My cheeks heating, I instantly sit up, trying to cover up my embarrassment by adopting a haughty tone. “Of course it is.”
Ryder flashes me a sexy, lopsided grin. “You don’t seem to mind. You’re quite comfortable here, I see.”
I glance around the enclosed area I’m sitting in, or what the flight attendant referred to as my “personal suite”. My eye falls on the seat facing me: a neat pile of PJs, slippers, a branded leather clutch, and a notepad with my name printed on it in gold letters. Having never flown before, I had no idea what to expect. But I refuse to admit to him how much I’m enjoying this.
“Well, I do mind.” I narrow my eyes at him. “This is my first time on a plane. I should’ve flown coach to get the real plane experience. I want to know what people complain about: horrible food, seats reclining in your face, screaming babies.”
His lips immediately curl into a sexy, lopsided grin. “Do you, now?”
He pushes away from the partition and in one smooth motion, he shifts to stand in front of me, caging me in with his hands on either side of my head. I breathe in his aftershave, with undertones of the clean scent that’s uniquely him—more than enough to make me feel light-headed.
“In that case, I’ll have to show you the pleasures of First Class.”
He leans forward, so close I feel the heat radiating from his skin. My body instantly reacts: my breath catches, my pulse takes a leap. “I—I—”
He inches even closer, pure masculine confidence exuding from his every pore. He’s too irresistible, and I can’t help it—I lean in.
At the first touch of his lips, it’s like an electric current runs through me, setting my insides on fire. His kiss is soft and firm at the same time, demanding and passionate. He tastes like a heady champagne that I greedily lap up. My hands run through his soft, thick hair, pulling him toward me. I need him closer, deeper.
But all too soon, Ryder breaks away from me, leaving me breathless and bereft.
“Change your mind yet?”
The cocky grin he flashes produces a flare of anger inside me.
“You.” I lift my finger and poke it into his chest. “You always do this. You always want to be right.”
“I usually am. But so what? You seem to like it.”
He grasps my wrist and draws my finger into his mouth. His hot swirling tongue produces a wave of heat deep in my core, and I can’t help but let out a little moan.
“Ryder. Please.”
With a wide grin, he releases my finger. “See?”
Scowling, I swat his chest. “You’re as obnoxious as ever.”
“And you’re just too damn sexy.”
Ryder’s dark eyes sink into mine, while his big, warm hand lands on my knee and slides under the hem of my dress. A shiver travels up my spine. Darn, why does he have this effect on me? A mere look, a touch from him makes me melt inside, and I instantly forget everything.
His hand travels its way up the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, creating a searing path that sweeps up to that sensitive spot between my legs. I can’t stand it any longer—my hand glides into his shirt, exploring his hard pecs, just as warm and smooth and perfect as I’d imagined.
I run my other hand into his dark hair and pull his face toward me, wanting to feel his rough stubble against my cheek.
I want him. God, how I want him.
But before I can satisfy my craving to taste him again, Ryder breaks away from me. I open my mouth to protest, but a flash of red appears in the corner of my eye.
Drawing in a breath, I quickly straighten up and cross my legs as an impeccably groomed flight attendant wearing a red tailored jacket arrives with menus. She smiles warmly at me, and for once I am glad my sister urged me to wear a simple black sheath dress, ditch my face piercings and do away with my signature pink streaks.
Ryder sits down across from me at the newly set table, complete with crisp white tablecloth and sparkling silverware. Soon after we clink our wine glasses, the appetizer is served, and I feel a little jolt of excitement. I’ve never tried caviar in my life, and my first bite of the fish eggs, which are served with salmon, boiled egg and potatoes, surprises me. The tiny black pearls are salty and buttery, popping gently in my mouth like tiny bubbles. By the time the main course arrives, I can’t stop grinning. The lobster is cooked with ginger and soy sauce, and I’m thrilled to discover that it is as tender and succulent as it looks.
As I relish every delectable bite, I’ve hardly paid any attention to Ryder. Only after I’ve polished my plate, I notice that he has hardly touched his meal. He is absentmindedly cutting his beef tenderloin, staring up into space with a glazed look in his eyes. I’ve occasionally seen him act like this in the past few weeks, but I was too caught up in my own work to grill him about it. Each time I asked him, he’d wave it away with some excuse. But this time, I’m not letting him get away with it.
“Hey, what’s going on? Are you all right?”
He snaps his head back down and fixes his gaze on me. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“Something’s bothering you, I can tell. What is it?”
“It’s nothing. Let’s just enjoy this trip.”
His lips curl into a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
A realization hits me that makes my stomach churn.
I drop my voice to almost a whisper. “Is—is this about me not moving in with you?”
His brow furrows, and I feel a pang of guilt in my chest. He’s asked me many times to move in with him, but I’ve been holding him off. We come from different worlds—worlds that are poles apart. Living with him would feel like casting my old life aside, and with it, myself and everything I believe in. But I do know one thing: I love him so much, I couldn’t live without him.
