For me, of course it will be heaven. I’ve been a good girl. Maybe a little too good.
Instead of answering, Hilary smiles, snaps her fingers like some TV witch, and disappears into thin air.
Typical Hilary.
“Wait! Don’t go!”
A door creaks open in the darkness. I smell him before I see him. A delicious scent of musk and some spice wafts toward me.
Then a dark figure appears. He’s practically floating, though the plane still swings back and forth.
“Are you all right?” Slayer says, sitting beside me. His black silk robe seems less like Slayer's armor and more like something Sam would wear in his private moments.
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “No, I’m really not.”
He wraps his muscular arm around me, and suddenly I feel safe. Secure. Protected.
“Have you felt this level of turbulence before?” I ask.
“Of course,” he says. “I travel all over the world.”
He pulls me closer, and I snuggle in.
“I...saw my twin a moment ago,” I say. “You remember I told you about her.”
“What did she say?”
“It wasn’t a conversation.”
We fall silent. I rest my head against his chest and feel myself relax as the vibrations in the plane level off. My eyes slowly close.
Sometime later daylight breaks through the plane’s windows, and I smell the aroma of fresh coffee.Where am I?Suddenly I remember Slayer was here. His arm around me. Now I’m alone. He’s gone.
“Bix, you survived,” says Milo, coming toward me with a cup of coffee. “You’d better freshen up in your room. We’re landing soon. St. Tropez awaits!”
CHAPTER 24
BIX
The limousine ride from the Marseilles airport to Saint-Tropez seems to take as long as the plane journey itself.
I’m only too happy to feel the cool, conditioned air of the Hotel Majestic when we finally arrive, my legs stiff from sitting so long.
The lobby is bright and modern, with marble floors and walls and red-velvet furniture.
Colorful paintings and photographs of sixties movie star Brigitte Bardot line the walls, capturing the glamorous history of this playground for the rich and famous.
Slayer was cool and aloof in the limo. He barely acknowledged my existence beyond a curt nod, and he said nothing about last night’s turbulence.
Yet now that we’re making our first public appearance as a couple, he’s transformed.
“Ready for our debut?” he murmurs, so close that his breath tickles my ear.
Before I can answer, his arm slides around my waist, drawing me against his side possessively. The sudden heat of his body against mine makes my breath catch.
“Absolutely,” I manage, summoning my best adoring-girlfriend smile.
“Remember,” he says, voice low, “we’re madly in love. Try to look less terrified.”
