Billionaire's Flight (Standalone Book) (Billionaire Bad Boy Romance)

by Alexa Davis

  "They're great. The little one just graduated from kindergarten and the older one is headed into third grade next year," he replied with a proud smile. "And, my wife got her RN license last month, so we're doing pretty darn well, if I do say so myself."

  "Hey, that's fantastic! Are you planning a celebration?" I asked.

  "Yeah, Jeannie's parents are taking the kids to Coney Island next weekend, so she and I can spend the day together and do something fun," he said with a wide grin. "We don't get much time alone these days."

  "Man, that sounds like heaven," I said wistfully.

  "Yo, Mr. Dreamer!" Bax called from the other end of the phone. "Hello? Can you get your head out of the clouds and come back to earth?"

  "Oh crap," I muttered as I watched Andrew set up the clothing on the stand in the dressing area and then lay out all of my shower supplies on the counter in the bathroom. "I need to get back to this call, but it's good to see you, Andrew."

  "Is there anything else you need, sir?" he asked.

  "No, I think I'll be fine for now," I said. "But can you check on breakfast for me?"

  "Yes, sir," he nodded, He pulled a phone out of his pocket, tapped the screen, and waited for a few moments before looking up and saying, "It's on it's way up now, sir."

  "Great, thank you," I replied.

  "It's my pleasure, sir." He smiled as he crossed the room and quietly exited through the door.

  "Damn, I love this hotel," I said into the phone.

  "Why? What's going on?" Bax asked.

  "I just love how everything makes it feel like home instead of like I'm in a hotel," I said.

  "Well, you are home," he said. "I mean, it's your hotel."

  "I know, but sometimes I don't feel like I'm at home anywhere," I replied. "When I come here, I feel like the staff makes the effort to turn this into someplace that I enjoy being, rather than just someplace I'm passing through."

  "Okay, whatever," Bax sighed. "This sad sack bachelor routine is wearing thin, my friend. When are you going to accept that settling down isn't about finding the perfect girl, it's about finding someone who fits into your life and simply makes it better than it was before?"

  "Easy for you to say," I muttered. "You found your dream girl at twenty-three." Bax was married to his college sweetheart and had an apartment over on East 79th near the Metropolitan Museum.

  "Look, I'm not scolding you, I'm just saying that I think your standards are a little too unreasonable and that maybe if you'd relax them a bit, you'd have better luck," he said. "What about Anna?"

  "What about her?" I asked.

  "Forget it," he said.

  "No, what about her?"

  "She's a nice girl and she comes from a good family," he said. "Why not settle down with her?"

  "She doesn't love me like that," I said flatly.

  "How do you know?"

  "She told me. Last night, in fact," I replied.

  "Damn."

  "Yeah, whatever," I said in a flip tone. "Let's get back to business. What does Mr. Bossy Pants want this morning?"

  "He wants to know when you're going to solve the Sydney problem," Bax said.

  "Didn't you tell him I'm headed there today?"

  "I tried, but you know how he is," he said with an impatient sigh. "He wants to see the evidence for himself."

  "Fine, I'll deal with him," I said. "Anything else?"

  "Nope, Sydney is the main issue," he replied. "Everything else is secondary and I can deal with it for now."

  "Okay, well then, let me get ready to meet his majesty," I sighed.

  "I hope you ordered a big breakfast," Bax said.

  "The biggest," I assured him. "Talk to you later."

  When breakfast arrived a few minutes later, I was glad to find out that in my sleepy state, I had actually ordered the biggest breakfast on the menu.

  I sighed, looked at the room server, and said, "You're going to need to bring another pot of coffee, though."

  Chapter Eight

  Emily

  Three in the morning came entirely too early. I hit the snooze button on the alarm I'd set and slowly rolled over. Tom was sound asleep next to me, snoring so loud that I was surprised I hadn't woken up earlier. He'd be out for half the day, but since it was his day off, it didn't matter.

