Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
In which the universe gifts me a most unexpected gift, delivered straight into my lap. Goodbye, boredom.
So far, traveling to Melbourne had not miraculously cured me of my ennui—not that I had expected it to.
Here I was, sitting in the relatively comfy first-class seat of an airplane, the seat next to me empty since Oliver had purchased them both to guarantee me privacy, and all I felt was a tired bleakness. Plus an unhealthy dose of annoyance that I was forced to fly commercial.
The first leg to LA hadn’t been too bad, and I’d mostly slept on the second stretch to Sydney. But now I’d switched from a massive, comfortable plane to a much smaller one—was this what people called a puddle jumper?—where first class didn’t exist and business class was a joke. Even with the empty seat next to me, it was cramped.
On a call that morning—wait, or was it yesterday? God, my sense of time was messed up now—Oliver had assured me it would be good for me to mingle with normal people. The implication that I wasn’t normal hadn’t been lost on me, but subtlety had never been Oliver’s strong point. If he hadn’t been so damn good at his job, I would’ve fired him for being an annoying know-it-all ages ago.
After which, I’d probably have fucked the living daylights out of him because, hello, that ass. But alas, he’d somehow made himself indispensable to me, and I hated and respected him for that in equal measure.
“Prosecco, Mr. Sullivan?”
I sighed as I turned my gaze toward the impeccably dressed flight attendant. “Sure, why not?”
If I had to endure this sober, I might end up either killing or fucking someone. Right now, it was a fifty-fifty toss-up as to which direction it was headed.
I accepted the glass and took a sip. Jesus fuck, had they raided the Dollar Store for this absolute piss of a drink? I could barely keep my face from distorting. Luckily, the flight attendant had already moved on, and her colleague was starting with the announcements.
“We’re waiting for the last few passengers from a delayed connecting flight, and then boarding will be complete.”
I tuned her out, staring out the oval window, watching the last luggage loaded onto the plane as I downed the sorry excuse for prosecco. I consoled myself with the idea that shitty prosecco was still alcohol, and hopefully, it would help me sleep. The flight was only an hour and a half long, but it was long enough to catch a much-needed nap.
“Thank god we made it!” a fifty-something woman wearing the ugliest dress in the world panted as she stormed onto the aircraft. Her husband followed right behind her, looking as if he wouldn’t have minded if he’d missed the flight. Same, dude. Same.
“Welcome aboard,” the flight attendant greeted them with a toothy smile. Two more people made their way onto the plane, but I directed my attention out the window again.
“Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you,” came the breathy reply from another guy who entered the plane.
A dull clunk, and then my glass flew out of my hand as someone toppled over the empty seat next to me and landed in my lap. The prosecco sprayed my face as I instinctively held on to whoever had face-planted into me. I spluttered an expletive.
“Mr. Sullivan!”
The flight attendant sounded mortified. Was it her colleague who had stumbled and fallen? I blinked the prosecco out of my eyes and focused on the person on my lap. My hands encountered hard muscles, not the softness of a female body, and when I could finally see again, I was staring into eyes the color of tropical seas, framed by impossibly long lashes. The young man sprawled across me grinned, his full lips curving into a lazy smile that sent an unexpected jolt through my body.
Oh, he was gorgeous. His eyes were captivating, impossibly blue oceans, and he looked like a surfer with his dirty-blond hair and tanned face. He had the age for it too. He couldn’t be older than twenty-five. Apparently, I had found myself a new type because my body reacted.
“Oh,” he said, not moving a muscle.
“Oh, indeed,” I said dryly. “Were you planning on getting up anytime soon, or was it your intention to spend the rest of the flight on my lap?”
I expected him to crawl off me in embarrassment, but instead, a slow smile spread across his full lips. “I wasn’t aware that was an option.”
Cheeky little shit. “Well, traveling business class does come with certain perks.”
He laughed, a rich sound that seemed to vibrate through me. “So I’m discovering. You make one hell of a landing pad.”
Our eyes held, and all my previous boredom vanished. I had no clue who this guy was, though he looked oddly familiar, but I was hell-bent on finding out.
“Sir, are you hurt?”
The flight attendant pulled on the guy’s legs, and he finally looked away. I reluctantly let go of him, and he slid to his feet in an elegant move. As he shifted to stand, his thigh brushed against my rapidly hardening cock. I bit back a groan, equal parts mortified and aroused. What the hell was happening to me?
“Sorry about that,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Some asshole left their bag in the aisle. Guess the universe decided I needed a change in seating arrangements.”
“Mr. Sullivan, I’m so sorry.”
The flight attendant was clearly more concerned about me than the surprise that had landed in my lap. “I’m fine.”
Well, other than the crappy prosecco still dripping from my face. Yuck, that would soon become sticky and gross. Not the kind of facial I preferred.
“You need to get to your seat,” the flight attendant said, her tone considerably cooler as she addressed the guy. “What seat are you in?”
“Er, 58A, I think. Somewhere all the way in the back.”
I glanced at the empty seat beside me, an idea forming. “You know, I actually have an extra seat booked. If you’d like to avoid any more in-flight acrobatics, you’re welcome to join me.”
His eyes lit up, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well, aren’t you the gentleman? I’d be crazy to turn down such a generous offer.”
“Mr. Sullivan, I don’t think —”
I cut her off with a quirk of an eyebrow. “Considering I booked two seats, I would think I have the right to decide who gets to use it.”
She blushed. “Of course. Let me get you some towelettes so you can get cleaned up.”
“That would be most appreciated, thank you.”
She left, and those bright-blue eyes found mine again. “Do you always reward people who fall into your lap by offering them the seat next to you?”
Fuck, he was cheeky. I loved it. “I have no idea. This is a first for me.”
