by Aly Martinez
Suddenly, ice flew from his glass, landing in his lap when an air wrench sounded outside the plane. His free hand slapped down on my forearm before gripping impossibly tight.
“Shit! What the fuck are they doing out there?”
Lifting my arm with his fingers painfully biting into my skin, I pinched the bridge of my nose.
Deep breath, Roth.
Deep fucking breath.
I pointed out the window. “That’s a good sound. You want to hear two of those, actually.” I cupped my hand to my ear just as the second one sounded. “See.”
His tense posture momentarily relaxed. “Why are you here?”
“I told you. Two hundred bucks. Given the company, I’m not so sure it’s worth it anymore. But I’ve heard there might be some free drinks to sweeten up the deal.” I clapped my hands and rubbed them together.
“I’ll buy you whatever drink you want if you go get Carter before we take off,” he replied with attitude, but it barely masked the shake of vulnerability in his voice.
I actually felt bad for him.
“Look,” I said. “He thought it might help if you had a professional to answer your questions. Why don’t you just sit back and chill. I’ll let you know if there’s anything to worry about.”
His gaze met mine, a mixture of hope and relief filling his face only to transform into terror when the ding of a passenger assistance button sounded.
Leaning toward him, I smiled playfully and whispered, “Relax. Some rich prick just wants a second blanket. She’ll tell him no. He’ll pout.” I sat up and straightened my invisible tie. “In my professional opinion, I don’t believe the repercussions of his pouting will be catastrophic.”
His eyes lit in relief for a fraction of a second before dropping to my smiling mouth again. I witnessed his stare, but I could have been blind and I still would have felt it gliding over my skin.
“So, there you go,” I said uncomfortably. “What other question do you have for me? Come on. Fire away. Knowing is half the battle, my friend.”
“Awesome. Carter sent me Optimus Prime,” he mumbled to himself.
“Optimus Prime?”
He waved off my question. “That ‘knowing is half the battle’ shit. It’s from Transformers.”
I sucked in a sharp breath, and his nervous gaze flew to mine.
“What? What’s wrong?”
“Please, God, tell me you’re kidding. Transformers?”
“Is that wrong?” He took the safety booklet out and started flipping through it when the flight attendant began her preflight announcements.
“That is so far past wrong, wrong isn’t even visible anymore,” I whispered. “I’m actually embarrassed for you right now. For a man your age, you should be ashamed.”
He gasped, slowly swinging a scowl my way. “A man my age? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You’re like thirty-seven, thirty-eight, right?”
He was thirty-one. I knew because I’d spent at least an hour the night before reading about him online. After the way we’d met, I was curious about the guy. Plus, I’d been desperately trying to put my phone to a use that didn’t involve calling or texting Nikki again.
From what I’d read, he seemed like a decent guy. Charitable. Relatively low profile given his celebrity status. He’d won practically every award offered to a musician, and that included those for song-writing as he’d written over ninety percent of his own music. He owned his own record label—Downside Up Records—with fellow bajillionaire Levee Williams. They had a few big-name artists ranging from country all the way to metal. And, as far as I could tell, the guy had never been arrested or interrupted anyone at an awards show.
Honestly, as much as I wanted to hate him after the way he‘d shown his ass when we’d met, I couldn’t find anything to seal the deal.
“You,” he hissed, followed by a humorless chuckle that had the flight attendant’s eyes snapping our way while she demonstrated how to properly use an oxygen mask in the case of an emergency. Lowering his voice, he said, “You can shut your damn mouth. Go see if it’s too late to trade back with Carter. At least he doesn’t insult me.” He paused and swayed his head in consideration. “Not all the time, anyway. For your information, I’m twenty-nine.”
I barked a laugh at his lie but decided not to call him on it. “Well, for your information, it was G.I. Joe. Not Transformers. You should brush up on your eighties cartoons before you start spouting quotes.” I leaned back in my seat and got comfortable as the plane began to taxi toward the runway.