  I, on the other hand, had a flight to catch. Trish and I were joining the crew in Los Angeles and heading to Sydney for the next five days. We'd fly today then spend four days in Australia and then fly the return trip together. I was surprised that they were putting me on an overseas flight for my first time in first class, but Linda had told me that they were short on crews and didn't want to sacrifice an experienced crew to a long trip like this one. Besides, she'd made a point of telling me that my customer service ratings were hovering at 92%, which was almost unheard of, so she had no problem adding me to the first class crew knowing that I'd be at the top of my game.

  I didn't feel like I was at the top of my game as I stood in the kitchen and poured water into the coffee maker. As the coffee brewed, I scooped some yogurt out of the container and topped it with fresh blueberries and a handful of nuts and seeds. I needed to get myself up to speed quickly and make sure that I didn't lag today. I was worried that if I messed up, they'd immediately demote me and I'd be back serving soft drinks and peanuts in economy on long flights from Los Angeles to Minneapolis or worse, Cleveland.

  The coffee finished brewing just as I finished my breakfast, so I poured myself a big mug and added some cream before heading to the second bedroom that I used as my storage closet and packing space. I carefully rolled and stored enough clothing for the hop as I sipped from the steamy hot cup. I remembered to toss in a bathing suit, even though I wasn't sure if we'd have a pool at the hotel or not. Can't hurt.

  I moved into the bathroom and took a shower then dried my unruly hair and pinned it up in a neat bun at the nape of my neck before applying the requisite cosmetics. There were no hard fast rules about cosmetics other than they couldn't be distracting or unnatural, but we all knew that makeup was part of the costume and that customers expected glamorous, well-dressed, polished attendants on their trips. I didn't wear much make-up while I was off duty, but I was happy to have the chance to play with it while working. Trish had given me some pointers about my eyebrows and some tips on how to make my lipstick last longer, but I hadn't quite figured that one out yet.

  I smiled at myself in the mirror and then headed back to my dressing room to don my uniform and zip up my travel case. I liked this morning ritual before a trip, there was something soothing about following the routine and knowing that in twenty-four hours, I'd be unpacking some of my things in a hotel room halfway around the world. The adventure was what I loved, and I never got tired of it. I pulled on my pantyhose and then slipped into the wrap dress all the female flight attendants wore before adding the final touch, a red scarf tied jauntily around my neck and a flight cap that many of the my fellow attendants hated, but I actually loved. It made me feel exotic, and as someone who'd grown up feeling completely average and decidedly unspecial, I liked the feeling. Besides, once we were in the air, we were free to take it off and relax. I never did.

  I slipped my watch onto my wrist and looked at the time. I had to hurry or I would be late and miss the flight. I quickly put on the cubic zirconia studs that my mother had bought me for my last birthday, and then slid my feet into my navy pumps, zipped my bag and set it on the ground, and turned to survey the room. I had everything I needed for the trip.

  I stuck my head in the bedroom to see if Tom was anywhere near awake, but when I heard him snoring, I knew he wasn't. I decided to leave him a note on the kitchen counter, but I couldn't come up with anything other than:

  Tommy - Hopping flight #3751 to LA then #4315 to Sydney. Be back on Sunday. There are meals in the freezer. 350 degrees for 25 mins and you'll have piping hot food! Have a good week. Love, E. ps - Don't forget to pay the electric bill on Friday and water the plants in the front yard!r />
  I tucked the electric bill under the note and hoped that he'd remember to do it on Friday when we both got paid. We were behind in paying the bill, but if he did it before Friday, we'd bounce a check and that would mean an additional $35.00 we didn't have.

  I smiled weakly as I looked around. Our house suddenly looked drab and shabby, and I felt overwhelmed by how much work we still needed to do to get it into shape. I stopped myself from descending too far into the world of negative thinking by reminding myself that we'd faced challenges before and this house was the least of them. Having calmed the sinking feeling, I grabbed the handle of my bag and headed out to the car.

