“Shower, get dressed and meet me downstairs in thirty minutes.” I start to walk away, bending to pluck up the case from the floor, “I’m serious about the time, I will be adding thirty minutes onto my time.”
I look back to find her sitting on the edge of the bed, naked back to me, “Control freak.” She grumbles.
“Thirty minutes, Olivia.” I remind.
She flips me the middle finger and I leave the room, chuckling.
I flip my wrist and check the time on my watch. Seven Forty-Two.
“That’s an additional hour for me.” I grin.
Twenty-two hours left.
“Forty-two minutes.” She snaps back. Twenty-one hours and forty-two minutes then, if she wants to be pedantic.
My eyes lick down her. She’s in a pair of blue jeans and a sweater with knee-high boots. She’ll be too warm in that when we get there but for now it’s fine, she can change on the plane.
“Dennis is waiting,” I get up from the chair I was waiting in and start walking to the door.
“I haven’t even had coffee!”
“We’ll get coffee on the way.”
She jogs after me, her shoes squeaking on the floor, “Where are we going!?” She demands, “Why do you have a suitcase!?”
“No questions, Olivia.” I guide her out the door and into the cold with a palm against her back. Dennis opens the back door for her, and she slides in, me following behind after he takes the case to place in thetrunk.
“Where are we going?” she asks again, chewing her lip nervously.
“Just trust me, kitten,” I bring my thumb to her lip, popping it out from her teeth.
Her wide eyes search mine before her shoulders lighten and she nods softly. My chest swells that she gives me it, my heart doing this weird little gallop in my chest that has my free hand moving to rub against my sternum like something is wrong.
She tracks the movement, frowning before she averts her eyes and watches out the window.
“Why are we getting on a plane!?” Olivia half gasps, half screeches.
“Because we’re going on a trip.”
“What!? I can’t just leave.”
I stare at her. She opens and closes her mouth a few times but gives up the fight, stomping away across the tarmac to where the private plane waits.
One of the flight staff welcomes her on board and she gives a half-hearted response, her nerves getting the better of her.
I place our bag in the storage and take a seat next to her on one of the plush couches.
“You’re mine right now, Olivia.” I remind her, “To do whatever I want with.”
“I didn’t know that included getting on a plane!”
“We have six hours to kill,” I lean back, “I’ll allow you some rest for a couple of them.”
“Ass,” she snaps, and I grin, knowing that would get at her. “You’re not going to tell me where we are going?”
“Not yet.” I say, “Just trust me.” I say for the second time in the past hour.
And whether she wants to or not, she does.
