Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85414 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
The voice disappears and I’m about to ask Jonathan where we’re going, considering the time we’ll have to spend on the plane. Before I can open my mouth, the flight attendant reappears and nods when she makes sure the seatbelts are in place.
“Can I get you water? A drink?” She focuses on Jonathan and her smile widens as her voice drops. “Anything?”
I narrow my eyes at her as she blatantly flirts with Jonathan. Is she one of his ex-fuck buddies? There could be no other explanation for the way she openly flirts.
The idea of Jonathan touching her in the same way he touches me, kissing her, or even talking to her like he does to me turns my blood hot, then cold.
“We’re good,” I say, glad I don’t snap.
She’s still focused on Jonathan as if my words don’t matter and I want to claw her eyes out.
It’s only when Jonathan dismisses her with a finger that she leaves, but she does so with a deliberate sway of her hips.
“I didn’t know redheads were your type,” I say before I get the chance to measure my words.
“They aren’t.”
“Well, you obviously had a thing with her.”
“Her?” he repeats, slight amusement shining in his eyes.
“The flight attendant.”
“I haven’t.”
“Are you telling me women just flirt with you?”
“They do. Doesn’t mean I pay them any of my attention.”
I peek at him through my lashes. “Not even her?”
“No. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“But you did with me.”
“True, though I never considered you business.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip at his unsaid words. The fact that he considers me pleasure.
The plane starts moving, then ascends. My nails dig into the plush armrest of the chair. Once again, Jonathan takes my hand in his, and my nerves slowly calm.
I get lost in the early evening sky and the city lights as they get farther away the higher we ascend. The view is mesmerising. I can’t believe how much I’ve been missing out in life. I’m twenty-seven going on twenty-eight, yet I feel like a toddler in this world.
“It’s so beautiful,” I murmur.
“Indeed.”
My attention snaps back to Jonathan, and just like the other time in the park, he’s not watching the view, he’s watching me.
“Right,” I joke. “You’ve probably seen this scenery like a thousand times.”
“It feels like a first with you.”
My lips part, but no words come out. God. He sometimes says shit that turns me speechless and so utterly touched. How the hell does he do that?
“Are you comfortable?” he asks.
“Mmm.”
“You might want to rest. Here.” He fiddles with something on the side and both chairs fall back in a comfortable reclined position. Jonathan removes the seatbelts and pulls up the armrest so there’s nothing between us.
I don’t hesitate as my head rests on his chest, half my body covers his like we do when we sleep. His fingers caress my hair, and I lean farther into his touch.
It could be his soothing heartbeat or the peaceful atmosphere or that I’m putting a pause on the chaos back home, but sleep comes almost immediately.
“Where are we going anyway?” I ask in a half-sleepy tone.
“To my island.”
19
Aurora
Jonathan owns an island.
No shit. He owns a fucking island.
I’m dazed during the entire drive from where the plane landed to wherever the hell he’s taking me.
The early morning sun shines through the branches and leaves, almost like a welcoming ceremony.
The roads are narrow and tropical trees decorate the sideways as far as the vision goes. Moses drives with ease, knowing exactly where we’re going.
That makes one of us.
“How did you get this island?” I inch closer to Jonathan. For some reason, his nearness always makes me feel safe in unknown places. Actually, that happens in all places.
He’s leaning back against the car’s leather seat, legs wide apart and his entire demeanour relaxed. My hand is nestled in his on his hard thigh. He hasn’t let me go — not during the flight and not after we got into the car. “I won it ten years ago from a Saudi prince in a poker game.”
“Poker?” I nearly shriek.
“Yes.”
“He must be devastated for losing it.”
“Not really. He has a few more islands scattered around the world.”
“What did you bet?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“If he bet an island, you must’ve put up something of so much value.”
He raises a brow. “And you want to know what I consider most valuable?”
“Sort of. What was it?”
“My son.”
“W-what? You bet Aiden?”
His expression remains the same. “That’s what I said.”
“How…how can you even bet a person?”
“It’s more common than you think.”
“I…I can’t believe you bet your own son — your only offspring. I don’t think I want to talk to you right now, or ever. And I’m totally telling Aiden so he knows what you’ve done. What if you’d lost, huh?” I poke his shoulder. “Huh?”