“This looks amazing, thank you,” Juliet gushes and I nearly slap the poor woman.
The flight attendant is genuinely grateful for the over-enthusiastic gratitude because it is a pauper’s meal at best. The woman shrugs her shoulders. “We tried.”
“I love it.” Juliet smiles back with her mouth full of broccoli.
Dear baby Jesus and all the Kings, this poor deprived child. I cut my steak and don’t even dare to look at the horror Juliet is trying to muscle down. She forces a smile at my disapproving gaze. She is not weak, but principled.
I should admire her veganism, instead I’m trying to think of ways to corrupt her. At least she can be drunk while wrangling yard waste so I raise my hand to the attendant. I’m not kind and gracious, I’m me. I’m a billionaire who is revered and world renown. I've earned the right to be an asshole, but I’m interested in impressing Juliet so I do my best to be overly sugary.
“May we have two of your best Bordeaux and the dessert menu,” I order as if I’m in a restaurant because this airline doesn’t leave the menus out in first class.
“Yes, Monsieur Dubois,” the attendant says with a bright smile.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve ordered you another glass,” I tell the girl. “Bordeaux is my favorite.”
She looks up at me, surprised. “Um sure, thank you.” She gives me an odd little glance and I want to kiss it right off of her face.
“Of course,” I pass it off as if it's nothing, but it’s not.
I don’t engage with women on flights, or at bars, at hotels, at anything. I find most women to be boring or overzealous, both things that I find particularly offensive. This woman is nothing like one I would order from a menu, but is a sheer delight none the less. When she’s done with her scraps she nestles into the blanket watching an old Christmas movie from the vast selection of onboard entertainment. Since she’s paying attention to the Christmas classic, I pay attention to her. Our wine comes and I hand her a glass.
“Thank you again,” she says gracing me with a brilliant smile.
“My pleasure,” I tell her and peruse the dessert menu.
I don’t like sweets; this is only for her. I look over the items; crème brulé, berry tart, lava cake, chocolate mousse, handcrafted gelato, and fresh chocolate chip cookies. Standard first class fare, nothing stands out. I know she’ll like the gelato because berries are vegan, so I order it.
While sipping her wine and watching the movie she unzips her hoodie and lowers the heavy blanket. She isn’t thinking of me, obviously, or she’d likely be more modest. I can tell by the flush of her skin, she’s getting overheated.
I get another look at her beautiful figure and my pulse kicks in. I force myself to look at the movie I chose, which is some Hollywood action adventure nonsense. Our gelato comes with cookies that have a warm fresh-baked smell of a chilly fall afternoon. While my mother certainly never baked, our chef did whenever the weather turned cool, so the smell of warm cookies do elicit memories for me, just not homey ones. Mostly, thesmell of fresh cookies reminds me that the seasons are changing and I’ll have to bring a jacket with me.
“The cookies are right out of the oven, so be careful they’re hot,” the attendant cautions and I just smile.
I offered the plate with two sliver cups of gelato and four fresh baked cookies to Juliet who is thoroughly engrossed in her movie. Seeing the plate before her, she removes her ear buds and gives me an award-winning smile. “Those smell delicious.”
I thought for a second she might squeal with delight.
“They are,” I took a bite and moved the plate closer to her. “Please take as many as you’d like.” She took one and her smile widened if that were even possible.
“Thank you.” She took the smallest little nibble, trying to pass it off as a bite and I almost flew into a tirade about how women didn’t eat, but I completely forgot the fucking vegan thing.
“Don’t worry,” the attendant chimes in before leaving us alone. “We used coconut oil instead of butter in the recipe.” That bit of news brought a sparkle to Juliet’s smile and she took a bigger bite.
“That’s amazing, thank you. This gelato looks so good and the cookies are to die for.” Fuck. I could eat her, she’s too sweet.
I have a cookie to be polite and I hope she won’t go back to her movie, but instead engage with me, which happens.
“So what are you doing for Christmas?” She starts and it’s like she just dropped an anvil on my head.
Chapter Three
Juliet
Was this really happening? The cookies were the best chocolate chip cookies I’d ever had, and Mr. Hot as Fuck ordered them? For me? And the wine? Is this what people do in first class? I’m sure it isn’t, but I’m swooning. Not only is Marcel mature and gorgeous, he’s a freaking entire gentleman. Like a knight in shining armor bearing Bordeaux, gelato, and vegan chocolate chip cookies. Maybe I’m just a little tipsy because I don’t drink.
“I’m going to be spending Christmas in a hotel,” Marcel says politely with that sexy gravel-toned voice. “I’ll have a nice meal and I’ll ring some friends. I leave very early the next morning.”
“Oh, well if you’re in Rhode Island, you can come hang out with my Grandma and me for Christmas. We always have the most fun together and she loves inviting in strays.”