“Yeah? I can’t imagine I’m the first man to ever sit in your lap.”
I grinned. “Not by far, but usually, it’s planned and with a bit more grace.”
He shrugged, then hoisted the ratty backpack he’d been wearing into the overhead bin and plopped into the seat next to me. “You sure you want me here? You seem more like a guy who appreciates being left alone.”
He wasn’t wrong about that one. “Every now and then, I like to take a risk.”
“So I’m a risk?”
“I don’t know. Are you? What are you planning to do for the next hour and a half?”
The shit-eating grin he flashed me shot straight to my cock. It looked like we were on the same page.
“What’s your name? Or do I call you Mr. Sullivan?”
I hesitated. If I gave him my name, he might recognize it, which could change everything. Mr. Sullivan was common enough, but combined with my first name, the chances of him knowing who I was were high. Still, lying didn’t feel right either. “Cashell. Cash.”
“Which one is it?”
Huh, interesting. He hadn’t reacted at all to my name. Did he not recognize it? “Cash is fine.”
He stuck out his hand. “I’m Palmer, but everyone calls me Ocean.”
“Because of your eyes.”
He nodded.
“They’re remarkable.”
“Thank you. By the way, I already knew who you were.”
So he had recognized me. “Then why did you ask for my name?”
He shrugged. “Wanted to give you the choice to not reveal your identity.”
I cocked my head, studying him. He seemed utterly unimpressed, which was a new experience for me. But I couldn’t deny that I liked it, just like I appreciated him giving me the choice of hiding behind a false name.
“Here you go, Mr. Sullivan.” The flight attendant handed me some wet wipes. “I do apologize for this…mishap.”
The latter was said with a sharp look of disdain in Ocean’s direction.
“No harm done, but maybe you could bring me a new glass of prosecco? And I’m sure Mr.…”
Fuck, I didn’t know his last name.
“Levine,” Ocean helpfully supplied.
“…Mr. Levine would like a glass as well.”
“Absolutely,” she said.
Ocean Levine. Something tickled at the back of my brain, the idea that I had met him before coming back in full force. Palmer Levine. Oh shit. “You’re Preston’s son.”
Preston Levine, my once best friend who had screwed me over so hard and deep that even now, fifteen years later, his betrayal still lay bitter on my tongue.
Ocean met my eyes. “Yes.”
“That’s why you recognized me.”
He snorted. “I haven’t seen you since I was, what, eight or nine years old?”
“Your father never mentioned me?”
Ocean hesitated, and for the first time, his open expression clouded over. “He used to.”
Not anymore then. I guessed he wasn’t as affected by our parting then as I was because I often thought of him, wondering where things had gone so horribly wrong. Or how I could’ve misjudged him so badly, thinking he was my friend.
“Is it a problem for you?” Ocean asked.
Was it? I didn’t even know where to start on that one. Ocean had complications written all over him, but that had never stopped me before. Of course I could also use this situation to my advantage. What better revenge than fucking Preston’s son?
Shame filled me at the thought. How could I even consider it? I was better than that. I might not have high standards when it came to sex, and I could certainly be described as indiscriminate in choosing my partners, but I’d never used sex as a tool. Yeah, a tool in the sense of releasing pent-up frustration, but never more than that.
“You have a good poker face,” Ocean said. “I can’t tell at all what you’re thinking, and I’m usually pretty good at reading people.”
“It comes in handy in my world.”
“I bet. It’s hard to negotiate with a man when he provides you with zero clues on what he’s thinking.”
Funny, but I liked the idea of Ocean studying me with that much scrutiny. “Is that what we’re doing here, negotiating?”
Another shrug. “You tell me. I’m still awaiting your verdict on whether my parentage is an issue for you.”
“It’s not a problem for you?”
“I couldn’t possibly care less about my father or his opinions on anything, let alone my personal life and choices.”
Of course. “You’re gay. Or at least, not straight.”
I should at least allow for the possibility that he was pan or bi.
“Gay, and yes. I’m sure the irony isn’t lost on you.”
No, it wasn’t, yet it filled me with sadness too. Ocean deserved better. The very least parents could do was love their children unconditionally. That seemed like too much to ask for many though, including Preston. Asshole.
“No, your parentage is not an issue for me.”
I’d made up my mind. We’d keep Preston out of this—whatever this was.
“So, Cash,” Ocean said, turning those piercing eyes on me. “What brings a high-flying businessman like yourself to Melbourne? I’m assuming it’s a business deal?”
I chuckled. “How did you guess?”
“Let’s just say you’ve got that ‘important man on an important mission’ vibe,” he teased, his knee brushing against mine.
“Guilty as charged. It’s a business trip, though my assistant is on my ass about squeezing in some downtime.”
Ocean leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, if you need a tour guide, I happen to know all the best spots. Both on and off the beaten path.”
My breath caught. I couldn’t remember the last time someone had been so bold with me. It was refreshing. “I might take you up on that,” I said, shocking myself.
Ocean’s grin widened. “I was hoping you’d say that. So tell me, Cash, what does a guy like you do for fun when he’s not conquering the business world?”
I hesitated, realizing I didn’t have a good answer. When was the last time I’d done anything purely for enjoyment?
Ocean must have sensed my discomfort because he quickly added, “Let me guess, workaholic?”
I laughed, grateful for the out. “Is it that obvious?”
“It’s never too late to change. Maybe now’s the time to build in some fun.”
Maybe it was. Maybe meeting Ocean was the perfect excuse to have some fun—even if it wasn’t quite the kind that Oliver had in mind.
I waited until the flight attendant had collected our glasses, then turned toward Ocean. “So, on a scale of not at all to deeply repentant, how guilty do you feel about crashing into me like that?”