The morning sickness is getting worse. Or maybe it's the nerves about spending two days alone with my boss whose baby I’m pregnant with and he has no idea.
Either way, I'm a mess.
“Emma.”
Donovan’s voice cuts through the hangar, low and controlled. Still dangerous.
Walking toward me, leather duffel in hand, his stride is easy, confident without ever needing to prove it. The kind of man who doesn’t rush because the world moves for him.
"Morning," I manage, hoping I don't look as green as I feel.
His eyes narrow slightly. "You okay? You look pale again.”
"I'm fine. Just not a morning person."
"The flight's two and a half hours. You can sleep on the plane."
Behind him, his jet waits.
And not just a jet.
A sculpted machine of white steel and glass, sleek and predatory like him, its windows are tinted, its lines sharp, almost architectural. It’s the type of aircraft you see on magazine covers next to words like Empire and Power.
“You fly like this often?” I ask, attemptingcasual.
“Only when I don’t feel like wasting time,” he answers.
Of course. Of course he owns a private plane.
"Sounds great," I say, gripping my carry-on a little tighter as another wave of nausea rolls through me.
As he gestures for me to follow him up the steps, something in his posture shifts. Something protective. Observant. Like he’s already tracking me even when he pretends he’s just being professional.
Inside, the jet isn’t a plane…
It’s a penthouse in the sky.
Cream leather seating. Polished wood. A conference table likely worth more than my entire apartment.
There’s even a tiny kitchen.
“This is…” I hesitate.
“Excessive?” he offers, watching me closely.
“Intimidating,” I admit.
His mouth curves. “You’ll get used to it.”
I sink into the seat, which is indeed more comfortable than my bed, and try to focus on breathing steadily.
In through the nose. Out through the mouth. Don't think about how your stomach is currently doing gymnastics.
The plane starts moving, and I close my eyes, willing myself not to be sick.
"Emma?"
I open my eyes to find Donovan watching me, gray eyes turning into slits.
