Positively Pricked: A Billionaire Loathing-to-Love Romance

by Sabrina Stark

  I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "What?"

  "Oh yeah," she said, giving me a smirk. "You didn't know?"

  No. I didn't. In fact, everything about this trip had caught me completely by surprise.

  Into my silence she continued, "It was supposed to be just me and Zane."

  Was that true?

  I looked to Zane, wondering what he'd say. But he didn't say anything. Instead, he leisurely got to his feet and headed past me, toward the front of the plane.

  I didn't even turn to watch him go, but I was pretty sure that if he returned with a drink, I'd be ripping it from his clutches and guzzling it down before he could say, "Welcome to the flight from hell."

  The brunette eyed me with clear disdain. "And then you show up." She glanced at the guy sitting next to me, and her mouth twisted into something surprising ugly for someone so beautiful. "With him."

  I looked to the guy in question. "I'm not with him."

  The guy grumbled, "That's for sure."

  It was obviously an insult. I asked, "What's that supposed to mean?"

  The guy looked to the brunette and announced, "She's sleeping with her roommate's boyfriend."

  Oh, for God's sake. Through clenched teeth, I said, "I am not. I don't even like him."

  The guy made a sound that I couldn’t quite decipher. A scoff? A snort? What?

  I told the guy, "If you have something to say, just say it."

  As an answer, he reached into the inside pocket of his suit coat and pulled out a familiar-looking pink card. I snatched it from his fingers and gave it a quick glance.

  Immediately, I felt color rise to my cheeks. It was the card that had accompanied the flowers. Apparently, he'd scooped it up from the lobby floor as some sort of secondhand keepsake.

  I had to wonder, why would he do such a thing?

  To humiliate me in front of Miss Tight-as-a-Virgin?

  To prove to my boss that I was a terrible person?

  Or, because the guy was just that annoying?

  I was still staring at the card when it was abruptly snatched from my fingers. I looked up just in time to see the brunette scanning the hand-written message. With a laugh, she read the note out loud. "Wet yet?"

  Hearing this, I couldn’t help but cringe all over again. It was either the worst flower-watering instructions I'd ever heard, or something a whole lot more suggestive.

  The brunette tossed the card aside. "This is nothing. What's the big deal?"

  The guy next to me explained, "It's from her roommate's boyfriend." He looked back to me and said, "Or, are you gonna deny that, too?"

  By now, I was pretty sure I hated the guy. I said, "What do you care?"

  Ignoring my question, he looked back to the brunette and said, "So if I were you, I'd keep an eye on her."

  Well, that was rich. Already, the brunette was giving me the squinty-eye, as if I were personally responsible for her failure to get down and dirty at fifty-thousand feet, or however high we were. About the altitude, I didn't know, and I didn't care. At this point, all I cared about was the drink cart – or lack thereof.

  The thought had barely crossed my mind when Zane returned and settled himself back into his seat without uttering a single word.

  I looked to his hands.

  No drink.

  Damn it.

  I was still dealing with that disappointment when something in our flight seemed to change, like we were slowing down or maybe changing altitude. Being such a newbie, I couldn't quite figure it out until Zane said, "Buckle up. We're landing in ten."

  Ten minutes? That couldn’t be right. We were still a long way from New York.

  Weren't we?

  The brunette looked toward the nearest window. "We are?"

  As for Zane, he was once again scrolling through his cell phone. He didn't answer the question.

  The blond guy looked to his watch. "All right, I'll play along. Where are we landing?"

  Zane didn't even look up. "Kalamazoo."

  The brunette said, "Kalama-who?"

  "Kalamazoo," Zane repeated. "Michigan."

  "What? Why?" She looked toward the cockpit area. "Don't tell me there's a problem with the plane?"

  Zane said, "All right."

  Again, she turned to look. "So there is a problem?"

  Zane was still scrolling. "No."

  "I don't understand," she said. "We're going to New York."

  "We are," Zane said. "You aren't."

  Chapter 35

  Zane's announcement hung in the air. No one made a sound. He couldn’t mean what I thought he meant. He wouldn't seriously ditch her at a random airport and keep on going? Would he?

