She could never say no to Vinny.
I want to get the door and help her from the car, but I already know I’m pushing it. She will hate all this, and I have a weekend planned that’s full of it. Instead, I plant my feet to the ground, pushing back my shoulders and lifting my chin.
I’m ready for you, Pix.
She steps from the car in her gym tights and vest, her hair piled high on her head. And with the pink hue of the setting sun, I’m certain that she has never looked more perfect.
I struggle to gauge her mood as she walks to me, her thick hips swaying with each step she takes.
She stops short in front of me, her face emotionless.
* * *
Nina
His eyes pinchin at the corners as he looks down his nose at me, his chin held high. I want to argue, tell him it’s too much and that I won’t go wherever it is he planned for us to go. But what I want more, isn’t for me. It’s for him. Because the way he looks at me with so much uncertainty, that’s what makes me want to jump into his arms and tell him I’d follow him anywhere.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask.
“Can it be a surprise?” He crosses his arms over his broad chest.
“I kinda hate surprises.” I lick across my bottom lip, watching as his eyes follow the movement. “Would you like it if I told you I was going to suck your cock but leave you in suspense for hours as to where and how I planned to do it?”
“I—“
“Would be excited at the prospect and would want to know more. Am I right?” I eye his crotch, raising my brows when I spot his growing erection.
“Paris, Nina. I’m taking you to Paris.” He grumbles, pulling me to him by the neck and taking my lips in a bruising kiss.
“Okay, Bossman. Paris it is.” I say against his mouth.
* * *
It’slike a small flipping house. Far bigger than my apartment—and it flies. I’m standing beside a large round table on the far left of the plane, wondering if I will ever get used to Mason’s wealth.
I watch him as he speaks with the pilot, who is wearing a polo shirt, cargo shorts and a backwards snapback—nerves flit through me.
Would it be rude to ask for his credentials?
He looks extremely casual.
An attractive blonde-haired woman approaches me, looking at me expectantly as if waiting for me to do something, but I don’t know what.
“Sorry, am I in the way?” I ask, moving to sit on the curved bench seat.
I can feel the panic crawling up my throat.
My idea of a perfect weekend isn’t all of this, but I knowthisis part of the package, and if I want Mase, then I have to accept this too.
“No.” She flashes her perfect white teeth at me. “Miss Anderson, I asked if I could get you a drink. A wine or something stronger if needed?”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Uh, a glass of wine will be fine, thank you.”
I count to ten in my head, reminding myself that this is okay. I can do this and not lose myself or my moral compass along the way.
“You’re sweating,” his soft lips whisper against my ear, and I stand, startled.
“This is all so new to me.” I eye the bar at the other end of the plane. It’s the same size as my kitchen.
