Time passed, but I wasn’t sure how much or how long until a knock on the door caused me to open my eyes.
“Ms. Hawkins, Marianne has completed her checklist. She’s ready to take off if you are?”
On shaky legs, I stood. Surprisingly, my reflection looked better. Though my makeup was smudged and hair tousled, there was once again natural color in my cheeks.
Was I ready?
Could I say I wasn’t? Could I get off this plane?
Cupping some water into my hand, I rinsed my mouth. Another splash on my cheeks and I wiped the dark mascara smudges from beneath my eyes. After smoothing my skirt, I took a deep breath and opened the door to Jana’s smiling face. I peered over her shoulder toward the front of the plane. From the angle and distance, it was difficult to see into the table room. Nevertheless, I could see that the door to the outside was already closed. My escape route was gone.
I inhaled and exhaled in submission. “Where should I sit?”
“That’s up to you. Your carry-on is in the bedroom. However, for takeoff and landing, you must be seat-belted.”
I made my way to one of the theater-like chairs facing the large television and sat.
“May I bring you a drink?”
I thought how wonderful it would be to have wine or perhaps a martini. Would she have whatever I ordered? By my surroundings, I was certain she would. Patrick could deliver me to Sterling Sparrow passed-out drunk. That would show him.
Then again, the thought left me with a sinking feeling. It would be better to have my faculties about me when we met again. I looked up at Jana’s expectant expression. Oh, that’s right; she wanted me to answer her question. “Water would be nice.”
“As soon as Marianne clears me to walk around, I’ll bring you some. Ice?”
“Just a bottle is fine.”
“Have a nice flight, Ms. Hawkins. And don’t forget your gift.”
My gift.
Another empty box or a threat?
Who was left for him to threaten?
My gift could wait.
Whether it was Marianne’s skills or the plane itself, I barely noticed the smooth takeoff as we left the ground and glided through the air. Soft white clouds appeared out the window as we flew through them and above. Blue sky shone with the evening sun’s rays. A few moments later, Jana appeared with my water as well as a plate of cheese and fruit. Though I didn’t want to accept, my empty stomach churned and grumbled, telling me that food was welcomed.
“Would you like to watch a movie or listen to music?”
“Music would be nice.” My voice was barely my own as I obediently answered, returning her kindness. Was it kindness? Did she know she was transporting someone against her will?
Yet it wasn’t.
Sterling Sparrow had orchestrated the whole thing. He wasn’t kidnapping me—not technically. I had willingly packed my belongings. I’d walked to the car and been driven without complaint. I’d climbed the stairway entering this gilded cage and played the agreeable participant.
If Jana or even Patrick would ever be questioned, they could honestly say I’d traveled willingly.
Soft music filled the air. At first, I was surprised by the selection; it was one from my work playlist. And then so was the second. I reached for my phone. It was still with me. How did he continue to know so much about me?
My nerves pulled tighter with each mile. Alone in the cabin, I had time to allow my mind to wander. I tried to concentrate on the music, yet with each note, all I could do was contemplate my questions and worries. I looked about, wondering where Jana, Keaton, and Patrick were. Shouldn’t I at least be able to hear them? It wasn’t like they could go far.
With my water gone and most of the food consumed, I settled back and continued listening to the familiar songs. Though I knew them all by heart, my mind didn’t register the lyrics. More questions came, each one more imperative than the one before.
What would happen when we landed? Would I have my own room? Why had he even mentioned that? What did he expect? My gut told me I knew the answer to that question. He had been very direct about what he expected—sex.
What did that make me? Was I his whore, girlfriend, or fiancée?
I’d been promised to him.
For what?
To be his wife?
The cheese and fruit stewed and churned with each question. And then I recalled what Jana had said: Don’t forget your gift.
My head said not to go in the bedroom, to stay where I was. “Don’t go,” I said softly in the lonely cabin. Yes, I could talk to myself. There was no one else to talk to, making even my own voice comforting. I could use the box on the wall and call Jana. Maybe she’d tell me more about Mr. Sparrow.
I realized she’d been the first person to willingly give me information: he traveled frequently. He spent more time working than resting. He transported clients and employees. Maybe she could tell me who he really was.
My fingers found their way to the buckle, undoing my seat belt as I stood.
I eyed the panel on the wall, but that wasn’t where my feet were taking me.
How in the hell did Sterling expect me to follow his directions when I couldn’t even follow my own?
Steely determination mixed with unhealthy curiosity pushed me toward the aft of the plane. To the left was the hallway that contained the bathroom where I’d vomited. Farther down was another door, but something told me that wasn’t where I wanted to go. The length of the wall to the right of the hallway made me think there was the bedroom. Slowly, I turned the handle on the doorway to whatever was beyond the wall.
I was right.
As the door pushed inward, I took in the room complete with a king-sized bed. A fucking giant king-sized bed on an airplane. Ignoring the large gift box on the bed, I opened a sliding door to a mostly empty closet. There was a suit hanging inside along with a white shirt. I lifted an arm to my nose, inhaling the spicy cologne. Quickly I dropped the material and closed the sliding door. There was one more door. I opened it to a second bathroom, complete with a shower.
