7. Todd
TODD
The call came in before seven in the morning.
That alone irritated me.
People who worked for me knew better than to call before seven unless something was on fire, someone was dead, or the stock market had collapsed.
Since none of those things seemed likely, I considered letting it go to voicemail.
Then I saw the name on the screen.
Skyward Aviation Management.
The company responsible for operating my Gulfstream.
I answered immediately.
"Todd Archer."
"Good morning, Mr. Archer. This is Karen Whitmore."
Her voice was tight.
Never a good sign.
"What happened?"
A brief pause.
"There's been a personnel issue regarding Captain Connelly."
Every muscle in my body tightened.
"What kind of personnel issue?"
"We have reassigned a different captain to your aircraft effective immediately."
I sat up straighter.
"What?"
"We've removed Captain Connelly from your account."
My account.
A sanitized corporate way of saying my airplane.
"Why?"
Another pause.
Long enough to tell me I wasn't going to like the answer.
"We received information that Captain Connelly engaged in an inappropriate personal relationship with a client."
For several seconds, I didn't say anything.
Mostly because I wanted to make sure I understood exactly what she was saying.
"You removed her because of me."
"Mr. Archer?—"
"You removed her because of me."
"Our fraternization policy is very clear."
Anger settled into my chest.
Cold.
Controlled.
The dangerous kind.
"Did she use company resources?"
More silence.
"Did she compromise safety?"
"No."
"Then what exactly did she do wrong?"
Karen exhaled.
"She entered into a personal relationship with a client."
I laughed once.
A humorless sound.
Because the truth was exactly the opposite.
I was the one that approached Cici.
I sat down next to her at the bar.
I had invited her for champagne in my suite.
And somehow she was the one paying the price.
"Put your supervisor on."
"Mr. Archer?—"
"Now."
A minute later, a man introduced himself as Director of Flight Operations.
I forgot his name immediately.
"Mr. Archer, I understand you have concerns."
"That's one way to put it."
"We take professionalism very seriously."
"So do I."
I stood and walked toward the window.
The Charlotte skyline was still waking up.
Traffic crawled along the interstate.
Normal.
Ordinary.
Meanwhile some idiot was trying to remove an excellent pilot from my aircraft.
"You assigned Captain Connelly because Justin is recovering from a skiing accident."
"Correct."
"And now you're pulling her off my airplane."
"Correct."
"Not because she did her job poorly."
"No."
"Not because she violated an FAA regulation."
"No."
"Not because she endangered my aircraft."
There was a heavy sigh from the other end of my phone. "No."
The silence stretched.
Then the words came out before I had time to stop them.
"She's my fiancée."
Dead silence.
I closed my eyes.
Well.
That had been spectacularly stupid.
The director cleared his throat.
"I'm sorry?"
"Captain Connelly is my fiancée."
The lie sounded disturbingly believable.
Maybe because I delivered it with complete confidence.
Maybe because I was still angry.
Or maybe it was because I was losing my freaking mind.
Either way, the damage was done.
"I wasn't aware of that."
"Clearly."
Another pause.
Longer this time.
Then:
"Had we known the relationship predated her assignment to your aircraft, the situation would have been evaluated differently."
Of course it would have.
Because apparently being engaged was professional.
Sleeping together wasn't.
Corporate logic at its finest.
"I'd like Captain Connelly reassigned to my aircraft immediately."
"We can make that happen."
"Along with a ten percent raise," I added. Because, why not?
"Sir?"
"You heard me."
"A... yes... yes Mr. Archer."
Relief should have followed.
Instead, a knot formed in my stomach. Because now I had another problem. A much bigger one.
Cici had absolutely no idea I had just told her employer we were engaged. And somehow I needed to explain it without sounding like a complete lunatic.
Three hours later, I stood on the tarmac staring at my airplane.
The Gulfstream G280 gleamed in the morning sun.
Normally, stepping onto the aircraft felt routine.
Today wasn't normal.
Cici was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a white pilot shirt and black trousers, sunglasses shielding her eyes and her long blonde hair pulled back neatly. She looked professional, composed, and entirely in command of the situation.
Every time I looked at her, my brain immediately stopped functioning.
She smiled politely.
"Good morning, Mr. Archer."
There it was.
Opportunity number one.
Tell her.
Right now.
Get it over with.
Instead, I heard myself say, "Morning."
Fucking coward.
Her smile widened slightly.
As if she suspected exactly nothing.
Which, unfortunately, was true.
She glanced toward the terminal.
"Flying alone today, sir?"
I could have sworn there was a hint of sarcasm beneath the question.
Or maybe I was imagining things.
“No, Bunny's joining me."
"Ah."
"She's running late." I shrugged, "she'll be here shortly."
"I see."
"It happens."
My feet didn't want to work. I just stood there. I should just tell her what I did. Instead, I caught myself staring at Cici's mouth.
"So... " Her brow rose, peeking out from her aviators.
"So... " I repeated. I still couldn't move.
What the hell was wrong with me?
"Sew buttons?" She smirked.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
The sound surprised both of us.
For a second, the memory of Aspen slipped between us.
Dinner, the hotel suite, champagne, and Cici's naked body pressed up against mine.
Then she straightened.
Pilot mode. Professional mode. The version of Cici who flew multimillion-dollar aircraft without giving anyone a reason to question her.
"Mike is finishing the walk-around," she said. "Julie already has everything prepared for departure."