  Then again, this was Zane Bennington. He did a lot of things that nice people didn't do.

  The brunette blinked a couple of times and said, "What?"

  Zane replied, "You heard me."

  She glanced around as if searching for a hidden camera. "But why?"

  Zane looked back to his cell phone. Almost under his breath, he said, "Because I didn't bring a parachute."

  For himself? Or for her? He didn't say, and no one asked.

  She gave a shaky laugh. "Oh, so you're kidding?" She blew out a long, unsteady breath. "Wow, for a minute there—"

  "I’m not kidding," Zane said. "Now, buckle up." He scrolled through his phone. "Or not. Your choice."

  The blond guy and I exchanged a look. For once, he looked utterly unconcerned with my apparent sluttiness.

  Across from us, the brunette sputtered, "But I'm working that show in New York."

  "Not my problem," Zane said.

  She was glaring at him now. "Well, it's gonna be your problem, considering that you're one of the sponsors."

  I had no idea what they were talking about. I heard myself ask, "What show?"

  It was the brunette who answered. "A fashion show." She gave me a quick once-over and added, "Not that you'd know anything about that."

  I felt my gaze narrow. "Excuse me?"

  Next to her, Zane stopped scrolling only long enough to say in a low voice, "I said, leave her alone."

  The brunette practically leapt to her feet, as if preparing to storm off, which was really stupid, considering that there was nowhere to go. "Well, this is just terrific," she told him. "What? You're sleeping with her, too?"

  Oh, God. I looked toward the rear of the plane. If only there was a parachute. It would have my name all over it.

  The guy next to me spoke up. "She's not sleeping with Zane," he said. "She's sleeping with her roommate's boyfriend. Remember?"

  The brunette gave a snort of derision. "Oh, like that matters. You do know you can sleep with multiple people, right?" Her lips formed a smirk. "Sometimes, even at the same time."

  She looked to Zane, and her tone softened. "Which reminds me… I've got a friend in New York. She's hot as hell and super-freaky, too." The brunette leaned closer to him and said, "If you want, she'll do things—"

  "Don't," Zane said.

  She blinked. "Don't what?"

  "You know what."

  Again, the brunette's gaze swiveled in my direction. "Is it because of her?"

  "No," Zane said. "It's because you're embarrassing."

  "Oh, so you're embarrassed? Is that what you mean?"

  "No," he said. "You're embarrassing yourself."

  "Hey," she said, throwing back her shoulders, "I'm not embarrassed by my own sexuality." When he made no response, she gave his crotch a pointed look and added, "And last I looked, you weren't either."

  I sunk lower in my seat. Forget the parachute. Maybe I'd just jump out the emergency exit and pray for the best.

  The brunette turned and gave me a particularly nasty smirk. "Can you suck a golf ball through a garden hose?"

  I stared up at her. What did that even mean?

  Next to me, the new guy muttered, "If you really wanna know, ask her roommate's boyfriend."

  I'd had just about enough. I jumped to my feet and glared down at the guy
. "What's your problem?" I demanded. "I didn't do anything to you – or to her stupid boyfriend, not that it's any of your concern."

  Zane's voice cut through the commotion. "You wanna hit Kalamazoo, too?"

  Just great. So now he was threatening to leave me behind? Cripes, at this point, he'd be doing me a favor, well, aside from the fact that I'd be stranded with the garden-hose golf-ball sucker.

  I turned to glare at him, only to discover that he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the new guy.

  As I watched in stunned disbelief, Zane told him, "Now, apologize. Or grab your luggage."

  After a long, awkward pause, the new guy looked vaguely in my direction and muttered a few words that might be considered an apology if I weren't too picky.

  I was still trying to make sense of it all when the brunette demanded, "What about me? Don't I deserve an apology?"

  I couldn’t resist asking, "For what?"

  "What do you mean 'for what?'" She straightened. "I'm being kicked off for no good reason."

  This might've been true five minutes ago, but now, I could see plenty of reasons to kick her off. Wasn't it some sort of flight hazard when someone stood up and flipped out on a plane? The thought had barely crossed my mind when I realized that she wasn't the only one standing.

