Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
Focus on doing more of what makes you feel alive.
—From Remy’s Badass Bitch Affirmations
Remy
The man was a pain in her ass.
She’d groused and grumbled at him all week as they’d staged public dates to ‘feed the beast,’ all under Melody’s careful guidance. But, Sebastian Wheatley refused to reveal his plan for the weekend. Remy wouldn’t stoop to pleading…but it was tempting.
Even when it came time to pack, he was cagey.
Remy had thought she’d get a clue about what he’d cooked up from what he instructed her to bring.
Instead, Jared—now ensconced in a nearby townhouse on Sebastian’s dime—had apparently purchased clothes for her and packed a monogrammed titanium set of TUMI luggage.
Remy had the distinct, somewhat-nauseating sense it had been more expensive than she wanted to know.
The commercial flight they’d boarded early that morning crept to the gate, and the anticipatory butterflies in her belly began a renewed tizzy.
Remy had been surprised that Sebastian wouldn’t fly private, remembering his recent flight from LA to Charlottesville.
But he’d opined about reducing his carbon footprint and explained the specialized service he used, which provided private lounges and sometimes direct tarmac transportation to and from the plane—though not in this case.
She and Sebastian had been the last to board, and during the flight, he’d prepped her to be the first to deplane.
He’d already also signed autographs for the entire plane crew, leaning on the fancy tray he’d extended from the center console of the first-class seat.
Remy still didn’t know their destination, only that they’d been in the air for about two hours.
Earlier, as they’d headed from the private lounge to the boarding area, he’d put a mask on her.
Remy was grateful no one else was at the gate at that point or she’d have felt ridiculous.
Thankfully he removed it as soon as they entered the jetway.
Then he’d dramatically placed headphones over her ears so she wouldn’t hear the pilot’s announcement at takeoff, grinning like a clown as he zipped his lips.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Miami.” The pilot’s voice crackled over the speaker and Remy’s gaze slammed into Sebastian’s. A massive smile spread across his handsome face, eyes twinkling. Miami?
“You may have heard we have notable guests with us today. Actor Bash Wheatley and his—and I quote—‘lady love and queen’ Arabella are going on a special date. He’s asked us to be a small part of it.
Your flight attendants have shared your instructions, so this is your big moment.
Are you ready? Ladies and gentlemen, start your engines! ”
Sounds of passengers making loud vrooming and engine noises filled the plane around them, coupled with waves of laughter and clapping. Across the aisle, a grinning couple held up their phones to record them.
Remy slowly turned to Sebastian, careful to keep her face neutral as her heart beat a furious tattoo of shock and excitement. “What did you do?”
“Welcome to Miami, my queen. I know that’s more typically the way to start a NASCAR race, but it worked better.
Artistic license.” He shrugged elegantly with a wink that did strange things to her stomach.
“Chop chop, Arabella. We better get a move on. The Sprint Race begins at noon and Qualifying is at four. We have Palm Club passes, and I don’t want to miss a minute of Filthy F1. ”