“Transformers was a cartoon before a movie?”
I clutched my chest. “Dear God. You’re killing me, man.”
A quiet chuckle escaped his mouth, and I couldn’t help but smile over at him.
He held my stare with solemn eyes until my smile faded away.
“I’m not an entitled asshole,” he said softly. “I mean, I am, but only when it comes to flying. It’s just…” He trailed off as the plane accelerated for takeoff.
“Hey, you okay?”
His face had paled, and small beads of sweat had formed at his hairline.
Reaching up, I turned his air vent on full blast and aimed it at him.
“Thanks,” he replied, staring out the window.
“You want to count with me?” I asked, attempting to distract him.
He shook his head and doubled his large body over until his head was resting on his knees.
Normally, I would have laughed at the sight of such a big guy curled into some sort of fetal position, but I genuinely felt bad for him. His fear was palpable. While I’d never been afraid of flying, I knew exactly what it felt like to be ravaged by paralyzing panic.
With every jerk of the plane, the muscles on his back flexed. I considered rubbing my hand over his back, but touching him in that state of vulnerability felt entirely too personal.
“Um,” I mumbled, looking around the cabin, unsure of what to do.
Shit. Okay.
Folding over to match his position, I did the only thing I could think of.
“Ten, nine, eight.”
His hand snaked out and anchored to my thigh.
“Seven, six, five, four.” I sat up and glanced out the window. We were running out of runway, so I rushed through the end. “Three, two, one.”
No sooner had I finished than the wheels lifted off the ground.
A strangled cry escaped his throat. “Shit.”
“It’s all good,” I assured as we climbed in altitude. “Just a heads-up: The landing gear is going to lock into place in a second. It’s another good sound, okay?”
He nodded against his legs, but the rise and fall of his back revealed that the warning hadn’t soothed him in the least.
For some odd reason, I stayed bent over beside him until we reached cruising altitude. I continuously talked him through the bumps and shakes, doing my best not to get too technical but still giving him enough information on what was happening to make him feel informed. If it helped, I couldn’t be sure, but I kept talking anyway. He didn’t acknowledge me until the flight attendant came over the intercom to announce that the Fasten Seat Belt sign had been turned off.
As he suddenly sat upright, I watched a whole new man emerge. Releasing my leg, he calmly lifted a finger in the air and shot a megawatt grin at the flight attendant.
“Another bloody mary?” she asked.
He replied with a flirty wink. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, beautiful.”
She appeared confused by his sudden transformation, but she was worthless to fight the suffocating charm leaking from his pores.
I swear to God, the woman, who not fifteen minutes earlier was contemplating having him removed from the flight, was now batting her eyelashes.
“No problem at all.”
I had to give him credit. He’d gone from mental patient to Mr. Suave right before my eyes.
“Thanks, doll.”
Doll? Who actually gets
away with saying that?
Apparently Henry Alexander.
Retrieving a magazine from the seatback, he pondered, “I saw a stainless-steel wallet in here once. I wonder if they still have it.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, completely confused by his abrupt mood swing.
Cool as a fucking cucumber, he tossed me a puzzled expression. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
“Um, because you almost had a nervous breakdown and, now, you’re flipping through SkyShop in search of a stainless-steel wallet.”
With a bright-white, captivating smile, he grazed his shoulder against mine and whispered, “Oh, please. That was nothing.”
It was then that I knew exactly why millions of men and women were so hypnotized by Henry Alexander.
I just couldn’t figure out why suddenly I was too.
I WAS WELL aware that I’d looked like a fool. My heart was still racing as I pretended to absently flip through a magazine. My eyes were glued to the pages, but I didn’t see a single word. I couldn’t think of anything except for Evan’s deep, baritone voice in my ear as he’d counted down to takeoff as if we had been on a space shuttle headed to Mars. That thought was only slightly more terrifying than the shiver that ran down my spine when his warm breath breezed over my skin.