  Unsure what else to do, I sank down in my seat and tried to pretend that none of this was happening. I closed my eyes in a desperate bid to block out everyone and everything, including my own jumbled thoughts.

  In the background, I heard Zane say, "Are you gonna buckle up or not?"

  The brunette snapped, "No. And you can't make me."

  "I wasn't talking to you," Zane said. "I was talking to her."

  My eyes flew open, and I looked to Zane. He looked to my seatbelt, and his voice hardened. "Now."

  Well, that wasn't bossy or anything.

  Still, I reached for my seatbelt and began fastening it over my lap.

  The brunette gave a single stomp of her foot. "Doesn't anyone care about me? I'm still standing for Christ's sake!"

  Next to me, the blond guy assured her, "I care."

  "Yeah?" she said. "Well, up yours!"

  I glanced out the window and bit my lip. We were definitely getting ready to land. True, I couldn’t see the airport, but the ground was looking a whole lot closer than it had just a couple minutes earlier.

  I looked up and told the brunette, "Seriously, I think you'd better sit."

  "Oh yeah?" She crossed her arms. "What if I don't want to?"

  I tried to think. "Well, um, if we have a rough landing, couldn’t your face get mangled or something?"

  Her hand flew to her face. She felt around as if imagining an ear where her mouth should be and vice-versa. She stopped in mid-motion and gave me the squinty-eye. "Oh, shut up," she said, before plopping back into her seat and fastening the belt over her lap.

  It was a good thing, too, because Zane wasn't kidding. We were definitely landing.

  Welcome to Kalamazoo.

  Chapter 36

  An hour later, we were in the air again, minus What's-Her-Name.

  The blond guy looked to Zane and said, "You're a real asshole, you know that?"

  Zane had set aside his cell phone and was now leaning back in his seat, looking at nothing in particular.

  The blond guy said, "Well?"

  Zane spared him half a glance. "Well what?"

  "Aren't you gonna respond to that?"

  "No."

  The guy frowned. "Why not?"

  "Because I don't care."

  "About what?"

  "That you think I'm an asshole."

  "I don't think you're an asshole," the guy clarified. "I know you're an asshole."

  Zane looked utterly indifferent. "Good to know."

  "What does that mean?" the guy said. "Do you mean it's good that I know? Or it's good that you know?"

  Zane replied, "Does it matter?"

  The guy looked to me and said, "What do you think?"

  Oh, so now he wanted to include me in the conversation? After he'd been treating me like trash from the get-go? I tried for a smirk. "I dunno...Does it matter?"

  Yes, I realized that I was only repeating what Zane had said, but that was the whole point. It was annoying, and I wanted to annoy the guy.

  Besides, I saw no reason to take his side, not after he'd been so eager to assume the worst of me.

  With a sound of annoyance – score one for me – he looked toward a nearby cabinet and asked, "What happened to the drinks?"

  Zane said, "I got rid of them."

  "When?"

  "This afternoon."

  The guy frowned. "Why'd you do that?"

  "Because I don't want to deal with a drunk."

  "Hey!" the guy said. "I can hold my liquor just fine."

  Zane leaned further back in his seat and closed his eyes. "Uh-huh."

  The guy looked to me and said, "What about you? Wouldn't you like a drink?"

  Boy, would I ever.

  But stubbornly, I still didn't want to take his side. And besides, what was the point of complaining? It's not like we could hit a liquor store in mid-air.

  I gave a dismissive shrug. "I'm not much of a drinker." In spite of my drink-cart fantasies, this was actually true.

  The guy said, "Well, aren't you special?"

  With his eyes still shut, Zane said, "Hey, Teddy."

  "What?"

  "Fuck off."

  Teddy's jaw tightened. "What?"

  "You heard me," Zane said.

  As the guy replied with some profanity of his own, I felt my eyebrows furrow. Teddy?

  I'd heard that name before. But where? And then it hit me. "Oh, my God," I said. "You're Teddy the—" Oh, crap. With a small gasp, I slammed my lips shut and looked away.

