Page 26

I smiled despite myself. She always had a way with words.

It’s a work event.

That’s not a no.

I rolled my eyes as I texted back.

I packed something appropriate for a charity gala, not a nightclub. Get your head out of the gutter.

You’re spending the night in NYC and you packed “appropriate”? I’ve failed as your best friend.

Before I could respond, I looked up and found a sleek black car had turned the corner and approached my building slowly. My stomach dropped to my feet but I didn’t want to show it. I slipped my phone into my purse without responding to Cassie’s last message because she could wait.

The car stopped directly in front of me, and the driver stepped out. It was a different man from the one who’d taken me to The Jefferson, but I also wasn’t surprised by that. He opened the rear door for me and my breath caught in my throat because I’d expected to see Cain sitting there, but he wasn’t. I looked up when the driver spoke to me.

“Ms. Prescott,” he said with a nod. “Mr. Ashcroft is already at the airport.”

To say I was in complete shock would be a lie because of course he was already there. It was a blessing in disguise because that gave me more time to adjust to being trapped with him in a small aircraft for at least an hour, not to mention traveling to and from the gala.

“Thank you,” I replied as the driver took my overnight bag and I slid into the back seat of the vehicle. The black leather interior was impeccably clean and still had that new car smell. As we pulled away from my building, I stared out the window and watched my neighborhood slide past. I’d lived in D.C. for most of my life and had been to New York City countless times. But this was definitely a new experience.

“Can I get you anything, Ms. Prescott? Water?” the driver asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror.

“No, thank you,” I replied with a small smile to ease the tension I felt about this whole situation.

The drive to Dulles International Airport was shorter than I expected, or maybe I was just so caught up in my head that it seemed as if time had flown by. When we pulled up to a private terminal, it took everything in me to not fidget. I’d never flown private before and to say I was slightly intimidated is an understatement. I’d never even been in a private terminal, let alone about to board a plane that was not only waiting on me but staffed by an entire crew. The driver grabbed my bag and escorted me through a side entrance where a staff member greeted me by name without introduction. It seemed as if Cain made sure everyone was prepared for my arrival.

“Ms. Prescott, right this way. Mr. Ashcroft is already aboard.”

I followed silently across the tarmac toward a sleek white jet with “Ashcroft Group” in larger-than-life letters on its side. The stairs were already down, waiting for me. I took a deep breath before walking up them, reminding myself that this was still a nothingburger even though the way my heart was pounding in my chest said otherwise.

As I stepped into the cabin, I was greeted by black leather and polished wood, and soft lighting that made me wonder if I’d just walked onto a movie set where setting the mood was everything. And that was before my eyes landed on him.

Cain was already seated and his eyes stayed glued to his laptop as I walked toward him. I felt a strange mix of relief and disappointment that he didn’t immediately look up, but there was no doubt in my mind that he knew that I’d arrived. However, it seemed that he was going to let me be the one who broke the ice.

“Good morning,” I said.

Cain finally glanced at me. His expression was unreadable at first before settling into the cocky, confident man who annoyed the living daylights out of me. “Coffee?”

Before I could answer, he reached to his side and handed me a cup with a lid on it. I hesitated for a second before I took it. When our fingers brushed briefly, the warmth from the cup faded into the background as the heat from his touch surged through me.

I wasn’t surprised to find it just the way I liked it. “Thank you,” I said, sliding into the seat across from him.

He closed his laptop and gave me his full attention. “The flight is just under an hour. We will be landing at Teterboro.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll get some work done and then we can hit the ground running when we land.” I tossed out the idea in hopes that he and I didn’t have to interact much during transit.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to put that plan on hold temporarily. We have matters to discuss before we land.”

“What matters?”

“Tonight’s event. There are certain expectations.”

A flight attendant appeared at that moment, asking if we needed anything else before takeoff. Cain dismissed her with a slight shake of his head, and she retreated to the front of the cabin. Moments later, I felt the engines roar to life.

“What kind of expectations?” I took another sip of my coffee as I waited for him to answer my question.

Cain leaned back in his seat, showcasing how clearly he was at ease with this conversation. “My mother’s charity events attract a very specific crowd. Old money, political connections, potential clients. People will be watching us.”