“Wherearewe going?” I demanded, folding my arms and desperately trying to ignore the writhing woman in Jasper’s lap. “In case you forgot, no one has filled me in onanything, least of all where the fuck we’re going today. I don’t know shit about your business, so it’s pretty stupid to drag me into any sort of meeting.”
“You don’t need to know, Butterfly,” Beck answered, not taking his eyes from his computer for even a second. “You’re only here as a show of power. To prove that the Delta is not weakened by Oscar’s death. We are still five successors strong. Five votes.”
I wanted to argue, but the pilot stepped through the little cockpit door and cleared his throat. “Uh, Celia? We need to take off.” He gave the woman who was clearly mid-orgasm, writhing all over Jasper’s lap—and hand—a pointed look and indicated toward the open door. For a moment I thought he was telling her to get off the plane, but when she huffed and stood up, tugging her skirt back in place, it suddenly clicked. This was our flight attendant.
“Sit down, Butterfly,” Beck ordered me casually, nodding at the plush, cream leather recliner facing his. “We have a decent flight ahead of us and I’d rather not find out if you get air sick.” He arched a brow at me and my cheeks flushed hot. Goddamn tequila.
I wanted so badly to cut him down with my words, but my head still pounded and my stomach hurt from the earlier vomiting. So instead of whipping out my sassy pants, I slid into the waiting armchair and buckled my seatbelt.
When I said nothing, Beck cleared his throat, his gaze turning to the small drinks table near the window. A bottle of water and packet of painkillers sat there, waiting for me, like freaking magic.
“If you knew I’d be here, why mute my phone?” I asked, taking the pills out of the packet and washing two down with a gulp of water.
Beck sighed and closed his laptop, sliding it into a pocket beside his seat. “When you noticed I’d muted your phone, what was your first thought?” The way he looked at me, I knew I’d walked into a trap, but my poor hungover brain couldn’t figure out how or why.
“That you didn’t want me to make this flight,” I replied, then took another long sip of water. Holy crap I needed that water.
Beck raised one of those dark brows at me, his gray eyes full of dark amusement. “So what did you do?”
Realizing I’d done exactly what he wanted me to do, I sighed heavily and put my water down. I needed a damn minute to get a hold of my temper because I was too fucking tired to start stabbing people. Also, I had no sharp objects on hand.
“You’re a prick, Sebastian,” I murmured. Tipping my head back, I closed my eyes and tried to block his presence out.
Sometime later, the plane gently rocked as it began moving, and I tried to breathe deeply. I’d never been airsick before, but I’d also never vomited in a Bugatti so never say never.
For as long as I could, I kept my eyes shut and prayed for sleep. I had no idea where we were going, or how long it’d take to get there, or even what the fuck we were goingfor. But I was sick of asking and getting no answers, so I kept my mouth shut. Only seven weeks until I was eighteen and legally free of Catherine Debitch. No matter what she thought, she couldn’t make me run her company. I just had to bide my time.
Eventually, I gave up on sleep. When I opened my eyes again, I was totally unsurprised to find Beck staring straight at me. He didn’t even have the grace to look away when I caught him, he just continued staring.
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” I grumbled, shifting in my seat and reaching for my water again.
His lips curved up in an evil sort of smile. “I took plenty last night, thanks. Nice tits, by the way.”
The water I’d just sipped shot down the wrong pipe and I choked a bit. “You’d better be fucking joking,” I snarled, glaring daggers at the flawless asshole opposite me.
He just shrugged and grinned. Fucking psychopath.
Looking around the plane, I hunted for a change of subject. “Whose plane?” I asked. “Yours?”
Beck shook his head. “Delta’s.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course. Militant Delta Finances. Care to tell me any more about your world dominating company? What do you do anyway besides deal in illegal arms? Hang out and make threats?”
He just stared at me with that blank gaze, and I knew he wasn’t going to suddenly start spewing out answers so I sucked another deep breath and released it with a long sigh.
“What sorts of speeds do these planes get up to?” Why I was trying to make small talk, I had no idea. The fact that he’d just so casually alluded to having seen me practically naked left me on edge, and it was nerves that made me chatter.
Beck leveled another blank stare at me, and I huffed, folding my arms.
“Why don’t you go annoy Darren with your questions?” he suggested, already turning his attention to his phone. Clearly, I’d been dismissed.
He’d been sarcastic, but chatting with Darren—the pilot I assumed—sounded considerably better than dealing with Beck’s surly attitude. Unclipping my seat belt, I decided I’d go and learn a bit about jets.
Beck raised a brow at me, but I ignored him and made my way through the cabin toward the cockpit. Celia, our lovely flight attendant, was back in Jasper’s lap so no one stopped me when I tapped on the little white door. A sound came in response, which I assumed to be something along the lines of “come in,” so I let myself in.
“Hey, Darren?” I greeted him, latching the door and then admiring the vast array of buttons and levers, not to mention theview. “Wow, this is incredible,” I breathed, in total awe of the fluffy white clouds ahead and the tiny glimpses of land below.
Turning to the pilot, who was yet to speak, I gasped. In his lap, clutched in his shaking, white knuckled hand was a sleek black handgun.
