I laughed. “That’s more an Ares thing? We don’t let him handle problems that way.”
Tashi opened her mouth and then closed it, not sure if it was a joke. But then the door opened to reveal our company helicopter sitting on the helipad. She stared at it in fascination.
“Your chariot awaits.”
She said nothing as we climbed into the helicopter. I helped her with her restraints, gave her a set of headphones, and then gave our pilot the thumbs-up. The copter’s blades whirled, and then we were airborne.
“Orion,” Tashi said. “What’s going on?”
“You had a rough day. Kurt Wilder ambushed you, and you’re processing threats from your ex-fiancé’s father while trying to prove yourself professionally.” I kept my eyes on the cityscape below, not on Tashi. Safer that way. “I thought you could use a reminder that Vegas isn’t all fires and corrupt regulators.”
“So, this is a field trip?”
“Call it marketing research. You should see what makes this city special.”
She studied me for a long moment, and I could feel her gaze roam my body, cataloging, analyzing as if trying to figure out if our meeting was business or personal or something I hadn’t figured out myself yet.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Henderson Executive Airport.”
I observed her as she processed this information, and I saw understanding dawn on her face. “We’re taking the jet,” I said.
“The jet.”
“I want to show you the Grand Canyon at sunset. It’s available for luxury experiences for high rollers, that sort of thing. You mentioned untapped revenue streams during the tour.”
The lie came smoothly. Too smoothly. We both knew it was a lie.
“Orion—”
“Also,” I interrupted before she could call me on it, “I wanted to get you away from the hotel. Away from Kurt Wilder and Henri’s hostility and whatever’s happening with—” I stopped myself. “Just…somewhere else for a few hours.”
The honesty surprised me as much as it seemed to surprise her.
“Somewhere else,” she repeated softly.
“If that’s something you want.”
She bit her lip, and I had to look away before I did something stupid like lean across the space between us and taste that lip myself.
“Yes,” she said finally. “That’s something I want.”
The Gulfstream G650 waited on the tarmac, sleek and expensive and exactly the kind of thing that impressed people who needed impressing.
“Holy shit,” Tashi breathed when she saw it.
“Language,” I teased, grateful for the excuse to fall back into familiar banter.
“You own a private jet and you’re worried about my language?”
“The hotel owns it. Business asset. Tax write-off. Very boring financial reasons.”
“That you’re using to take me to the Grand Canyon.”
“Research,” I reminded her. “Marketing opportunity assessment. Very professional.”
She laughed, and the sound did something to my chest that felt dangerous.
