God, that silver-haired man's assessment had been generous.
The woman in the mirror had two raccoon-like smudges of mascara around her eyes. Her chestnut curls piled on her head like tangled weeds, slip dress collar askew, exposing half her cleavage.
I turned on the faucet and splashed ice-cold water on my face. The temperature finally cleared some of the fog in my brain.
I grabbed paper towels, scrubbing away the ruined makeup around my eyes, smoothing my hair, then adjusting my neckline. I looked at that exhausted but still well-defined face in the mirror, at my voluptuous, sexy curves.
"Listen, Vivienne Cole," I spoke quietly to my reflection, tone uncompromising. "Derek's a blind idiot. You're sexy, you're hot, you're talented. You absolutely will not let some cheating bastard—or some cologne-drenched narcissist—ruin your life."
Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out.
This was my first time flying first class. Looking at those spacious leather seats—big enough to lie flat—my mood finally warmed slightly. I found my seat according to the boarding pass number—3D. Window seat. Perfect.
I shoved my beat-up suitcase into the overhead bin and collapsed heavily into the wide, plush seat. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to purge Derek, Chloe, the penis headband, and that dangerous silver-haired man from my mind.
My phone vibrated. A text from Mia.
"Did you board? Tell me you didn't get in a fight at the airport."
I rolled my eyes, typing quickly. "No fights. I just bought a first-class ticket. Also, I met a world-class narcissist. Face that could land a GQ cover, but a mouth more poisonous than Derek's."
Mia replied instantly. "Oh my god, V! First class costs thousands! Are you insane? PS. Hot? How hot are we talking about? Did you get his number?"
My fingers jabbed at the screen. "Twelve hundred bucks, but totally worth it so far. PS. Hot like a cold-blooded assassin. NO number! I swear if I ever see him again, I'm dumping my coffee all over his expensive suit! Complete asshole. A cursed encounter!"
"Okay, splurge a little—you earned it! PS. Don't write him off yet, V. Maybe it's fate."
Fate? I snorted, tossing my phone aside.
If the universe wanted to compensate me, it should've had Derek get hit by a garbage truck today.
I flagged down a passing flight attendant for water—desperately needed to suppress this hangover headache.
The attendant smiled, handing me a glass with two ice cubes. Just as I raised the cup, ready to gaze out at the busy baggage carts on the tarmac and finally relax my tense nerves, that cold, gravelly male voice suddenly spoke beside me like a thunderbolt striking my head.
"I believe your vision fails not only at identifying plastic shapes, but apparently can't distinguish Arabic numerals either. This is my seat."
My hand jerked violently. Ice water nearly spilled all over my dress.
I turned slowly, like a rusted machine, and came face to face with that silver-haired man's triumphant smile.
God, are you kidding me?
Chapter Two
Vivienne
Maybe the world really was full of these goddamn coincidences.
The man stood in the aisle, one hand resting on the overhead bin, his suit crisp, his tie knot still perfectly in place. He looked at me with that lazy, self-assured expression, a smile playing at his lips. The kind of smile that had nothing to do with kindness—only that infuriating smugness.
"My memory hasn't declined to the point where I need strangers reminding me of things." I set the water cup back on the tray table and straightened my spine. "My boarding pass says it clearly—3D, window."
"Does it now?" He raised one eyebrow slightly. "Then your memory's clearly taken a beating from that hangover."
He didn't pull out his boarding pass. He just tilted his chin up slightly, gesturing toward the space above my head.
I clenched my teeth, my eyes involuntarily flicking upward.
