his throat, a tray of drinks balanced on his arm. “Sirs? We are ready to taxi. If you’ll be seated, I have bottles of water and hot towels ready…”
“Sit down,” I order James. “The sooner we have this trip behind us, the better.”
James gives me a cocky grin and sits just on the other side of the journalist’s satchel.
“Riccardo! Make me a proper drink. I want some of that Finnish vodka over ice.”
Riccardo places two bottles of water on the table nearest me and then vanishes back toward the galley. I sit back, my gaze wandering back to Ella. Taking a sip from the bottle, I purposely release a satiated gasp.
But looking at Ella sitting across from me, I know that’s a performance. I’m far from satisfied.
In fact, I’m hungry for something that isn’t on the menu. And now?
I’m almost certainly making my hunger worse by bringing Ella along to the hotel. But I don’t make mistakes, at least not publicly.
So I sit back and close my eyes as the plane starts to taxi out of the hangar.