I just waited stiffly until he finally left the galley to return to his seat.
I was still standing there, taking deep, calming breaths, when Stephan joined me a good thirty minutes later.
He was eyeing me curiously as he shut the curtain. “You ok, Buttercup?” he asked me carefully. I smiled a little at the ridiculous nickname he’d given me back when we were fourteen year old runaways. It always made me smile, which was why he used it.
I nodded. I’d tell him about the whole Mr. Beautiful fiasco, but just not right then. Or even that week.
“What do you think of Mr. Cavendish?” he asked carefully, even innocently. Too innocently.
My eyes narrowed as I looked at him. “Have you been talking to him?”
He did a little non-committal head bob. But he only did that bob when the answer was a yes. “I think he has a crush on you. Did he like ask you out or anything?”
I just glared at him. “What did he say to you?”
“Are you gonna go out with him?” he shot back.
“Of course not. You know I don’t date. What’s gotten into you?”
He shrugged, still looking too innocent. “You’ve gotta start sometime, Buttercup. A young, beautiful woman can’t just ‘not date’ indefinitely. And it’s not gonna get any better than that guy. I have a good feeling about him.” He waved a hand in Mr. Cavendish’s general direction.
I pointed a finger at him. “We’re not doing this again. Everyone in the world does not need to date. I don’t interfere in your life choices. You don’t get to interfere with mine.”
He raised both hands in surrender. “Just a little friendly advice, Bee. But I’ll drop it now. You know I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me.”
I was more than happy to drop it. He gave me a tight hug. “Love you, Bee,” he murmured against my hair. It was just his way of being affectionate. It was how he showed love and sought comfort. It was not my way. Not with anyone but him.
I hugged him back. “Love you too, Steph,” I murmured back.
The rest of the flight passed as slowly as I had expected it to. The red-eyes weren’t my favorite. I liked to stay constantly busy. These flights were all about killing time. Even Mr. Cavendish was dozing when I checked on my cabin. I watched him sleep for a long time. Watching such a restless person at rest was fascinating. He was almost too pretty in his sleep, with no tension in his face. His long, thick, dark lashes making dark shadows on his face even in the near darkness. I could have watched him sleep all night. I admitted that fact to myself, though I didn’t like it. And I wanted to touch him, badly. A stray lock of hair had fallen across one of his cheeks. I wanted to brush it away, and rub it in my fingers. I thought, with no small amount of regret, of all of the parts of him I’d wanted to touch, but that I would never allow myself to. The moment had passed, and I was determined to move on. I shook myself out of my ridiculous reverie as I realized it was time to prep the cabin for landing.
I found myself watching him again as we took our seats to land. He was still dozing, and I couldn’t seem to look away, even when his eyes opened, and he blinked awake, disoriented. His gaze found me quickly, the sleep leaving his eyes as he met my stare and blinked. I schooled my face into neutral lines as he stared back at me. Eventually, I broke the stare, looking at Stephan instead. He was studying me as well, his look strange.
“You like him,” he whispered to me, a fair amount of shock in his voice.
“Don’t,” was all I said in response.
CHAPTER THREE
Mr. Unnerving
The jet bridge at JFK-New York was different than the one in McCarran-Las Vegas, so the passengers departed out of the first door, having to make their way through the first class cabin. This meant that I had to hustle to get the passengers their jackets quickly so that the first class passengers wouldn’t be delayed getting off of the plane.
I nodded politely at Mr. Cavendish as I handed him his suit jacket. “Have a nice day, Mr. Cavendish.”
He gave me a slightly annoyed look. “Please, call me James,” he chided me. He leaned in closer, speaking directly into my ear. “In private, though, you may call me Mr. Cavendish.” With that unnerving exchange, he walked away.
Stephan raised his brows at me as I came back to stand beside him to see off the other passengers. “What did he say to you?” he asked, obviously curious. “The look on his face, and then on yours…”
I just shook my head. “You don’t wanna know.”
I went through the motions of our usual deplaning routine, not feeling at all like myself. Being around that man made me feel…strange. It felt a little like I’d been plucked away from my own orderly life and placed in the middle of some kind of a game. A game with rules that I hadn’t been told. And I had no frame of reference with which to learn those rules. I told myself firmly that I was only relieved that I had told James Cavendish no. He was just too much for me. He was too experienced, too jaded, too rich. And all of that would have been enough to dissuade me even if I was interested in dating, which I certainly was not. I never had been. And he was obviously into some kind of S&M besides. I had my own demons to deal with, and that sort of thing was the last thing I should be interested in. But still… in spite of myself, I did find it fascinating. And frightening. And exciting. I knew that it was probably because of my violent childhood that an excited shiver ran through me at the thought of some of the things he’d said. Like putting me over his knee… I knew from countless visits to a shrink that the things that horrified people in childhood could also excite us as adults. The thought was sobering. I worked really hard not to be a victim of my childhood. That made it all the more important that I stay away from someone like James Cavendish.