  It would have to be good enough for now. All of it.

  Chapter Nine

  Austin

  I scanned the Sydney news as I ate breakfast and was relieved to find that the labor skirmish hadn't yet made it into the papers there. It gave me hope that a compromise was still possible and that the construction of the new Marks Casino and Hotel would stay on schedule.

  I dressed carefully in the suit that Andrew had brought up for me. I wanted to look professional, but not over the top formal for my meeting with Daniel, and I wanted to be comfortable on the flight to Sydney. It was asking a lot of suit, but Gucci had never let me down before and it wasn't about to start today. The suit was a steel blue color with narrow pants and a fitted jacket. Under it, I wore a shirt a few shades darker and left the top three buttons open. I hated ties, so I avoided them whenever possible. Besides, I knew that not wearing a tie would irritate Daniel and I took every opportunity to do it.

  I took one last look in the mirror and smiled. I looked casual, but in charge, which was exactly the message I wanted to send. I called down to the front desk and asked them to have the driver bring my car around as I gulped the last bit of coffee in my cup and wondered what kind of mood Daniel would be in.

  Daniel Wentworth had been my father's second in command, in much the same way that Bax was mine. Except where Bax was a Harvard educated economist, Daniel was an old school thug in an expensive suit and that meant he was far more dangerous. Daniel had done my father's dirty work as he built his empire, and he'd been handsomely rewarded with promotion after promotion until he was named the Vice President of Global Operations shortly before my father died. It was widely assumed that Daniel was next in line for CEO, but my father's will had upended all of that, leaving everyone in shock when I was named head of Marks Enterprises.

  No one had seen it coming, not least of which Daniel. In fact, it was so out of the blue that I don't even think my mother knew about the will before it was read. She and my father had had a long contentious relationship spanning almost three decades. Despite the fact that he was three decades her senior, refused to leave his wife, and had left my mother alone and pregnant at twenty-three, she stayed faithful to him the entire time he was alive. However, she also kept the secret of my lineage from me and lied about who my father was. It took me years to forgive her for that.

  My father, Austin Edward Marks – or Eddie, as he was better known – was a tough old man who had worked hard to build the empire he found himself heading at thirty-five. He was a kid who grew up in the Bronx and understood the value of hard work, but he also had a knack for predicting what would be the next big thing and the ability to charm even the toughest businessmen. However, my father's "charm" was something that needed backing up by guys like Daniel, and he wasn't shy about employing the muscle it took to make a deal work. It took my father two decades to build Marks Enterprises, but once he did, there was no turning back.

  For as tough as Eddie was, he also had a softer side. He loved his family and later, when I learned more about him from the employees at various hotels and casinos, I learned that he had also loved my mother a great deal, but had felt deeply guilty about the position he'd put her in. I still didn't understand why, if he felt so guilty, he hadn't provided for us during my childhood, but then there were a lot of things about my father than didn't make sense.

  Like why he had appointed me as CEO of Marks Enterprises in his will.

  At the age of eighty-five, my father had unexpectedly dropped dead of a heart attack on one of his golf courses. He'd just bogied the ninth hole and later his playing partner would claim that it was because my father had simply wanted to avoid paying up on the bet they'd made over who would win the round.

  Two days after the funeral, the lawyer had come to our apartment on Grove Street and sat down to tell us about the will. He wasn't able to answer any questions about why my father had done what he'd done, he'd only read the will and let us know that my mother would be the beneficiary of a life insurance policy that would ensure she was taken care of for the rest of her life, and that, after a two year period of training, I would be installed as the new CEO of Marks Enterprises.

  To say we were shocked was an understatement.

  It took a while for it all to sink in, but once the initial shock had passed, I got pissed at my mother for lying to me for so many years. I didn't speak to her for a week, but when the reality of what I was going to have to do set in, I knew that I couldn't be isolated from the one person who knew me best, so I walked downstairs to the kitchen and made peace with her. And while she readily accepted my apology, she still didn't explain what had happened between her and my father so many years before. I let it go and hoped that eventually I'd be able to ferret out the whole story and understand why my mother had remained loyal to my father for so many years.

