“Okay.” Nessa looked doubtful, and I didn’t blame her. It was pretty easy to figure out exactly what she was thinking – she was wondering why Callum would go through all that trouble to track down my address just to send me flowers, she was wondering why a gorgeous billionaire like Callum Wilder was interested in me at all.
I wasn’t mad at her for thinking those things. How could I be? Everything she was thinking had gone through my head at least a million times over the past two days, only it was worse, because I actually knew the whole story. I hadn’t told Callum my last name or my phone number. He’d figured it all out himself, and I had no idea how.
Not to mention the fact that I’d met him at a BDSM club, that he’d made it perfectly clear that his sexual appetite was whetted by punishing women and God knew what else, and that he’d told me he was only going to be with me for one night.
“Well, when are you leaving?” Nessa asked.
I checked my watch. “He’s sending a car for me at nine.”
“He’s not picking you up himself?”
“No,” I said, making sure my voice sounded firm, and not offering any other explanation. It was fine for Nessa to have her opinions, but I had to draw the line somewhere. There was nothing she could say to me that I hadn’t already thought of myself.
“Well, have fun,” she said, giving me a smile. “Make sure you text me when you get there, though, okay? And like, give me updates?”
“Of course.”
She gave me a hug before skipping out of my room, leaving me to deal with zipping up my overfull suitcase. Why oh why hadn’t I thought to buy a new bathing suit? All I had was my orange and pink striped one piece I’d had since two years ago when I was a camp counselor. We weren’t going to be swimming were we? He’d said one night. And that he didn’t do dates.
My cell phone rang, and when I answered it, a professional and polite sounding woman informed me that my car was waiting downstairs.
I thanked her and swallowed around the lump in my throat.
I paused for a second to think about whether or not I really wanted to do this. It was so out of character for me. I wasn’t a risk taker, or someone who was reckless with my heart. And this felt very reckless, not just with my heart, but with my body, my soul, everything.
I considered it, turning it over and over in my head like A Rubik’s cube, examining it from every angle. But just like a Rubik’s cube, none of it made any sense.
I waited one more beat, and when no answer came, I picked up my suitcase and headed outside to meet the car.
***
I’d never taken a car service before, and I found I quite liked it. The woman driver was sweet and nice, just chatty enough to be friendly without feeling like she was being pushy or intruding.
When she pulled off the FDR and headed for Jersey, I sat up straight.
“Are we… are we flying out of LaGuardia?” I asked. All I’d gotten from Callum was a text message yesterday telling me that a car would be picking me up at nine am on Saturday morning to take me to the airport. There had been no other information given, and I’d just assumed we’d be leaving from JFK.
“No, miss,” the woman said. “Teterboro.”
“Teterboro?” I frowned, turning the unfamiliar name over in my mouth.
“Yes, miss. Mr. Wilder is taking the jet.”
Taking the jet! What the hell? I’d hardly ever even been on a plane before, my flying experience limited to a trip to Disney when I was eight and the flight that had taken me to New York from Michigan. And now I was going to be flying on a jet? Was it Callum’s?
When we got to the airport, we were allowed to pull right onto the runway.
My heart hammered in my chest as the plane came into view, a gleaming silver and white capsule. I couldn’t even begin to imagine how much a private jet cost.
The door to the car opened, and I looked up, expecting to see the friendly face of the driver.
But instead, Callum’s ocean blue eyes stared back at me. “Hello, Adriana,” he said coolly.
“Hi,” I said, my pulse racing.
He held his hand out and I took it as he helped me out of the car.
A rush of wind blew up as I stepped out, blowing my hair across my face, the strands catching in my mouth. Callum reached up and pushed them back, and just the feel of his touch set me on fire.
“Was the ride satisfactory?” he asked as he began leading me toward the steps of the plane, his hand still wrapped around mine.
“Oh, um, yes,” I said. “The ride was great, it was…it was, fine, I mean, it was smooth.” I took a deep breath and tried to collect myself. “My bag, though,” I said. “It’s in the trunk.”