"It was nothing. I have grabbed my share of flight attendants. All willingly, mind you," I say jokingly.
"Clearly." She returns the smile briefly before her expression grows serious again. "Also, I didn't have the chance before to properly thank you for your help at the photo shoot. Most bodyguards wouldn't bother."
"I'm not like most bodyguards."
"No," she agrees quietly. "You're not."
Something shifts in the air between us, a current of awareness that makes the small space feel suddenly smaller. Her eyes hold mine, searching for something I'm not sure I want her to find.
To cover the moment, I stand, moving toward the door. "You should try to get some sleep. I'll be right across the hall if you need anything."
For a suspended moment, we stand facing each other in the dimly lit cabin, the hum of the engines the only sound, the rest of the world falling away beyond the closed door of her suite.
I should leave. I know I should leave. Every second I stay crosses a line that's becoming increasingly blurred between us.
"Goodnight,mi reina," I say instead, my voice rough.
She doesn't step back, doesn't break the tension stretching between us. "Stay," she whispers, the word barely audible. "I couldn't sleep, so I was watching Kill Bill. Do you want to watch it withme?"
A smile spreads across my face. "Are you kidding me? That's one of my favorite movies. I know it by heart. Serious strong-as-shit chicks! Tell me you haven't already passed the O-Ren Ishii part. That's my favorite... If you have, you are so rewinding it to see it again!"
That gets a giggle out of her. "I also know the movie by heart. Let's see who knows it better."
"Oh... is that a dare?" I say while I position myself on the reclining bed, putting the cashmere blanket over my legs and patting the remaining space for Jade to sit beside me. "Prepare to be defeated."
She grins, already reaching for the tablet. "Fine. But I hope you're ready to eat your words, Rivera. I've seen it way more times than you."
"Then prove it." I settle in beside her, stretching the blanket across both of us. Her arm brushes mine, and suddenly the cabin feels ten degrees warmer.
She hits play. The opening chords of Nancy Sinatra's "Bang Bang" fill the space.
We watch the movie, teasing each other and trying to best each other. It's fun, relaxed but also very intimate. I keep losing my focus. I feel her beside me, warm and close, her scent a distraction I can't ignore.
When O-Ren Ishii's famous scene appears, we both sit up straighter, grinning, and, like total nerds, deliver the monologue together, word for word, our voices rising, louder than we should be:
"The price you pay for bringing up either my Chinese or American heritage as a negative is... I collect your fucking head. Just like this fucker here. Now, if any of you sons of bitches got anything else to say, now's the fucking time!"
Shushes echo down the aisle. We collapse into muffled laughter like teenagers at a sleepover.
We turn toward each other, faces still flushed from the outburst, laughter fading into something else.
She's glowing. Eyes glinting with amusement, lips parted, breath soft.
She meets my gaze without blinking. A slow, knowing smile curves her lips.
"Told you."
And just like that, the playful tension between us coils into something taut, magnetic.
I should look away. I don't.
Neither does she.
And in that breath between challenge and surrender, I know exactly what's coming next.
And I'm not going to stop it.
20
