“Does he ownthistoo?” I asked, wide-eyed and gaping-mouthed as we crossed the tarmac towards an actual private jet and the flight attendant waiting by the stairs to usher us on board.
Lucian ignored me, storming off ahead with my bag, but Liv turned to me with a smile. She slowed her pace, leaning in to whisper, “Hot tip. Don’t make a big deal about it to Henry. He’s very sensitive about carbon emissions. He tries to limit his use of it by flying commercial, but he really wanted you to be safe, you know … since commercial airports are not the best place for someone who isn’t exactly here legally.”
“He thinks of everything, doesn’t he?” I murmured, chest suddenly tight. I stupidly hadn’t even considered having to show ID at the airport, but I was probably already on some watch list to be picked up if I tried to travel. But Henry had considered it, and he’d solved the problem.
“I don’t care what Lucian says, I think Henry is a little bit enamoured with you!” she confided as we reached the steps and the flight attendant smiled sunnily at us both, gesturing completely unnecessarily up towards the door.
“Maybe,” I murmured. “Or maybe he really is just a rich guy with a saviour complex.”
“Don’t let Lucian get to you. I’ve never seen Henry so animated as when he’s been planning this wedding. He’s excited about it, and not because he’s helping you out of a legal snafu.”
I shrugged, nerves suddenly overtaking me as I stepped through the door. The cabin was pure luxury. The leather recliners were cream, the carpet was caramel and there were chocolate accents in the woodwork.
“I feel like I’ve just climbed into an ice-cream sundae,” I remarked, peering around for Henry. I noticed his mop of black hair in one of thechairs facing the rear of the plane. His head turned in my direction, and suddenly he was scrambling out of his chair, turning to face me. His gaze roved the length of me, lips parting as he pushed his glasses further up his nose.
“You look …” he mumbled, taking a step closer, pink spreading over his cheeks. “That’s a very pretty dress.”
“Your cousin wants to borrow it,” I blurted, heat blooming on my own face. The way he was looking at me, that wasn’t the way someone looked at their ‘strictly professional, just for show’ wife-to-be.
“He does?” Henry tilted his head in Lucian’s direction. If anything, Lucian looked even more grumpy than he had a moment ago.
“Can we all take our seats, please?” the flight attendant interrupted us brusquely. “We’re about to prepare the cabin for take-off.”
Lucian shoved past us, heading for the front of the plane and taking a seat opposite Liv, who smiled softly at him.
“Would you like to sit with me?” Henry asked.
I’d like to sitonyou, I thought, but I nodded and smiled and followed him back to the bank of chairs he’d been in before we arrived, settling into one of them and adjusting my seatbelt.
“So … where are we going?” I asked coyly.
Henry fiddled with his own belt as the plane began to taxi. “We’ll deplane at Proserpine, and then there’s a short helicopter flight to our final destination.”
“And Proserpine is …”
“A little airport on the Whitsunday Coast.”
My eyebrows lifted, my lips curling. “A tropical destination wedding! You’re a closet romantic, Henry Baxter!”
His blush deepened, and he scrubbed at his face. “I doubt it will be as romantic as all that. I made a deal with our celebrant. He will embellish the truth a little around the date of our wedding, and in return, I’m inspecting a dilapidated resort island that he wants me to buy and revitalise.”
“You’re thinking of buying a wholeisland?” I squeaked. “How richareyou?”
His smile turned tight. “Quite. Which brings me to our next point of business.” He rummaged in his laptop bag on the seat beside him,pulling out a manila folder. He stared at it for a long moment before passing it across to me.
“It’s a Binding Financial Agreement,” he mumbled as I opened the folder. “A prenup, in layman’s terms. I … please don’t think I suspect you would try to fleece me, but given my financial status, I’ve been advised to?—”
“Have you got a pen?” I asked, smiling reassuringly at him. “Just show me where you want me to sign.”
Henry’s eyes widened. “Do you want to read over it first? You might have questions …”
“Henry. You’re already doing more than enough for me by marrying me. I don’t want your money, and if you need me to sign on the dotted line, then hand over the pen.”
He watched me, a cute, perplexed frown on his face for a long moment. As the engines screamed and the plane jerked forwards along the runway, he fumbled in his bag again, pulling out a fancy fountain pen. He leaned over as far as his seatbelt would allow, spreading the folder open on my lap. His fingers grazed my knee, sending heat racing up my thigh.
I signed in the places he pointed out as the plane left the ground. I tried to tell myself that the swooping feeling low in my abdomen was because we’d just become airborne, and not because he was warm, and close, and he smelt so good—like an ocean breeze, and his fingers brushed mine as he turned the pages.
La naiba! I am marrying this gorgeous blushing man today!
