Page 28 of His Assistant

She shoots me a look that says I should know she hasn’t, and I smile.

“Come on,” I tell her.

Never one to give me what I want, she doesn’t react much to the interior of the jet. Not the Italian leather seats or the champagne waiting for us. In fact, she raises her eyebrows at that, and I have to raise my hands in surrender.

“Standard on all of our flights,” I tell her. “I swear to God I’m not pulling out the stops just for you.”

She hums to herself and drops into one of the seats, scooting around to get comfortable.

“It’s nice, I guess.” She shrugs. “But I won’t be drinking the champagne. I need to keep a clear head.”

I take the barb for what it is. She’s clearly still angry that we slept together, but it’s not like I planned for it to happen or forced the issue. I was just as taken aback as she was. Maybe this weekend gives us a chance to air out our grievances. Then again, judging by the way she glares at me when I sit down across from her, maybe not.

The flight attendant comes to check on us, then the pilot announces takeoff. She grips the arms of her chair as the plane starts to taxi, her knuckles turning white.

“Not a flyer?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “I’m here for work, and nothing more. Let’s just get the contracts sorted out. We don’t have to talk.”

The plane starts to ascend, and she clutches the chair even harder. I wish we were in a place where I could crack a joke, or even comfort her. Part of me thinks we’ll never get back to that place. So I put in my earbuds and brace for what will probably be a disaster of a weekend.

When she’s not looking, I sneak a peek. After a month of barely seeing her, it feels like my first meal in days. I’ve missed her, I realize. I’ve missed our closeness, the knowledge that she’s always right there when I need her. I’ve missed our banter, flirty just beneath the surface. I’ve missed having her around.

When the plane finally levels out, she looks up with wide eyes and clutches her stomach.

“I don’t think my body is meant to be in the air,” she groans.

“There’s a bathroom just there,” I say, pointing behind her.

She nods, quickly unfastens her seatbelt, and rushes to the bathroom. I watch her go and can’t help wondering if she’s really sick or just wanted to get away from me.

11

SOFIA

The second we deplane in Vegas, I start sweating. My blouse sticks to my back before we even make it to the car, and I instantly regret everything I packed for this trip. I was going for New York chic, not Vegas hot. Now I’m praying to whatever god will listen that my setting spray holds my makeup together.

“Jesus,” I mutter as we slide into the town car waiting for us, mercifully freezing inside. “Is this the tenth circle of hell?”

“Depends on who you ask.” Dominic chuckles, looking down at his phone, thankfully, and not at my sweaty, frizzed-out mess.

“Please tell me all of our meetings are inside,” I beg. “Otherwise, I might melt.”

He smiles again but doesn’t answer, which isn’t a good sign. If I have to suffer this heat after already being queasy on the plane, I just might kill someone. Dominic is the closest, which makes him the most likely target.

“It’s just two days,” he reminds me.

The car pulls away from the private landing strip, and we head out through the desert. It’s already getting dark, so there isn’t much to see. How can it be this goddamn hot when the sun isn’t even up? Then, like a beacon in the distance, the Vegas Strip swims into view, almost overwhelming against the blackness of the desert.

I feel like a child, pressing my nose to the window for a better look as we roll through it all, past casinos and restaurants and luxury hotels. It’s still early here, only 8:30, but with the time change, I’m beat. As fun as it is to be in a city I’ve never seen, all I want is to sink into a cool bed and shut the world out.

“Impressive, no?” Dominic mutters to me, without even looking up.

“How would you know?” I ask. “Your eyes are glued to your phone.”

He smirks. “This isn’t my first time in Vegas, Sofia.”

I just roll my eyes and sit back for the rest of the drive. We finally pull up to the hotel, and the driver opens my door and lets me out. Dominic follows, gracefully adjusting his suit. The moment we’re out of the car, an important-looking man steps forward to greet us.