Of course. Every airplane needs a private en suite bathroom.
For some reason I recalled a television show called Pimp My Ride or was it Truck? The point was that truckers made the personal area of their semi-trucks amazing. Most had bedrooms, but I remembered one with a pinball machine. In a truck.
That was how I felt in this plane. It was as if Sterling had instructed someone to pimp his plane with the best and most outlandish accessories. I half giggled, wondering if I searched long enough, I’d find a pinball machine.
Taking a deep breath, I went to the bed and sat on the edge. The mattress was unusually high. The cover was plush beneath my touch as I stared at the gift. This box was black and the bow was white and black. I recognized the Saks Fifth Avenue packaging. They were one of Sinful Threads’ distributors.
Untying the bow, I lifted the lid and pushed back the tissue paper.
A gasp came from my lips.
This box wasn’t empty.
The small card atop the contents had Araneae on the outside of the envelope.
Before opening the note, I reached into the depths and removed a spectacular dress. It was a deep ruby red, and judging by the designer label, it cost more than anything Sinful Threads sold, and we priced our merchandise high.
Sheer, silky thigh-high stockings were held together by another black and white bow. And at the end of the long box were two smaller boxes. Inside the larger one was a stunning pair of Saint Laurent red patent-leather sandals. I didn’t need to read the sole to know the brand. The sandals had the signature logo heel that was at least four inches high. I opened the smallest box to a long platinum necklace and dangling diamond earrings.
Lifting one of the earrings from the velvet box, I inspected the quality.
Surely these weren’t real?
Right. Saint Laurent shoes and cubic zirconia earrings. Damn. He’d dropped some serious money on this outfit. But f
rom the looks of the plane, serious money wasn’t an issue.
He must sell a lot of real estate.
My hands shook as I reached for and opened the envelope.
Araneae,
In this box you’ll find the wrapping for my delivery. The bathroom has been supplied with everything you’ll need to prepare yourself.
As with any gift, I am counting the minutes until I can tear the wrapping away and reveal what is mine.
Sterling
Was I going to do this?
As panic and uncertainty flooded my circulation, I pulled my phone from the pocket of my skirt. We’d been in the air for over an hour and a half. How much time did I have? Why hadn’t I opened this sooner?
I rushed into the bathroom and began opening drawers. They were filled with cosmetics—all high-end. In the shower were shampoos and conditioner as well as perfumed soaps and lotions. I opened more drawers to other items: brushes, combs, hairdryer, curling wand, straightener, and even a razor.
Was that for my legs or somewhere else?
Oh hell no.
I’m a real blonde, and I had no intention of erasing the evidence.
I stared at the supplies. There was no way I had enough time to do whatever he wanted me to do.
Did I even want to?
I didn’t.
Then again, if my goal was to obtain information from him, was it smart to begin this deal by disobeying his instructions?
What had he said about my library research? While technically not a direct violation of what you’d been told, should warrant reprimand. Again, reprimand? What did that mean?
As my heart pounded, I went back to the bedroom. On the wall was another panel like the one in the main cabin. I pushed the intercom.
“Yes, this is Keaton. May I help you?”
“Um, this is Kennedy…Ms. Hawkins.” No shit. He knew who I was.
“Yes, Ms. Hawkins. May I help you with something?”
“I was wondering how much time I have until we land.”
“You will need to be seated in fifty-seven minutes. We will land in sixty-eight.”
Well, that seemed rather precise.
“Is there any bad weather expected?” I didn’t want to be in a shower with a razor and hit an air pocket or some terrible turbulence.
“No, ma’am. The captain plans on a continued smooth flight.”
Less than forty minutes later, freshly showered, teeth brushed, made-up, and wrapped in a sinfully plush towel, I approached the bed where I’d left the contents of the box. Suspiciously missing from the collection were underclothes. I wouldn’t need a bra or even be able to wear one with the dress’s plunging neckline, but panties seemed like a good plan.
It was then that I recalled my carry-on bag. I looked around. Jana had said it was in the bedroom. I hadn’t noticed it before on a stand against the wall. I said a silent thank-you for my traveling routines. Whenever I traveled overnight, especially if my baggage was checked, which is what I’d expected, I also packed a small nylon bag within my carry-on that contained essentials—a toothbrush, underwear, and pajamas. I’d never needed them until now.
The dress fit like a glove, the bodice tight around my breasts and ribs as the skirt flared at my hips. The coolness of the platinum necklace chilled my skin as it fell between my breasts and I secured the earrings in place. One by one, I slipped my feet into the heeled sandals.
I stood motionless in front of a full-length mirror. My reflection was different than it had been when I arrived, and while I didn’t like the reason for what I’d done—it felt too much like submission—I nevertheless looked good. The person in the mirror was the woman Louisa always said I could be.
No, I was the person who would take Mr. Sterling Sparrow to his knees.
“Okay, Mr. Sparrow. I complied. Now it’s your turn.” I don’t think I said it aloud, but I may have.
