But Dane is already waving his hand, the first sight of something like a blush appearing on his face since I met him. It makes the air between us warm, instantly.
“No.” It’s a hard line, a clear indication not to go down that path. “What I mean is that the three of us are more like… brothers. But more than that. Soulmates on a platonic level. Meant to be together in a way that goes far beyond friendship or family.”
My heart is pumped with helium, and I swallow through the weird bubble it makes in my throat. What would it be like to have something like that? A group that you belonged to like that.
Of course, I have my family, but that’s never felt cosmic, like what Dane is describing.
And he does it somatter-of-factly, like this is a diagnosis the three of them received, rather than a label he’s applied himself. Coming from his mouth, it loses all romantic sentiment and seems instead like a simple fact of the universe.
“That sounds nice,” I say, quietly, into the charged air between us. It’s not really an intimate conversation, but now it feels that way.
“So, why did you apply for this position?” Dane asks abruptly, clearly ready to change the topic. “I mean, how will it help with your career? I imagine you don’t intend to be an EA forever, and while this is about you making our lives easier, we want to make sure you leave us with better prospects than when you arrived at Ember.”
I just blink at him for a moment. None of my other bosses have ever pretended to be something more than a paycheck. It occurs to me, in a moment of startling, brilliant clarity, that I am sitting across from abillionaireright now, and that he could surely help me get anything I want.
And my first thought, after that, is of the canvases taking over my bedroom, the art I left behind at home, the paint I meticulously picked out from under my fingernails in the Uber on the way over here.
Then, instead of mentioning any of that, I say, “Well, it’s nice working with you all because I’d like to start a business back home, when I go back to Missouri.”
His eyebrows raise, “You’re planning to go back? Soon?”
I shrug, picking at the non-existent lint on my skirt. “Yeah. Coming to New York was always a temporary thing. My family and I are pretty close.” I let out a quick laugh because it sounds like a lie even to my own ears. “They would be devastated if I didn’t come home.”
That, at least, is the truth.
“Hmm,” Dane says, a deep sound that has me looking up at him again. He’s staring directly at me, unabashed, and I know he’s seen right through the lie. Heat climbs up my cheeks, spreads down over my collarbone, and I’m hyper-aware of the fact that he and I are alone together, thousands of miles above the ground.
The moment stretches out, with the two of us just staring at one another, and it leaves me breathless. It has to be leading to something, this eye contact—it’s gone on for long enough that I’ve pressed my thighs together, a growing ache happening that I don’t want to think about.
I start to wonder what’s going to break the moment—whowill break the moment. If Dane might tell me to come to him, or stand and come to me, or if he’ll just go back to work like nothing has happened at all.
But it turns out neither of us break the moment.
Instead, the plane pitches, rocks, and starts to drop right out of the sky.
Chapter 8
Lucy
Ilet out an embarrassing shriek, gripping the armrests, eyes flying to the windows in a panic.
“Hey, folks,” a nonchalant voice comes floating over the speakers, unworried and unhurried. “Sorry to bother you, Mr. Rourke, but it’s looking like there’s a storm hanging around, some turbulence now, but it could get worse. We’re going to have to stop over here in the UK to wait it out.”
Dane, eyes still on me, leans over and depresses the button for the intercom, “Understood, Henry. Thank you.”
He’s leaning back into his seat when the plane pitches again, and I tighten my entire body, gripping onto the seat for dear life. I’m trying desperately to override whatever primitive instinct is making me react like this, but I can’t. We’re like clothes in a dryer, getting tossed and turned. When I close my eyes, I see smoking engines, a spiral toward the ground.
But I can’t panic. I have to keep a level head.
It’s fine… everything is clearly fine. The pilot isn’t panicking, and neither is Dane. So I should be fine, should be able to relax like them.
But this is only my second time on a plane, and my first time ever on a smaller plane like this, so I’ve not figured out yet howto be calm when it feels like we’re about to spiral down to the earth in a blaze.
“Hey.” Blinking hard through the fear, I look up to see Dane leaning in toward me, his large, warm hand landing just above my wrist. My body has no idea what to do with this, oscillating between total fear from the situation and pulses of desire from his touch.
The plane jolts again, and I reach over, gripping onto him.
His wrist is larger than mine, but his skin is surprisingly smooth. Without thinking, I drag my thumb over the softest part near his knuckles, watching as his eyes darken.