Knowing that every jerk wasn’t the worst-case scenario I’d created in my head did more for me than I could explain. Evan hadn’t just told me I was “fine” or “okay” like Carter and Susan did. He’d explained why I was okay. And, while I’d still been terrified the entire time, I hadn’t felt out of control.
And, recently, that was all I’d felt.
Agents, managers, lawyers, and publicists all made my decisions for me. Even Carter got to decide how I traveled and what restaurants were safe for me to visit. I didn’t mind—usually. Or maybe I didn’t realize how much it bothered me until then.
I adored my job. I had incredible friends. I fucking loved my life.
What was there left to want for?
Oh, right.
A partner.
And not just a man to lose myself inside. Although I was willing to make an exception for the obviously straight-as-an-arrow Captain Roth.
My cock had gotten me in a lot of trouble over of the years. Its timing was shit. And its taste in men wasn’t much better. But it liked what it liked. And, even in the midst of a panic attack, it had decided it liked Evan Roth. It wasn’t alone in that. Evan seemed like a good guy. I didn’t have much to go on except that he was a pilot, didn’t seem overly fond of wealthy people, and could go from gladiator to nursemaid in mere seconds. And, after glancing over at his barrel chest straining against the buttons on his grey button-down, I decided I was completely okay with a little role-play action with him in either one of those scenarios.
In my bedroom.
Or his. I wasn’t picky.
“Care for a drink?” I asked with a devilish smirk. My voice was still thick from the panic, but I prayed that it came off as a masculine rasp.
I also prayed that the flight attendant didn’t delay in dumping some vodka and tomato juice together.
If history was any indication, I was moments away from the adrenaline shakes. I’d get over those just in time to start the process all over again when we prepared for landing. The flying part of flying wasn’t what sent me over the edge. The takeoff and the landing were what damn near crippled me. Those fears were exactly what had driven me to purchase my own private jet, despite the fact that I only flew three to four times a year—less if I could get away with it. I needed the peace of mind that only came with knowing what pilot was behind the controls. I paid Jackson an exorbitant amount of money to keep Craig available to me at all times. He came with the highest of recommendations from the only pilot I trusted with my life.
Because…well, he’d literally saved my life.
Now was definitely not the time to revisit that day.
Shaking off the memory, I tipped my head at Evan. “Drink? Yes?”
His confusion showed in the tiny creases between his brows. “No. I mean, yes. I could use a drink. But are you sure you’re okay?”
“Positive.”
His eyes searched my face.
But he wasn’t going to find anything. I’d made sure of that.
I held his brilliant, blue stare with every ounce of false confidence I could muster. At any other time, it wouldn’t have been false. At a lower altitude, without a death-defying landing in my not-so-distant future, I would have launched full-on defilement mode on him.
Patience. It might have been the only virtue I possessed.
I cleared my throat and jutted my chin toward the flight attendant waiting for his order.
“Right. Yeah. Beer. Domestic,” he requested, unfortunately snapping out of my trance.
We sat in silence until she returned with our drinks.
Hiding the shake left in my hands, I shoved the SkyShop magazine back into the pocket in front of me. “Thank you, gorgeous.” I smiled, dropping my eyes to her chest.
She was completely covered, but her breasts were no less noticeable. If I hadn’t been already pushing my limits with this woman, I would have asked if they were fake. Not that I cared. Tits didn’t do anything for me. But I found it fascinating, the lengths women went through to enhance those worthless chest ornaments.
I lifted my eyes back up to her face and found that her cheeks had pinked. Game on.
“Listen, I’m really sorry about that mess when we first boarded. That’s not who I am. Fear is not a pretty color on me.” I raked my teeth over my bottom lip and strategically leaned across Evan so my chest brushed his arm.
His thick bicep flexed at the contact.
My smile spread. “I just feel terrible about the way I acted. It was unforgiveable, really. Any chance I could bribe you with front-row tickets to accept my apology?”
