CHAPTER FIVE: FLY WITH ME

IRIS

For a full minute, all I could do was stand there, staring at him in shock. Because all of a sudden, he remembered who I was, including the fake name I gave him that night.

He stretched his hand out, giving my box of tampons back to me. In any other situation, I would’ve felt embarrassed, but I was too overwhelmed to feel any form of shyness.

“I tried calling out to you but you were too fast,” he said, his voice exactly as smooth and deep as I remembered. “You dropped this.”

Taking it from him, I swallowed. My nerves were all over the place. “I–um, thought you didn't remember who I was.”

He smiled mischievously at me. “That’s ridiculous.”

“But—”

He cut me off. “I know,” he said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I may have just been kidding, which probably wasn’t the best route to take. You seem distressed. Are you alright?”

I wasn’t going to talk about my problems with this man. “Um, yeah. I’m fine.”

He pushed away from the wall, standing at his full height. Still as intimidating as before.

“Still as closed off as ever, I see,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips.

Chuckling nervously, I replied, “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

He held my gaze, his eyebrows furrowing slightly. Every single movement this man made was attractive!

I needed to get myself under control.

“Try me,” he said simply. Something told me he wasn’t even asking.

I heaved a sigh, deciding to just fuck it and say the damn thing.

“I lost my passport. They won’t let me on my flight until I get a new one, and the embassy won’t get back to me for hours.”

“Ah, I see,” he mused, nodding his head. “And you’re heading back to Seattle, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I replied.

He looked at his watch for a few seconds, brows furrowing as though he was contemplating something, and when he looked at me, he said, “Come with me.”

I blinked. “What?”

The next few words that came out of his mouth had my jaw dropping to the floor. “I have a jet waiting for me, and I’m also heading back to Seattle. Fly with me.”

I stared at him, waiting for him to crack a smile, to laugh, anything that would indicate that he was joking. But his face was as serious as ever.

“You… have a jet?” I asked, still trying to wrap my head around it. I’d known he was rich from the night we met, but I had no idea he was ‘private jet’ rich.

“I do,” he smirked.

“And you’re offering me a ride?” I said hesitantly.

“Yes.” He tilted his head, studying me. “Unless you’d rather sit here and wait for the embassy to get back to you?”

I opened my mouth and closed it. I didn't need a therapist to tell me that I was anxious. The man had a private jet. My daughter’s father. And he was offering to let me ride with him. This was definitely a nightmare that I needed to wake up from.

“The clock is ticking, Mia,” he made sure to emphasize my fake name. “I have to get to a meeting.”

I gave him a wary look. “Are you sure?”

He let out a low chuckle. “I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't.”

His confidence was intimidating. And annoyingly attractive.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I contemplated my options—which I didn't even have much of anyway. This was insane. I was exhausted. I missed my daughter…

Yeah, I was joining him alright.

“Okay,” I said finally. “I’ll come.”

His lips twitched, and he seemed pleased with my answer. “Good.”

And just like that, he rolled my suitcase over to himself, turned around, and gestured for me to follow him.

I was left with my carry-on and another bag, thinking to myself, ‘What the hell was I doing?’

I made a mental note to use the bathroom the moment we got on the plane.

The walk to the private terminal was silent. He led the way, carrying himself like someone who was accustomed to power. He commanded attention without even trying. People—mostly women—did a double-take whenever they passed, and I just kept marveling at the fact that this man just offered me a seat on his private jet like it was the most normal thing in the world.

A few men in dark suits were waiting near the entrance, and one of them immediately approached us, nodding to him in greeting.

“Sir,” the man said, handing him something resembling a document.

John barely glanced through it before signing at the bottom. “Everything set?”

“Yes, sir, but…” the man trailed off, looking at me warily. Valid, because he had no idea who I was.

“She’s coming with me,” he provided.

“Okay, sir. We’re ready for take-off as soon as you board.”

I looked at John, but he was already walking ahead, leading the way toward the tarmac.

I took a deep breath, and as I exhaled, I realized that I was shaking. Out of anxiety? Nervousness? Fear? I had no idea. But this was real. I was about to get on a private jet with a man I barely knew.

I followed behind him, my heart thudding against my chest as I caught the first glimpse of the jet.

It was sleek, black, and massive.

I swallowed hard. Damn. Just when I thought this man couldn't get any more intimidating.

Well, it was too late to back out now.

As we got to the boarding stairs, he turned to me, amusement dancing in his grey eyes as he scanned my face. “You look like you’re about to bolt.”

I blew out a breath. “I’m fine.” The high octave of my voice said otherwise, though, and I cringed when I heard it.

He didn't look convinced. “It’s not too late to change your mind.”

I shook my head slightly. “I’m just a little nervous, that’s all,” I said.

Something unreadable flashed in his eyes as his lips twitched. “You can trust me, Iris. There’s nothing to be nervous about.”

It wasn’t until he was already inside the plane that I realized he had called me by my name. My real name.

How the fuck did he know my name?