I touch his arm. “Ryder, it’s not that I don’t want to. I just want to take it slow. I need to do something for myself first, to become successful.”
He meets my gaze, and a fiery spark jumps at me from his dark pools. “You’re already successful. You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone, especially to me.”
“I just want you to be proud of me.”
His large, warm hand cups my cheek. “Are you kidding me? You have no idea how proud I already am. Look at how you’ve built a life for yourself despite everything that’s happened to you.” He brushes his thumb back and forth along my cheekbone. “I admit, I’m disappointed that you won’t move with me yet. But I’ll give you as much time as you need. I’ll always be there for you. You know that, don’t you?”
Crossing my arms, I lean back. “Well, if it’s not that, then what’s been bugging you?”
He gazes out the window. “Oh, I’m just thinking about some business stuff. Nothing for you to be concerned about.”
A hot flare of anger surges inside of me. He’s hiding something from me. Why? Doesn’t he trust me? What does he think I am, some dumb plaything that’s only good for one thing?
I take a deep breath, willing myself to stay calm. “Ryder, if something is bothering you, I want to know about it. We’ve both been busy, and I know I should’ve asked you about it earlier. Because that’s what couples do, right? Share their problems?”
“I’m just not used to this.” He points at himself, then at me, and back. “I’ve always been on my own. I’ve always solved my own problems.”
“It’s the same for me. But if we want to do this thing, we’ll have to open up to each other. We’re a team now. I’m here for you, just like you’ve always been there for me.”
He lets out a deep sigh, and I can tell he’s warring with himself about whether he should tell me.
“We’ve had a glitch with the company’s computer system. But we’re working on it now. There’s nothing to worry about.”
My stomach drops. “Hey, you shouldn’t have taken me on this trip. You should’ve stayed home to work on your system. I feel bad keeping you from work.”
He shakes his head. “No, don’t feel bad. I told you, it’s all un
der control. And I want to spend more time with you.”
“I guess you’re right. But always tell me what’s on your mind, okay? I’ll do anything I can to help.”
“Hmmm, I’m not sure about that.”
I arch my brow, but before I can kick up a fuss, he gets up and sits next to me, his warm breath caressing my ear. “Because there are some things that I can’t tell.”
His hand slides around my waist.
“Some things are private.”
His mouth hovers over mine.
“Some things don’t need words.”
And his lips crush against mine in a kiss so hungry, so fiery, that everything falls away around me. All I feel are his warm, firm lips on mine, his hot tongue assaulting my mouth, his hands roaming the curves of my body. I fall into him, reciprocating the sheer frenzy and desperation of his kiss. Our tongues tangle feverishly, making up for weeks of frustration, punctuated by short stolen moments of bliss.
Being with him feels so good, so right. He is all I ever need to be happy. And I don’t ever want this to end.
This holiday I’ll make sure it won’t.
Ryder
For an instant, I forget about my problems.
Elle’s soft warm lips, her hand in my hair, her warm body pressed against mine, take me to another world, where everything is perfect, free from the worries that have been plaguing me for weeks. I breathe in her alluring scent of exotic fruit that never fails to make me feel light-headed. Even though I would like nothing more than rip her dress off and take her right here and now, I reluctantly break away from her, leaving us both breathless.
I brush my fingers across her silky cheek, noting how much she has changed for me. Gone are the pink streaks in her hair, her eyebrow piercing, her dark eyeliner. Even though I like her new, softer appearance, I never asked her to change—her tough looks were what attracted me to her in the first place. But I’ll go along with whatever she wants; I won’t ever love her any less. As if that were even possible—my love for her is so immense that I feel my heart overflow just looking at her.
Elle’s eyes are simmering with a mixture of desire and disappointment, and a tinge of guilt touches my chest. I wish I could always give her what she deserves—only the best. And that’s why it pains me to do this.
“I’m sorry, beautiful, but I’ll have to catch up on some work. Why don’t you have a rest?”
I stand and open up her personal closet, handing her a bag of toiletries and a set of pajamas.
“Get changed. I’ll get your bed ready.”
“But I—”
“No buts.” I reach out my hand to help her up from her seat, and when she’s fully upright, I deliver a tight slap on that perfect ass of hers.
“Go on—change.”
Elle glowers at me, raising her finger, but I grab her hand and bring its knuckles to my lips, grinning. She’s so damn adorable when she looks at me like that. And she is insane to think she can pretend to be angry with me when I spot the twinkle in her eye that she’s desperate to suppress. I can’t help but let out a chuckle when she snatches the pajamas from me and stomps off.
As if she’s overheard our conversation, a flight attendant magically appears the moment Elle leaves. With one push of a button on a touchscreen display, she folds out her seat into a bed and covers it with fresh white sheets, a soft cashmere blanket and a pillow.
It stings to look at the inviting bed I know I won’t be able to share with Elle. But when she returns, looking cute in her gray airline PJs, her eyes grow wide at the sight of it, and that soothes my heart. I love seeing her joy and appreciation for the little luxuries I’ve come to take for granted over the years.
“Wow. That’s like a real bed,” she says.
