Chapter 13
JUNO
Istared out the window of the Uber as we pulled up to a private hangar at Van Nuys Airport. Of course. Of course he had a private plane.
The sleek white jet sat on the tarmac. Hollis stood near the stairs, talking to Toby, who was already filming something on his phone. Both of them looked annoyingly relaxed, like this was just an average day.
Hollis wore gray jogging pants that of course looked fucking hot, along with a T-shirt and Nikes. He looked like he could be heading to the gym or lounging around the house.
Men had it so easy.
I grabbed my garment bag and suitcase from the trunk, tipping the driver before I started the walk across the tarmac. I had looked up the address he sent me last night and figured out pretty quick it wasn’t LAX.
I should have known what he was planning when he told Kari he’d handle the travel arrangements.
Hollis spotted me and waved. That damn smile spread across his face.
“Of course you have a private plane,” I called out when I got close enough.
He shrugged, still smiling. “It’s more of a family plane. We all share it.”
“How nice for you.”
“You’re welcome to fly commercial if it offends you,” he said, his tone light but with an edge. “Or stay home. I can handle the meeting myself.”
I stopped in front of him, adjusting my grip on my bags. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“That you are.” He gestured toward the plane. “After you.”
“Are you planning on documenting this meeting?” I asked Toby.
“Nope. I was just getting a few shots, and once the deal is done, I’ll put together another reel.”
I nodded. “Great.”
I started up the stairs without looking back.
The interior of the plane was exactly what I’d expected for someone with his wealth.
Cream-colored leather seats, dark wood accents with gold accents, and enough legroom that I could probably do yoga if I wanted to.
A flight attendant greeted me with a professional smile and offered to take my bags.
I settled into one of the seats by the window, trying not to feel impressed by the luxury surrounding me. This was nothing. Just transportation. A way to get from Point A to Point B without screaming babies and feeling like I was wallowing in a petri dish.
Hollis boarded a minute later.
“Want anything to drink before we take off?” the flight attendant asked.
“Water’s fine,” I said.
Hollis dropped into the seat across from me, stretching his long legs out like he owned the place. Which, technically, his family did.
“Comfortable?” he asked.
“It’s adequate.”
He laughed. “I won’t tell my parents you referred to their jet as adequate.”
The flight attendant brought me a Perrier, then disappeared toward the front of the cabin. The engines started up with a low hum.
I pulled out my tablet, intending to review the presentation materials one more time. But I could feel Hollis watching me.
“What?” I asked without looking up.
“Just wondering.”
“Wondering what?”
“Do you have a problem with rich people?”
My head snapped up. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve made a lot of comments and we both know they’re negative.” He leaned forward slightly. “But you’re rich too. You’re not exactly struggling.”
“I’m not private plane rich.”
“So you’re envious?”
“No, I just think this whole company of yours, it’s just a hobby project for a bored rich guy. Once you get bored of this little side quest, you’ll abandon it and move on to something else. Buy a yacht. Invest in crypto. Whatever people like you do when you need a new toy.”
His jaw tightened. For the first time since I’d met him, the easy smile disappeared completely.
I’d hit a nerve.
“I actually want to help people be healthier,” he said. “This isn’t just a passing thing for me. But I don’t need to prove anything to you.”
“Actually, you do.” I met his eyes without flinching. “I’m making the final decision on whether B Well will be a good fit with our company. My father put me in charge of vetting you. So yeah, you absolutely need to prove yourself to me.”
He stared at me for a long moment. The plane started taxiing down the runway, but neither of us looked away.
“Fine,” he said finally. “You’ll see I’m the real deal.”
“I’m looking forward to it.”
The plane lifted off, and I felt the familiar pressure in my ears as we climbed. I turned my attention back to my tablet, but I couldn’t focus on the words. The tension radiating from across the aisle washed over me.
Several minutes passed in silence. The flight attendant came by to offer snacks, which I declined. Hollis accepted something, probably organic and gluten-free and perfectly aligned with his brand.
“How long have you been in the business?” he asked suddenly.
I looked up. His expression had softened slightly, like he was trying to reset the conversation.
“Since I graduated,” I said. “About five years now.”
“You went straight to your dad’s company?”
“I did my internship there. Worked my way up.” I felt defensive saying it, like I needed to justify my position. “I’m a licensed dietitian, which actually requires a lot of work. I earned my spot.”
“I didn’t say you didn’t.”
“But you were thinking it.”
“Actually, I wasn’t.” He took a sip of water. “I was thinking that it must be hard, working for family. People always assume you only got the job because of who your dad is.”
I blinked. That was surprisingly perceptive.
“It is difficult,” I admitted. “I have to work twice as hard to prove I deserve to be there. Every decision I make gets scrutinized. Every partnership I recommend gets questioned.”
“Like me.”
“Especially you.”
He nodded slowly. “That’s why you came at me so hard at the expo.”
“No, I was protecting people from a potential scam artist.” I pursed my lips and looked down at my hands. “I’ve seen too many desperate people get taken advantage of. It’s heartbreaking.”