Why did it feel like she'd been a part of this crew for years?
Not days.
Another reason I should tell her.
Another reason I didn't.
Because the second I opened my mouth, things were going to get complicated.
A black SUV pulled up near the aircraft.
Bunny climbed out with her computer bag in one hand and her cell phone in the other.
She looked up at the airplane, then at me, and finally at Cici. Her eyes narrowed immediately, and I hated when that happened because it usually meant Bunny was connecting dots.
"Good morning," she called as she approached.
"You're late," I said.
She looked at her watch.
"I'm three minutes early."
"You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago."
"That's still early."
Cici laughed.
Traitor.
Bunny pointed at her.
"See? She likes me."
Cici just shrugged.
Bunny snorted then headed up the stairs.
I looked back at Cici. She was smiling. Not the polite, professional smile she gave me earlier. A real one. Warm. Unguarded. And damn if that didn't do something to me.
"Everything ready?" I asked.
She nodded.
"The weather is mostly calm all the way to Chicago."
"Mostly?"
"A little weather moving in from the west." She shrugged. "Nothing concerning."
The confidence in her voice settled something inside me.
If she wasn't concerned, neither was I.
"Good."
Her eyes met mine for a second.
Long enough for me to remember exactly what they looked like when she wasn't wearing aviators.
Long enough for me to remember entirely too many things.
Then she stepped aside. Professional again.
"There are fresh cookies on board."
I blinked.
"Fresh cookies?"
A small grin appeared.
"Julie baked them."
"You're bribing me."
"Whatever works."
I laughed then followed Bunny up the stairs.
The cabin wrapped around me like a well-worn routine, familiar and effortless in a way that always felt like home.
Bunny immediately claimed her usual seat and spread paperwork across the table. Two minutes later Julie appeared with coffee. She knew exactly how I liked it.
No questions were asked, no explanation was needed, and it was simply the result of years of routine.
"Good morning, Mr. Archer."
"Morning, Julie."
"Morning, Naomi."
Bunny looked up.
"Tell me there are snacks."
"There are always snacks. I baked oatmeal raisin cookies."
"See? This is why you're my favorite."
Julie rolled her eyes.
The engines started shortly afterward. The familiar vibration moved through the cabin. A sensation I'd experienced hundreds of times before.
Normally I barely noticed it. Today was different. Today my attention kept drifting forward toward the cockpit. Toward Cici, the woman I should have already told the truth.
Charlotte disappeared beneath the clouds.
The flight settled into an easy rhythm. I worked through emails, took a few calls, and finished a report. I accomplished very little.
Every time I tried focusing on a spreadsheet, my mind wandered. Usually to the same blonde pilot.
About an hour into the flight, Mike's voice came over the cabin speakers.
A routine update, altitude, flight time, and the weather.
A few moments later, Cici came on after him, adding a quick note about the weather ahead and reassuring everyone that the bumps they would encounter were routine.
The composure coming from the cockpit was unmistakable.
I found myself smiling.
Bunny noticed immediately.
She tended to notice everything.
"You look happy."
"I am happy."
"No." She shook her head. "You look happy."
There was a difference. Unfortunately, she wasn't wrong.
I returned my attention to my laptop, pretending to focus on work. Bunny kept staring at me for another moment before finally sighing and pulling out her copy of The Knot. At least for now, whatever she thought she'd noticed was forgotten. Crisis temporarily avoided.
Two hours later the ride became noticeably rougher. Nothing dramatic, but just enough turbulence to remind everyone the atmosphere occasionally had opinions. The seatbelt sign illuminated, and rain streaked across the windows.
Chicago weather. A city that apparently took personal offense to aviation. Julie secured the cabin.
Bunny looked up from her magazine.
"Should we be concerned?"
"No."
"How do you know?"
Because Cici wasn't concerned. I didn't say that out loud. Mostly because Bunny would never let me live it down.
Instead I said, "Because they would've told us if we should be."
She narrowed her eyes. Clearly unconvinced.
The turbulence continued for another few minutes before smoothing out.
Then the aircraft began its descent.
I glanced out the window at the dark clouds, rain, and crosswinds. Nothing severe, but enough to make the landing interesting.
The airplane shifted in a subtle, controlled correction against the wind, then another. I wasn't a pilot, but I'd spent enough years flying to recognize when conditions weren't ideal.
The aircraft remained steady and purposeful, every adjustment feeling deliberate. A few moments later the runway appeared. The wind pushed again, the aircraft corrected, and the runway centered.
The wheels touched down so smoothly I barely felt it, the tires giving a soft chirp before settling onto the rolling pavement. That was it. There was no drama, no bouncing, no excitement, just a textbook landing.
Bunny let out a breath.
"Oh thank God."
I turned toward her.
"Worried?"
"Maybe."
"You were worried."
"I'm not dignifying that with a yes."
I laughed.
Then looked toward the cockpit. Toward the woman responsible for getting us safely onto the ground.
Again.
A ridiculous amount of pride swelled in my chest, as if I'd somehow had something to do with it, which made absolutely no sense. Yet there it was; the truth. I was impressed.
Not because she was beautiful, or because we'd spent one amazing night together. And not because I couldn't stop thinking about her. I was impressed because she was exceptionally good at what she did.
The more time I spent around her, the more obvious it became.
And that only made everything worse.
Because I still hadn't told her what I'd done.
And with every passing hour, that conversation became harder to have.