“Try it out. It’s comfortable, probably more so than that lumpy bed of yours.”
“I like my bed,” she growls, but her hand gingerly pressing down on the blanket gives away her curiosity. I take the pile of clothes from her to store them in her closet while she slips under the covers, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
“You’re right,” she says, “it is comfortable.”
“I told you.”
“Mmm. This feels really good. And you know how it would feel even better?”
Her hand emerges from under the covers, reaching for me. “If you’d join me.”
I point to the open side of the suite. “We won’t have much privacy. And I think it’s a bit narrow for both of us.”
“I don’t care.”
Elle sits up, grabs my shirt, and yanks me down, but I just manage to prop myself up on my elbows on either side of her, willing myself to stay strong and not give in, although my body screams the very opposite.
“I’ll make it up to you when we get to the hotel, I promise. And you know I don’t like it when you’re wearing anything in bed but me.”
Tugging on the collar of her soft PJs, I lean in for a kiss, savoring the sweetness of her lips, but before I get lost in it—in her—I press a remote control into her hand.
“In the meantime, enjoy the inflight entertainment.”
I flip the flatscreen TV screen up and press a button on the remote control. All too soon Elle is engrossed in the myriad of entertainment options, and my heart sinks a little when I realize she has forgotten about me.
Sighing, I sink down into my seat and open up my laptop. The churn in my stomach that has tormented me for the past few weeks returns.
I may have told Elle we are taking a fun holiday to China, but that is not entirely true. As I told her, a technical glitch struck my company’s computer system, despite all the state-of-the-art, top-level security measures I had installed. But what I failed to mention is that in that brief time window when the system was down, the stocks I had heavily invested in, plummeted. And I lost a lot of money.
A lot.
It was particularly painful as I had just gone big into the market, using my personal as well as borrowed funds. I was going to make a killing. And a killing it was—to the tune of a hundred million dollars.
For an experienced trader and hedge fund manager like me, it isn’t an amount I’d be overly worried about. I am confident I can earn it back, given some time. But this temporary setback was enough for half of our clients to withdraw their investments immediately, having lost faith in the company—in me.
I tried to convince them not to leave; after all, this has never happened before, ever since I’ve founded my fund management firm five years ago. But nothing I said could sway them; they’d already made up their minds, sweet-talked into joining my competitors. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if one of them has something to do with the computer malfunction.
And now the computer system is down, the company’s income is easily halved, while outgoings remain constant—rent, wages, and other overheads, not to mention charity donations and investments. So I have to find a way to bridge the multi-million dollar shortfall. If I can’t, everything I worked so hard for throughout the years will vanish in a flash.
I double-click on the presentation I’ve prepared for this trip and flip through the slides. All I need is a few big investors, preferably far from the tight-knit world of Wall Street, where rumors spread like wildfire. So where else to turn but China, the fastest growing market in the world? If I am lucky I will be able to attract the clients I need in the next few days, when we attend an exclusive luxury-goods trade show in China, followed by some business meetings in Hong Kong.
If I can secure the necessary investments, Elle and I can have the holiday I promised her. More importantly, I can convince her to move in with me. I don’t know why she has been so hesitant, insisting on keeping her apartment where she stays for a couple of nights a week. Doesn’t she know how much I want her—need her—to stay with me?
We’ve been too busy lately to talk, to really talk. But it’s been virtually impossible with the problems that have been keeping me up at night. Right now, my first priority is business.
&nbs
p; I must save my company. And this has nothing to do with pride or fear of failure—I don’t care a damn about any of that. What I care about is the people who will be affected by my firm’s collapse: my staff, our suppliers, the loyal clients who have stuck by me. And more importantly, the homeless families who are waiting to be accommodated in a new housing development I’m funding in Chelsea. This would give them the break in life they so desperately need. But without my funding, the project will be scrapped, and hundreds of children will continue to live rough on the streets.
And that is why I won’t be able to tell Elle the real reason why we’re taking this trip. I wouldn’t be able to bear it: to see her crushed when the project she is so passionate about is in jeopardy. I will have to keep it from her; there’s no point letting her worry about this. In spite of her good intentions, she won’t be able to help me. She would just start worrying, and that is the last thing I want her to do. Lately she has been so happy, and she has every right to be. Her hard work has borne fruit—she has had plenty of partnership and sponsorship offers for her app project. No, I don’t have the right to burden her with my problems.
A ping snaps my eyes back to the screen. An unread email message is waiting for me in my inbox. It is from Alliance Partners, one of my oldest clients, with the subject “Thank you.” A feeling of dread comes over me, and my hand trembles when I open it. The first line proves me right: “It is with regret that we will have to withdraw our funds from Crest Management.”
Shit. Another client leaving.
I drop my head and wedge it between my clammy hands, my fingers massaging my temples to soothe the splitting ache that is threatening to burst my skull. This trip has to work out, even if it’s going to be the death of me. Because for the first time in my career I realize: I could lose it all. Not only my money and the material goods that go with it, but even my relationship with Elle.
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