  I sighed as I slipped into the backseat of the waiting car and snuck a peek at my phone. I had exactly one hour to wrap this up and get on the plane to L.A. Meetings with Daniel were always complicated by the fact that he felt the need to drag several of his men into them. I preferred to meet one-on-one, but since he was from the old school, I understood that he still felt like he needed protection. Though what he thought a thirty-one-year-old like me was going to do to a guy in his late sixties was beyond me. I just wanted to navigate the waters as carefully as possible and escape unscathed.

  Chapter Ten

  Emily

  I made it to the airport in plenty of time and met up with Trish in the lobby. She was one of those women that got noticed no matter what she was wearing. Tall and curvy with emerald green eyes that always looked like she was keeping a secret, Trish was everything that I wasn't. In fact, I often preferred standing next to her because it allowed me to disappear in her wake and move about unseen.

  It wasn't that I thought I was unattractive, it's just that I'd grown up knowing that I was average. Average looks, average grades, average life – it all inspired me to dream of bigger and better things, but it never carried the weight of expectation that it did for my friends who were prettier or smarter. My mother was supportive and kind, but she never pushed me to excel or stand out, probably because she herself was someone who had survived by being average.

  She'd married my father the year after they'd graduated from high school. By that time, my father, George Martin, decided to join the Marines and my mother had accepted the fact that she would be a military wife, constantly moving from one place to another, never really setting down roots. She was seven months pregnant with me by the time my father left for basic training and was grateful that he'd gotten to come home and meet his newborn daughter before they shipped him overseas. She worried, but knew that my father was a tough man who would do everything in his power to make it back to his wife and infant daughter. Apparently, whatever my father was capable of wasn't enough because he died during a fire-fight in Fallujah just before my first birthday.

  I don't remember the period after my father's death at all, except for one clear picture I have of being lifted up by my grandfather to place a small American flag on my father's casket. It might be that I remember that because the newspaper printed a picture of me doing it and my mother had it framed and hung it in the kitchen of our small apartment, but I prefer to think that I actually remember it.

  After my father died, my mot
her took a job with a local real estate firm and worked as a secretary while she scrimped and saved enough to be able to put me through college. We didn't have a lot, but she always made sure we had enough to subscribe to National Geographic and every month when it arrived, she would cook a special dinner and we'd sit down together and learn about all the places in the world we'd never imagined existed. And, we'd dream about seeing them all.

  One of my favorite weekend pastimes was to take the old National Geographic magazines and cut out the pictures of all the places I wanted to visit and then paste them into a spiral bound notebook my mother bought at the Dollar Store. By the time I entered high school, I had compiled six travel books and was actively looking for a job so that I could save the money necessary to be able to actually visit the places I dreamed about.

  One afternoon on my way home from school, a cute boy from my English class pulled up beside me and asked me if I wanted a ride home. Unable to believe that he was talking to me, I shook my head and kept walking. He followed me until he realized that I wasn't going to speak and then he parked the car and got out and walked beside me. He carried on an entire conversation for the both of us as we walked back to the apartment complex where my mother and I lived.

  He didn't ask if I wanted him to come upstairs, he just smiled and said, "Thanks for letting me walk you home, Emily. It was really nice. I hope you'll let me do it again."

  I silently nodded and he smiled, touched the brim of his Yankees baseball cap, and turned to walk back to his car. It occurred to me later that I didn't even know his name.

  The next day in English, I turned around to see him sitting behind me. He waved and smiled, but didn't make any overtures. I figured that he didn't want the other kids in our class to know he had talked to me, but after class he walked up with a big grin and said, 'Hi Emily! Can I walk you home again?" in front of a group of the popular kids, all of who stared at him in surprise.