“Still think I’m a scam artist?”
I didn’t know anymore. The research I’d done on B Well had been solid. His products weren’t making outrageous claims. The ingredients were quality. And the way he talked about his business, there was genuine passion there.
But passion wasn’t always enough.
“The jury’s still out,” I said.
He smiled slightly. “Fair enough.”
The flight attendant came by again, asking if we wanted lunch. Hollis ordered a turkey club. I ordered a salad, trying not to think about how ridiculous this all was, eating expensive food on a private plane while pretending I wasn’t affected by any of it.
“Why did you go into nutrition?” Hollis said after we’d been eating in silence for a few minutes. “Like, what made you choose this field?”
I set my fork down, considering how much to share. He wasn’t a friend. “I just liked the idea.”
“You know what I think?” he asked.
“I’m guessing you’re going to tell me.”
“I think you’re projecting.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You called me a nepo baby. But you’re way more of a nepo baby than I am. I’ve never worked for my father’s company. So I think you’re just projecting your issues onto me.”
I rolled my eyes. “And now you’re a shrink. Is that your next thing?”
I reached into my purse and pulled out my earbuds. The universal signal for “don’t talk to me.”
Hollis laughed and shook his head.
We touched down at Teterboro just after four. I gathered my bags and tried not to think about how effortless Hollis looked deplaning, like he did this every damn day.
Which he probably did.
A black car was waiting on the tarmac. The driver took our bags while Hollis held the door open for me. I slid into the backseat without comment. He rounded the car and got in on the other side.
The drive into Manhattan was quiet. I needed to get away from that damn citrus scent.
The last five hours had been an exercise of self-control.
I sat two feet away from him, sharing the same recycled air.
Distraction didn’t adequately describe what he did to me.
It was making it very hard to concentrate on market projections.
The hotel was exactly what I’d expected after the private plane. No Blackwell rolled up to a Holiday Inn. All marble and gold and understated luxury that screamed money. The kind of place where the doorman probably made more than most people’s annual salary just in tips.
I followed Hollis to the check-in counter, doing my best not to look like Dorothy in Oz.
“You better have gotten us separate rooms,” I said as he pulled out his credit card.
He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “I didn’t just get us separate rooms. I put us on separate floors.”
Ouch. Separate floors? Like I was some kind of contagion he needed to quarantine himself from?
“What, you think I have the plague?”
“No.” He turned back to the front desk clerk. “This way it doesn’t matter.”
“Doesn’t matter what?”
He didn’t answer. Just finished checking in with that infuriating calm that made me want to shake him.
The clerk handed him two key cards, and he passed one to me without looking. “Be ready to leave by eight tomorrow morning. Meeting’s at nine thirty, and I want to get there early.”
“I know how to be on time,” I snapped.
He just nodded and headed toward the elevators, his garment bag slung over his shoulder.
I stood there for a second, staring after him. Was he seriously just going to walk away? Not even offer to get dinner? Not make some stupid comment or flash that cocky smile?
“Wait,” I called out, hurrying after him. “I’m heading up too.”
He held the elevator door for me. Small miracle. We stepped inside together and the space suddenly felt very small. I pressed the button for my floor—seventeen—and watched him hit twenty-three.
Six floors between us. He truly had put some space between us.
The elevator started its ascent, and I found myself getting more annoyed with each passing floor.
What was his deal? I’d been bracing myself all day for him to try something.
To make some flirty comment or suggest we grab drinks or dinner.
I was supposed to get the satisfaction of shooting him down.
But he’d done nothing. Just treated me like a business associate he was barely tolerating.
Which was fine. Great, even. Exactly what I wanted.
So why did it feel like a rejection?
The elevator slowed as it approached my floor. I grabbed my bags and moved toward the door, not looking at him.
“Sweet dreams,” he called from behind me.
I whirled around to say something, but the doors were already sliding shut, leaving me staring at my own reflection in the polished metal.
“Asshole,” I muttered to my mirrored self.
I stomped down the hallway to my room, my bags bumping against my legs with each step. The key card worked on the first try, which was good because I probably would have kicked the door if it hadn’t.
The room was beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. King-sized bed with what looked like thousand-thread-count sheets. A massive bathroom with a big, fluffy robe hanging on the door.
I should have been thrilled. This was luxury I rarely experienced. Instead, I felt twisted up inside. Out of sorts. Like something was wrong but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what.
I dropped my bags on the bed and walked to the window, pressing my forehead against the glass. The city stretched out below me.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I should have insisted my father send someone else. Anyone else.
Being around Hollis Blackwell was doing something to me. Making me feel things I had no business feeling. Making me notice things I shouldn’t notice, like the way his jaw tightened when I insulted him. How his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
I headed for the bathroom. A hot shower would clear my head. Help me focus on what mattered, which was tomorrow’s meeting.
That was what I was here for. Not to obsess over why Hollis Blackwell hadn’t flirted with me.
I turned the water as hot as I could stand it and stepped under the spray, letting it beat against my shoulders. Tomorrow I’d be back in control.
Tonight I just needed to stop thinking about him.