3. Heavenleigh
Heavenleigh
The person in the window seat had on a magenta sleep mask, matching noise-canceling headphones, and one of those cute animal pillows.
I instantly understood that this was a person terrified of flying, and given how their mouth was already slightly open and they were breathing softly, I figured they were either drunk or well medicated.
I looked at their lap, taking a quick glance to confirm they already had their seat belt on before stuffing my bag under my seat and securing my own around my waist.
The woman with the aisle seat was already muttering under her breath about me squirming too much.
Awesome. Bending back down, I grabbed my phone from the side pocket of my bag and my earbuds.
After making sure the device was on airplane mode, I connected to the Wi-Fi and started planning the next few days.
Yara deserved to be spoiled, and I was going to make sure that happened.
Full spa treatment. She’d mentioned her brother’s new girlfriend was coming, so I was careful to include the other woman.
If Yara was inviting her to this impromptu destination wedding, she must be special to my bestie.
Thankfully, the hotel Yara had chosen was perfect for everything.
It even had a club on the fourteenth floor and a rooftop restaurant.
Mimosas at dawn. Massages on the beach midafternoon.
Cocktails at sunset. Other than the occasional glass of champagne, I rarely drank, which Yara had always respected without me having to dive too deep into my reasons for avoiding alcohol.
It was one of the things I adored about my college roommate and best friend.
She didn’t push boundaries, which, in my personal experience, was a rare trait in people.
I was scrolling through the different packages the hotel’s spa offered when the woman beside me roughly nudged me off my armrest. Having yet to turn on a playlist, I heard her when she grumbled something about me hogging her personal space.
Biting the inside of my cheek, I fought a laugh.
I was the middle child of five—that alone had prepared me for moments like this.
Especially when I was stuck between Bliss and Damien in the middle row of the minivan my mom had preferred to drive until Damien hit his teens.
By then, my older sisters were married, and Mom needed more cargo space for all the gear my baby brother required for his many, many extracurriculars.
If the aisle woman had been nice about it, I would have attempted to make myself smaller to minimize my personal space and give her more room. Instead, she was being a Grade A bitch, and I was feeling petty.
Shifting, I spread my legs, just a little, while staying within my limited assigned area. Her frustrated huff was music to my ears. Glancing at her in my peripheral, I noticed her face turn a fun shade of red as her mouth moved, talking to herself so low I couldn’t hear what she was saying.
Turning on my latest work playlist, I went back to checking out the spa packages.
I found a build-your-own experience, and I got lost in that while the flight attendants did the safety protocol spiel.
My arm got bumped three more times in less than a minute.
Pressing my lips together hard, I bent again and pulled out my current book.
No matter what book I read, I put the same dust jacket on it to protect it.
I’d made it myself a while back, a cute tarot card of a girl, her dark hair up in a bun, a book covering half her face.
At the bottom of the card, it read “The Stabber,” with blood dripping from each letter.
It was fairly effective in keeping people from talking to me when I was reading in public.
My neighbor took one look at the book, and some of the vibrant red of her face drained away.
I settled more comfortably and got into my book.
Arella had given me this one a while back when she was approached to play the lead FMC in a limited series.
That was usually how she told us what her next project was going to be without breaking her contract with the studio.
I’d been so busy, though, I’d only recently started reading it.
Now Arella was on location for the series, and I could unbiasedly admit the casting director had picked perfectly. I would be the first person to roast my sister if I thought she wasn’t suitable for a role. That was one of the perks of being a sister, in my opinion.
I was so lost in the chapter, the music in my ears masking any close chatter, that I didn’t notice when the change happened. Given that I was traveling alone, that was a stupid, rookie mistake to make. It wasn’t until my arm was bumped again that I lifted my eyes from the page.
All the air suddenly felt trapped in my lungs as I found myself staring into a pair of russet-brown eyes.
Then I saw the deep-set laugh lines. If he had those, the likelihood of his being a grumpy bastard was lower.
Strong nose, with a hint of a bump. I couldn’t tell from first glance if that was a natural feature or from being broken.
A scruff-style beard, just long enough to look like it was on purpose.
Sandy-blond, both on his face and his head.
Each feature came into focus quickly, and every time, I was drawn back to his eyes. Dark blond lashes on the thick side, but not overly long. Those damn lines that made me want to know what his laugh sounded like, to the point the not-knowing felt like a physical ache in the center of my chest.
Dropping the book on my lap, I pulled out the earbuds. “Um, hi?”
“Hi.”
Then reality returned as the plane began to build speed. I glanced around, wondering what weird twilight zone I’d fallen into where the annoying woman from earlier had disappeared and this hot man was suddenly in her place.
“What is happening right now?” I muttered to myself, and I was instantly rewarded with the laugh I’d been aching to hear.
“So, I need you to have an open mind,” he said, his eyes darkening.
All I could do was blink at him. He had no way of knowing it—yet—but I was the most open-minded person he was ever likely to meet.