I reached out to the wall, my first step in the tall heels a bit wobbly. “Come on, Kenni. You’re not going to seduce him if you fall on your face.” I took another step and then another. By the time I made it back out into the cabin area and to my seat, I was as steady as the luxurious airplane.
“Ms. Hawkins,” Jana said, coming from behind. As soon as she saw me, she smiled. “You look lovely.”
That should have made me feel good—that’s how normal people react to a compliment. Yet it didn’t. I’d done as he said—cleaned myself, brushed my teeth, shaved my legs, styled, and basically prepared myself as a sacrifice for slaughter. I couldn’t think about that. I had to stay strong.
“Thank you, Jana,” I managed.
“I was asked to inform you that after we land, Patrick will pull the car onto the tarmac. After your luggage is loaded into the car, you will be ready to go. Before we land, may I get you anything?”
“Do you have whiskey?” I wasn’t sure where the question came from. Perhaps it was my subconscious knowing I needed some liquid confidence to carry on, to be “ready to go.”
Her cheeks rose. “On the rocks?”
“Straight.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
As she started to walk away, an image of Sparrow’s dark eyes materialized in my mind. “Make it a double,” I called as I secured my seat belt.
The amber liquid burned for only a second before numbing my throat as its potent effect slowed my rapid pulse and warmed my circulation.
“You can do this,” I said aloud, getting quite used to talking audibly to myself.
I wasn’t certain what made me do it—a sense, a feeling, a presence…
I looked up to the doorway beside the television and sucked in a breath. The previously open space was now filled with his broad shoulders and height. Like the image I’d had, he’d materialized. Yet he wasn’t an apparition. The mountain of a man was real.
In stunned silence, I scanned him up and down. His clothes were casual compared to the outfit he’d prepared for me. He wore blue jeans, worn in all the right places, hanging low from his hips, and showcasing his long legs and thick, powerful thighs. His collarless shirt fit well, highlighting a broad neck, a defined torso, and broad biceps.
Though I could gaze upon his body for hours, that wasn’t what stilled my pulse to the point of feeling faint. It was his eyes, the way they looked, not at me but into me. No longer was I imagining his dark stare. It was trained on me.
How was he here?
We hadn’t landed.
“Sterling?”
The tips of his lips moved upward as his penetrating stare scorched my skin. From the tips of my toes in the ridiculously high shoes, all the way to the chain lying between my breasts, and up to my recently styled hair, he took in every inch. Each second his eyes roamed was the strike of a match, igniting tiny fuses and detonating each of my nerves, until my skin peppered with goose bumps and my nipples hardened.
That wasn’t the only effect of his stare. Thank God I’d brought underwear.
I gripped the armrest as the airplane lurched, descending quicker than before. As if physics played no role in Sterling Sparrow’s existence, other than his eyes and lips, he didn’t move. He didn’t speak.
I squeezed my thighs tighter as I released the armrests and my fingers balled into fists at my sides.
The silence turned deafening, alerting me that the music was no longer playing.
And then, he moved. Step by step, he came closer. Even his movement made no sound, until he gracefully folded his massive body, sitting in the chair to my left. Warmth filled me as he reached for my hand.
I didn’t fight his effort, yet my fingers remained fisted. With an upturn of his grin, he gently pried open my fingers, one by one, until all five were extended in the palm of his large hand. He then leaned forward.
My pulse quickened as his warm lips brushed my knuckles. The connection set off more detonations as parts of my body that had remained untouched heated.
With my hand still in his, Sterling continued his stare. It was as if in that gaze, there w
as concern that if he looked away, I would disappear. His brown eyes grew darker, swirling with emotion and saying what his lips were not.
Finally, I couldn’t take it any longer. “What the hell?” My tone was a meek whisper in contrast to my words. “You’ve been here the entire—”
His finger came to my lips as his deep voice filled the silent cabin. “No, Araneae. Not yet. Let me enjoy my gift and the beautiful wrapping. For soon I will enjoy something even more gorgeous…what’s underneath.”
Araneae 15
The way he was looking at me may be doing something to my body, twisting it in ways I’d only read about in books, but my mind was no longer meek. Alarm and energy surged through me. I was trapped by not only the seat belt but also his stare. With fight or flight my only options, I couldn’t take the confinement any longer. Pulling my hand free of his, I scrambled for the buckle of the seat belt, and reared my head away from his silencing touch.
My head shook from side to side. “No, this isn’t happening.” My tone grew stronger with each word. The buckle opened as I pushed away. I wasn’t his prey nor was he my captor. As I stood and stepped, the high heels and plane’s descent did little to assist in my escape.
Physics may not affect Sterling Sparrow, but apparently the same didn’t apply for me. According to Newton’s law of motion, every object will remain at rest or in uniform motion in a straight line unless compelled to change its state by the action of an external force.
As my mind jumbled and feet shifted, I was surrounded by outside forces, coming at me from every direction.
The lurching of the plane as it continued its descent and the propulsion of my body as I leaped forward worked in tandem to send me hurling toward the wall and television. My hands went out in hopes of saving myself before my face collided with the giant screen.
Mafia Romance Page 10