  Like an idiot, I'd been about to say, "Teddy the Drunk."

  My gaze landed on Zane, and I was surprised to see that his eyes were now open. Our gazes locked across the short distance, and I swear I saw a flash of amusement flicker in those green depths.

  And then, it was gone, replaced by the bored indifference he seemed to favor when not being an outright prick.

  In spite of this, I couldn’t seem to make myself look away. Odder still, he wasn't looking away either. Weird.

  Next to me, the blond guy demanded, "Teddy the what?"

  With a start, I turned to look at him. Earlier, he'd given his name as Theodore. No wonder I hadn't made the connection. But it did make sense. Theodore, Teddy – yup, they had to be the same guy.

  I should've known. After all, he'd been giving Zane all kinds of attitude for most of the flight. And yet, he hadn't been tossed out like What's-Her-Name.

  Did Teddy get a pass because he was family?

  Next to me, Teddy was still waiting for an answer. "Well?" he said.

  Desperately, I tried to think. I recalled snippets of what I'd overheard from inside the catering van, not just from Teddy, but from that Bob guy, too. Finally, I settled on, "Teddy the Cousin."

  Teddy's mouth tightened. "Second cousin."

  This also made sense. On the Bennington side, Zane had those two uncles. Both had died childless, which meant that Zane had no first cousins, at least not on his father's side. As far as his mother's side, I had no idea.

  So where did Teddy fit into all of this? I studied his face. He and Zane looked nothing alike. Where Zane had bold, angular features, Teddy had a fine, delicate mouth, light blue eyes, and pale eyelashes. It's not that Teddy was unattractive. It's just that, compared to Zane, someone like Teddy would totally fade into the background.

  Was that the source of his animosity?

  No, I decided. It had to be about the inheritance. Zane had gotten everything. And Teddy? What had he gotten?

  Kicked out of his house, that's what.

  No wonder he was hostile.

  Suddenly, I was seeing him in a much more sympathetic light.

  On the night of the party, he'd been drunk and belligerent.
Today, he was sober, but nearly as hostile. But could I really blame him?

  I heard myself ask, "So, why are you going to New York?"

  As an answer, he looked to Zane. I looked, too. Once again, Zane's eyes were shut as he leaned back in his seat.

  But if he was truly asleep, I was Little Red Riding Hood. Probably, he just didn't want to be bothered. That was fine by me. It's not like I wanted to talk to him, anyway.

  In a quiet voice, Teddy finally said, "I'm going to be working in the New York office."

  This surprised me. After all, the two guys obviously hated each other. So, why would Zane offer Teddy a job? And why on Earth would Teddy accept?

  Then again, who was I to wonder such a thing? After all, I was working for Zane, too, and it's not like I was his biggest fan.

  I said, "Really? Doing what?"

  Teddy frowned. "Whatever he wants."

  He hadn't said who "he" was, but it wasn't hard to guess. I gave Zane another quick glance. His eyes were still shut, and yet, I'd be a fool to forget that he could probably hear every word, assuming that he cared enough to listen.

  At the thought, I did a mental eye-roll. Yeah, like we were so fascinating.

  Turning my attention back to Teddy, I asked, "So, was the move a sudden thing?"

  "No. We worked it out last week." He paused. "This trip was sudden though."

  "Really? How sudden?"

  "Very sudden." Teddy was frowning again. "Today, I show up at his office for a meeting, and he tells me to pack my stuff, because we're flying out in just a few hours."

  I could so relate. I almost laughed. "Yeah, me too."

  Teddy's face softened into something that might be considered a smile. "I guess I should say it, huh?"

  "Say what?"

  "I'm sorry."

  "For what?" I asked.

  "For the attitude earlier." He gave a slow shake of his head. "You want the truth? It's been one of those weeks."

  My shoulders relaxed, and I returned his smile. "That's all right." And I meant it, too. After all, I knew – probably more than he realized – just how much he was going through.

  With a sigh, Teddy added, "After all, it's none of my business who you're sleeping with."

  And just like that, my smile was gone. "What?"

  "I'm just saying, we all have our issues."