I picked up on people’s vibes easily. All my life, I’d had to be careful about who I made friends with.
From kindergarten to senior year, not a single person I went to school with didn’t know my family, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
My classmates were all from rich families, some of them richer, bigger celebrities, more powerful connections.
It should have bonded us, when really, all it did was distance us from one another.
I learned quickly who to avoid from nothing more than the way they turned their head and looked at a person when spoken to.
Mom called it an empathic ability. I called it survival.
Not so much a life-and-death-situation kind of survival.
More like protecting my personal space, my mental health, and my heart.
Friendly people were not always friend material.
They could hide their agenda behind a sweet smile.
But I’d always been able to quickly sift through the pretenders.
This guy wasn’t being smug or arrogant, simply confident. And that was hot. I liked men who went after what they wanted, without being a complete asshole about it. As if they were giving you a gift just by acknowledging you. That crap was not attractive.
“I saw you when you came on the plane, and something told me you were about to change my life. Then you bounced down the aisle back here. And as you disappeared from view, I made a split-second decision. I traded my first-class seat to that red-faced lady for the chance to spend the next six hours getting to know you.”
My mouth opened, then closed, words deserting me as I stared at him. Apparently I’d lost the ability to make basic conversation. All his hotness had fried my damn brain.
“If this is freaking you out, just say the word, and I will pay someone to swap seats again. That’s an open invitation if at any point I make you uncomfortable.
I don’t want you to think this is a line I use.
Quite honestly, I’ve never done anything this spontaneous in my life.
I am the clearheaded one in my family. If either of my siblings could see me right this minute, they would swear I’d been abducted and replaced by a clone. ”
His voice was deep and soothing. Even as nervous as he must have been right then, the tempo didn’t shift.
I almost leaned closer. Now that I had heard his laugh, I had the overwhelming urge to know what he smelled like, but unless I got up close and personal with him, that was unlikely with all the other overpowering scents in the cramped confines of the plane.
“My name is Jacob. Everyone but my mother calls me Jake. Harvard law degree, second in my class. My brother roasts me every Christmas because I could have been first if I’d just paid more attention in contract law.
I excel at contracts. Which my sister assures me is the most mind-numbingly boring thing in the world, but I love a well-written contract.
Having the dos and don’ts outlined in advance is comforting, from my perspective.
It’s a control thing. And maybe first-sibling syndrome. ”
Gods, the confidence in his voice, even as he rambled, was sexy. And that rambling mixed with a hint of vulnerability in his eyes was sweet, endearing.
Heart-melting.
Ah fuck, I was in so much trouble.
“Which I am, by the way. A first sibling, I mean. Eldest of three. And I would do just about anything to know your name, little bunny.”
He smiled again, and my belly filled with butterflies.
“Ven,” I squeaked out, then cleared my throat. “My name is Ven.”
As enthralling as he was, I wasn’t a complete idiot.
Stranger danger and all that bullshit. I had low impulse control, not a low IQ.
There was a difference. I never—never, ever—gave anyone I just met my government name.
It wasn’t a moniker people were likely to forget, at least not my full first name.
Most people thought my parents were hippies if they got close enough to find out what my name really was, and I was happy to let them think that.
Anything was fine as long as they didn’t connect me back to my dad.
And since Arella’s stardom, my sister as well.
We looked similar enough for people to connect the dots if they knew my full name.
Of the four of us girls, Arella and I looked the most alike, although it was very obvious we were all sisters.
No one had ever mistaken us for twins, but I’d gotten far too many, “Did anyone ever tell you that you look just like Arella Stevenson-Moreitti?”
Which never ended well for anyone, especially me. I got chased by the paparazzi way too often. There was no chance in hell I was going to take the risk of that happening this weekend. Not even for a guy with the most amazing eyes that could freaking hypnotize me.
For one, because all attention needed to be on Yara, and having a pack of camera-wielding jerk-offs ambushing us all weekend would make that impossible.
Also, and the most important part of all, my dad could absolutely not know.
If he saw me in the tabloids, not home where he expected me to be, being chased by vultures with cameras and no security for protection, he would be beyond upset. His stress levels were already up.
After the scare of almost losing him when he’d needed a liver transplant, I got nervous any time he so much as got a sniffle. Each of my siblings was the same way. It wasn’t mentally healthy how the five of us coddled him in an attempt to minimize his stress levels.
“But I think I like ‘bunny’ more,” I admitted, switching off all thoughts of my dad for the moment.
Jake’s smile intensified, the sight sending little sparks straight to my core. Damn. Smiles should not hold that kind of power.
“I don’t know about the first-sibling syndrome. I’m the middle child.” That was all I was going to share about my immediate family. Any number of people could have been listening, and I was not going to give more context clues to who I was.
If Jake was the real deal, though, I might share more with him in private.
Another shot of electricity zinged through me, warming my center at the thought of being alone with this man. That was when it really hit me.
The godsdamn universe had sent me my one.