Her eyes flashed wide, and I knew I had her.
“Perhaps dinner afterward?”
My sexuality wasn’t a secret. Yet, for some reason, women were always easier for me to charm. Men often fell under my spell, but women were intoxicated by it. The thrill of the possibility that they could be the one to change me, no doubt. It was a mindset I understood completely.
“You don’t need to do that,” she breathed, unconsciously swaying toward me.
We were hovering over Evan’s lap at this point. It would have been awkward as hell if his clean, masculine scent hadn’t been filling my lungs.
But, then again, maybe my deep inhales as I drank him in were the only awkward part—at least for him.
He pressed back against his seat, but I shifted with him to maintain the connection.
Keeping my eyes on the flight attendant, I purred, “But I really do. What’s your name, doll?”
She giggled and then glanced up to see if anyone was watching. “Jessica.”
“Mmm, Jessica. So nice to meet you.” I started to extend a shaky hand in her direction before I thought better of it. I did the next best thing and dropped it to the shared armrest—right on top of Evan’s forearm.
As to be expected, he quickly bent his elbow, moving his arm out of my reach.
“I’m Henry Alexander.”
“I know,” she whispered, then licked her lips.
“Oh, good. That makes it easier for me.” I paused when I got an idea. Fighting back a mischievous grin, I continued. “How about you and one of your girls come out to my show in L.A. next week? My treat. Dinner, drinks, the whole deal. Evan and I would love to take you two beautiful ladies out for an evening.”
“Excuse me?” he exclaimed, cocking his head to catch my gaze.
I leaned back into my seat and lifted a hand to massage his shoulder. I was barely able to suppress a moan when the angle of his firm trap muscle met my palm.
Fuck, this guy was built like a brick wall. And I was going to love every second of watching him crumble for me.
“Oh, come on, Evan. It’s the least we can do. Double
date.” I winked at Jessica. “You can fly them out! My plane should be ready by then.”
Jessica’s eyes jumped to Evan’s. “You’re a pilot?” Her smile spread irritatingly wide.
Back off, Ginger Spice.
Snapping my fingers in her direction, I corrected, “He’s my pilot.”
Subtlety was not a virtue I possessed. Was subtlety a virtue at all?
“Your temporary pilot,” he amended before shaking his head and then tipping his beer to his lips for a long pull.
“Anyway. Do we have a date?” And, by date, I meant feeding her dinner while I attempted to work my way into Evan’s pants.
She pressed one finger to her lips and then nervously flashed her eyes around the cabin.
“Oops. Sorry.” I shrugged sheepishly. Lifting my drink to my mouth, I discreetly passed her my cocktail napkin and then not-so-discreetly brushed my forearm against Evan’s chest as I pulled away.
He offered her a tight smile just before she disappeared.
I grinned proudly.
“What the fucking hell was that?” he whisper-yelled at me.
“That was me getting a woman’s number.”
He arched an eyebrow. “A woman. Really?”
“What? Is that not allowed?” I feigned innocence.
He clenched his fist in his lap, and it made me suddenly aware that my own hands had stopped trembling—and in record time, I should note. Evan seemed to be quite useful in the art of distraction.
He leaned closer. “Don’t bullshit me. I looked you up. You’re…” He stopped, unwilling to say the big, bad “G” word.
“I’m what?” I taunted.
He rolled his eyes and chugged the rest of his beer.
We went back to silence until Jessica came back by with another drink, complete with her phone number written on the napkin.
“I’m not going on a double date,” Evan said as I tucked the napkin into my pocket. “You want me to fly them out? Not a problem. Schedule it with Jackson. But that’s the extent of my professional responsibilities. And, since I’m off the clock right now, I’d also like to mention that I think whatever play you’re planning to run on that woman is fucked up.”
My head snapped to his. “I’m sorry. Play?” I asked with more attitude than I had originally planned.