After setting the boot aside, Noah finished cleaning up my mess and said, “Rule number four should be us ensuring you can handle rule number three.”
Then he winked and disappeared.
And shortly after that, my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number.The locks on the doors work. Use them ifyou need to. We won’t disturb you until we land. Sweet dreams, little black hat. xx Johan
I responded with another middle-finger emoji.
Then the bastard replied with a black heart and a top hat.
I snorted at it. And I definitely didn’t smile. Not at all. Not even a twitch of my lips.
Because I hate him. I hate Noah. And IloatheLazarus Ferraro.
They might smell like a sensual bookshop stocked with a myriad of books written to fulfill every one of my fantasies, but that doesn’t mean I want them.
No.
Definitely not.
Which is why I took a very cold shower. Somehow there was still steam coming off my skin. Or, well, it seemed that way. Because I was basically simmering by the time I finished.
Then I couldn’t fathom putting on my jeans again because everything felt too sensitive to the touch. Unsure of where my bag ended up on the plane, I started opening drawers to search for something else.
And found a collection of women’s clothes.
That’s when I picked up my phone again and shot off another message to Johan.Do these outfits belong to one of Lazarus’s mistresses? Or is she your whore, too?
Okay, so that was a bit harsh. I don’t typically refer to anyone with language like that. But I wasfuriousto find evidence of whoever was on this jet before me.
However, that fury vanished when Johan replied,Check the sizes, little hacker. And the brands.
Frowning, I set my phone down and found that everything in the drawer wasmysize. Plus, the brands, as he mentioned, were some of my favorites.
You’ve been our obsession for years, Lark. There’s no one else. Just you.
Those words scrolled across the screen as I put on a pair of black stretchy pants and a tank top.
And they’re the last ones I’ve received from Johan.
True to his word, none of the men “bothered” me for the rest of the flight.
At some point, I clearly fell asleep, but the tilting of the plane stirred me on the bed, the landing gears loud all around me. I woke with a start, only to find myself still blissfully alone. The gun tucked beneath a pillow with my phone—right where I left them. And the door stilllocked.
Now that the wheels are on the ground, I’m waiting for the inevitable.
The jet stopped moving about ten minutes ago. So any second now, there’s going to be a knock. Or maybe just the click of a key.
Because I have no doubt those three alphas know how to get in here. That lock is flimsy enough that even I could pick it.
However, nothing happens.
All the windows are closed, so I can’t peek outside.
And everything is silent on the other side of the door.
I sit up slowly, swallowing.
What’s happening?I don’t like the quiet. It’s ominous. It reminds me of my childhood.The calm before the storm.
