“How wealthy is this guy?” Vicky asks, the words carrying a curious note.
“Millions,” I say offhandedly. “Possibly a billion or two.”
She nods past me with her head,awayfrom the road. “I think our ride’s here.”
I follow her gaze, and it takes me a moment to spot what’s caught her attention, because I’m looking at the ground.
There’s a helicopter coming in, descending on a path that makes it clear the lodge is its destination. It’s sleek, black, and eerily silent as it approaches. Only as it draws nearer does the sound of the rotors grow froma whisper to a whump, and a moment later it lands at the far end of the lot.
“There we are then,” I say, like I expected it. I start walking, Vicky taking a moment to catch her step beside me, my arm dragging her for the first two paces.
“I can’t believe you’ve dressed me like this,” she mutters.
“You chose your clothes.”
“Fromyouroptions.”
I run my tongue inside my cheek. Her available wardrobe perhaps didn’t take into account the weather, but I’d have brought the same clothes even if I had considered it. She looks good enough to eat.
I probably will, later.
The copilot climbs out of the helicopter, coming to meet us. He’s dressed in a uniform and all smiles. “Mr. Reyes, Miss Callahan, how nice to meet you both.” It’s not a question; he’s recognized us. “I’m Jonathan Davis, your host for this trip, and Mr. Fournier is anticipating your arrival.” He opens the passenger door for us and steps back, inviting us in. The downdraft from the slowing rotor blades stirs our coats, and Vicky shivers again. She’s only too keen to step inside, into a cabin with wooden floors and individual swiveling leather seats. Plenty of space. It’s more like a small lounge than a helicopter.
“Please make yourselves comfortable,” Davis says.
“Do we need headsets?” Vicky asks as I take the seat beside her.
Davis gives her a condescending smile that makes me want to punch him. “Oh no. This isn’t that kind ofhelicopter. The cabin is fully sound-insulated, and the vibration is isolated from the fuselage. That means you can talk normally the entire flight. You’ll find it much more civilized than the sort of aircraft most people are used to.”
“Thank you,” she replies, like he didn’t just mansplain to her.
“Off you go,” I tell him, and close the door in his face.
Vicky gives me a look, then settles back in her chair and fastens her lap belt. I don’t bother with mine, but relax back in my chair and portray a calm exterior, even if within, there’s unrest.
It’s not the unknown of the pending meeting with Fournier. In fact, that barely plays on my mind. Perhaps it should, but I’m certain this is a formality, at worst a reprimand for the inadvertent dual-invite at the ball. I’m resigned to it being a waste of time.
Instead, my thoughts focus on the woman sitting beside me, flicking between the memory of her body beneath me that morning, the taste of her the night before, and how I can provoke more of that enticing battle within her.
That, and the strangely disconcerting tendency I have to lose my cool whenever another man is in her presence, especially when she’s not treated with the respect she deserves. It’s so far removed from what I expect of my own behavior that it’s worth a moment of analysis. Then again, Vicky and I are working through the throes of freshly discovered passion, and maybe it justifies my… fascination.
The helicopter rises gracefully with a slight tug at my stomach.
“I think you’ve changed,” Vicky says from beside me, her voice soft. The patronizing man is correct; it’s quiet enough to hear her.
“We all change,” I reply off-handedly, distracted by my thoughts.
“You’re more…” she pauses, twiddling her engagement ring on her finger. “…controlling.”
I don’t bother to point out that’s complete bullshit. I’ve always been controlling.
She gets there by herself. “No, that’s not it,” she muses. “You’reobsessed.”
That gets my attention. “With what?”
“Me.”
I laugh. “No, I’m not.”
