This definitely couldn’t be my real life, but I supposed it wasn’t. It was, however,hisreal life.
The stairs were already lowered, just waiting for me to board. I shook my head slightly, unable to believe that I was here. Willingly. With a Westwood of all people, and I wasn’t even the least bit pissed off about it. Instead, there was just a tiny bit of excitement in my stomach.
The driver opened my door for me and I climbed out of the car, pausing for a moment and pretending to adjust my sunglasses just to have the opportunity to take it all in. It wasn’t every day a girl like me got to hitch a ride like this.
I had done well for myself, sure. I had been smart with money, worked damn hard, and clawed my way into roomsthat hadn’t been built for women. I also could’ve been here eight years ago, sitting comfortably as a partner in the firm if I hadn’t followed a man across continents while he chased bones, history, and whatever else archaeologists did when they disappeared for months at a time.
But even then, a private jet had never been in the cards for me. Ever.
Neither had the man currently leaning against the open door with his sleeves rolled up and his sunglasses on, smiling down at me like this was all perfectly reasonable for a Thursday morning.
“Darling,” he called, his grin wide. “Come join me.”
“Sweetheart,” I said back in the same playful tone, lowering my sunglasses down the bridge of my nose and staring up at him. “Are we rich?”
“Very,” he said without hesitation. Laughing, he pushed off the door and reached for my hand when I got to the stairs. I let him take it and tried to pretend like this wasn’t the most ridiculous thing I’d done in a long time. When I stepped foot inside the plane, however, it only got even more ridiculous. The chairs weren’t just seats. They were buttery-soft, leather recliners, the finishing all polished wood.
The cabin was spacious, too. Tall enough to stand upright in, to move, and to breathe without feeling crammed into a metal tube with strangers and questionable air circulation. This wasn’t that at all. It was the epitome of luxury and class, and it belonged to Jesse—of all people.
“This is obscene,” I muttered under my breath.
“Thank you,” Jesse said, as proud as if he’d personally designed it.
My eyes rolled. “I wasn’t complimentingyou.”
“Whatever you say,baby.” He smirked, already moving past me. “Have a seat. Make yourself comfortable.”
As I did, settling into one of the seats by the window, he spoke briefly with someone I assumed was the pilot before joining me again. He still hadn’t told me where we were going, so I cocked my head and kept a straight face.
“I ran a check,” I said as Jesse sat down across from me. “You’re not wanted for any crimes that you’re running away from.”
“That’s great,” he replied without skipping a beat. “It’s always nice to start a trip without legal complications.”
“Speak for yourself,” I said. He laughed and something about it, about how easy and natural it was, made me smile. “You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope. Just sit back and enjoy the flight,” he said. “I’m afraid I need to get some work done, so I won’t be the greatest company, but let me know if you need anything?”
I nodded. “Fantastic. I guess it’s a good thing I brought my laptop along as well, then. The flight will be long enough to actually get something done?”
“Yeah.” He raked a hand through his hair and offered me a smile. “It’ll be worth it, though.”
“I don’t doubt that in the slightest.”
Somehow, that really was true. I didn’t know this man very well but I had a feeling that if he did something, he did it properly. Wherever we were going, it would definitely be worth spending a few hours in the lap of absolute luxury.
We hunkered down then, both of us pulling out our laptops and settling in with coffee we were served once we reached cruising altitude. I was answering emails, preparing case files, and reading the precedent the paralegals had sent me.
Jesse was focused too, which I hadn’t entirely expected, if I was honest. There was something almost jarring about the shift from loud, animated, chaos incarnate to sharp, efficient, and decisive.
I liked it. At some point though, several long hours later, he closed his laptop and leaned back, reaching for something on the side table.
When I realized what it was, I blinked hard, staring at the actual, physical copy of a newspaper when he flipped it open. “Are you really eighty years old?”
He didn’t even look up. “I’ve been called worse.”
I leaned forward slightly, catching sight of the front page, and it was then that I understood. There he was, front and center, a picture of him leaving the skyscraper after the investor dinner the other night, his expression something between amused and unapologetic.
“Do you always carry around stories about yourself?” I asked.