Page 85 of The Rebel Billionaire

But then, when you want out of a relationship, it’s common to look around you and see who else is available.

It is, after all, what Loretta, my ex-wife did. She met Myles before we split, an ex-NFL player who became a sports presenter. It happened six years into our marriage, when I was absent, caught up in learning the ropes and dancing to my mother’s tune. My workaholic tendencies were already showing. One night, I stood her up. Pissed off, she attended a party without me and met him. Not that I blame her. She tried to make our marriage work for another year, but I was a shitty husband who didn’t fully understand her wants and needs, thinking only of myself. When I finally let her down in the worst way possible, she left me for someone who did.

Our flight is called.

Due to the lateness of our booking, we’re flying first class. Not that I’m complaining. I want to get some work done and hopefully catch some sleep before we land. We’ve got a busy couple of days ahead of us.

I take the single pod by the window, allowing the women to take the two central ones as they’re both still talking.

“Champagne?”

I turn to find one of the cabin crew holding a tray.

I accept the glass, hoping to calm the churning in my stomach.

She turns and offers one to Brooke, who’s sat across the aisle from me.

“Thank you,” she says, earning herself a smile.

What is it about this young woman? She seems to have a positive effect on everyone she meets. Maybe it’s her Britishness, but somehow it feels more. She draws people to her. Yet I’ve seen her hold herself apart, keeping those around her at arm’s length, without them realising it.

“I’m going to be working for a bit,” I say, unnecessarily.

“Is there anything you want me to do?” she asks.

I shake my head. “No. I have some emails to go over. Just enjoy the movies and get some rest. It’s going to be a busy couple of days.”

She should know, she set our itinerary.

Takeoff is surprisingly smooth, and I throw myself into work until dinner is served. I send it away, unsure my stomach will accept it, although I can’t ignore Brooke as she and Elise continue to talk animatedly throughout their meal.

After dinner, the lights are dimmed. Brooke disappears, changing into the pyjamas provided. Her flight socks peek out from under the bottoms when she returns.

She reclines her seat and curls up in it before pulling the flight blanket up and over herself and flicking through the movies.

Concentrate!

I refocus my attention on my laptop, realising we’re already two and a half hours into a nine-hour flight and I haven’t even noticed the time passing.

“Can I get you anything, sir?” a voice comes from beside my chair.

“Some water would be great,” I say.

“Right away.”

I look over the aisle to find Brooke watching me.

“You really should relax,” she whispers, scrunching up her nose as if realising she may have overstepped.

I chuckle. “I’m nearly done. Any good movies?” I ask, suddenly finding I’m not interested in work.

She grins and sits up, her hand going to the controller as she pulls up the menu. “What do you like? Sci-fi, thrillers, documentaries… romance?”

I close my laptop, turning to face her, for some reason pleased I have her attention.

“Sci-fi, or a thriller.”

“There are a couple of new ones.”