Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
The driver opens my door, and I walk around the car to grab Ely out of her side. The lone flight attendant helps with the bags and completely ignores both Ely and me until we are sitting and buckled in.
These are the kinds of advantages to being wealthy. I’ll accept—the ability to get away with murder, figuratively speaking.
Literally speaking, too.
The flight attendant brings me a whiskey and takes her own seat near the cockpit door. I eye her down the aisle. Long brown hair bound up in a braid at her crown and a carefully pressed uniform I want to shred just for the sake of it.
What would Ely do if she woke to me fucking the pretty flight attendant with my knife to the woman’s throat? Would she be scared? I give the idea some thought. It would benefit me to scare her, scare her enough that she runs away for good and leaves me the hell alone. But then it would make my job ten times harder because I’d have to chase her around, stalk her, and ensure she doesn’t tell anyone anything.
I sip the whiskey and stare out the window while we taxi down the tarmac. Money ensures we get out of here fast, and I amend my time calculations as we take off. Still on schedule at least, even with Ely trying her best to fuck everything up.
I drag my attention back to her across the small polished table between our chairs. She's slumped in the seat, the belt cutting hard across her thin hip bones. She's still in the house uniform, but that's fine. No one important will see her until I’m ready for them to.
Once the pilot turns off the discreet seat belt sign by the entry door I lean my chair back as far as it will go and settle in for the eight-hour flight. A little fuck with the flight attendant might help my mood, but I don’t want to have to hire a new one before the trip home, so I leave it for now and just stare out the window until I drift off to sleep.
When I wake, the sky is dark outside the iced-over window. The lights are dim. My gaze catches on Ely, who is still slumped and sleeping in the opposite seat. Something eases in my chest like she might have managed to escape at thirty thousand feet, but she's still out, as I expected when I calculated how much of the medication to give her.
The flight attendant saunters down the aisle toward me with an exaggerated swish in her hips.
“Mr. Arturo.” Her voice is low and soft as she crouches next to my chair, her skirt riding high up on her thighs. “We'll be landing shortly. Your agent has confirmed the customs details are already handled.” I watch as she trails her manicured hand up my thigh. “Is there anything else I can do for you before we arrive?”
I shake my head, still a bit groggy. “No, thank you.”
She has no idea what kind of monster she's inviting to her bed right now. If I had more time, I'd show her, just to teach her the lesson. Fortunately for her, I don’t.
“Just make sure everything is quickly deplaned once we arrive. We are in a bit of a hurry.”
She nods once and gives me a last, lingering look. “As you wish, sir.”
It only takes about a half hour to deplane and carry Ely to the already waiting sedan. The traffic from the airport eats the time, though, and we arrive according to the original calculations I made.
It's fine because we are still on schedule. I throw Ely over my shoulder again and carry her through the posh London hotel lobby. This is a frequently used hotel for Pound of Flesh members, so no one bats an eye at my fireman carry as we move onto the elevator. I punch the button for the floor and stare straight ahead. The ride up is smooth, and when I step off the elevator, our room is right around the corner.
The door key card is in my luggage, courtesy of the travel agent. I grab it from the front pocket and get us into the room, our bags following us. Once situated, I wave the bellman off and shut the door, leaving him with a hefty tip in his hand.
The room is perfect, with sleek modern lines and glass from one end of the bedroom into the en suite bathroom. Even the small sitting room is glassed-in on one side, the better for seeing the London skyline in the distance. It’s dark now, but lights dance along the buildings, shining off the River Thames.
I breathe a sigh of relief now that we are here. So much is riding on this event—getting to Mondrake and convincing him to take over the Arturo holdings, all while hopefully leaving Bel out of it, of course, so I can cut ties and finally escape.