“The Leilah Khan?”
Omar rolled his eyes. “Yes, the Leilah Khan. She’s my annoying little sister, and she’s engaged to Potomac’s general counsel.”
“I love her. I saw her race in Monaco last year.”
“My cousin Chelsea is engaged to Jake,” Olivia said. “And in addition to being a huge fan of your music, she’s an outdoor adventure guide. She has all these survival skills.”
“Let’s hope we won’t need to rely on her survival skills at the Plaza Athénée,” Marielle interjected.
“Fair point,” Olivia allowed.
Poppy flipped her red curls over her shoulder. “Time to say au revoir to everyone who pees standing up.”
“One more kiss,” Omar insisted.
Marielle rose up on her very tiptoes and cupped his face in her hands. He cradled the back of her head with one splayed palm. She soaked in his clean, spicy scent, the coffee and champagne-tinged taste of his lips, and the warm strength of his solid body.
“I’ll see you soon,” he rumbled into her hair.
“You’d better. I was promised a date.”
He released her and followed Jake and Trent out onto the tarmac to the plane.
Marielle stood with Olivia and Poppy at the observation window and watched them board the small Gulfstream.
“There they go,” Poppy said as the plane taxied.
“They’re going,” Olivia agreed as it climbed through the air to reach its cruising altitude.
“And they’re gone,” Marielle said after the plane grew smaller and smaller and finally disappeared from sight.
She turned away from the window. “Let’s go see this suite.”
4
Omar settled back against the butter-soft leather and swiveled his chair around to look at Trent, sprawled in the matching seat across the aisle, and Jake, stretched out on the sofa that ran along the starboard side of the cabin.
“This is nice,” Omar said, rubbing a hand over the burled wood armrest. “Very nice. But I was wondering why you didn’t ask Squirrel to arrange a flight for us.”
He could have called in a favor from Squirrel, and Squirrel would have delivered.
Jake looked up from his laptop and shook his head. “This thing is getting messier and uglier by the minute. I’m not bringing this kind of trouble to Squirrel’s door if I can help it.”
Omar nodded. “Makes sense.”
That was the kind of guy Jake was.
“Whose plane is this anyway?” Trent asked, kicking his boots up on the creamy white leather ottoman.
Jake’s eyes followed his dirty boots but he didn’t tell him to lower his feet. “Ryan got it for us.”
“Yeah, you said. Whose plane is it?”
“Sometimes it’s better not to know.” Jake left it at that.
Omar wasn’t about to push. If Jake wanted them in the dark about their benefactor, there was a good reason.
Judging by the Gulfstream’s cabin, whoever owned it had serious money and serious connections. The interior was all cream leather, polished wood, and brushed metal accents. Omar counted twelve seats, a full galley, and a private sleeping compartment in the back.
