Angling

From his seat nearby, Dex subtly noted every interaction between Caitlyn Maddox and this fake Duke, his usurper. He had to hand it to the self-professed west Texan—the guy was good. Rachel really needed to find out where he was from and who’d trained him.

During the early hours of the ten-hour flight, he’d kept Caitlyn talking—the general chitty-chat getting-to-know someone that sets people—well, women really—at ease. This wannabe Duke had created a credible and reassuring backstory for himself, then extracted Caitlyn’s, even a few things she hadn’t revealed during her onboarding process with The Duke Agency. The guy picked up fast when something made her uncomfortable, and smoothed over his blunders with a cool confidence that was truly enviable. Seemingly without effort, he charmed the socks right off of her.

Once their shitty airline meal had been served, he’d started with the wine—a surprisingly good offering of Italian blends, generously served in unending quantities. Soon, he had her laughing hysterically in that buttery-smooth breathy voice of hers at his personal anecdotes and stories, told to her in a low voice, close to her ear. They clearly enjoyed poking gentle fun at each other and seemed to have a similar sense of humor.

They’d shared a running commentary on the movie selections as they’d gone through the menus together, then finally selected a comedy to watch. They even laughed at the same parts. As a Duke, he’d have been a perfect match for her.

But to Dex’s knowledge, he wasn’t a Duke. At least not one employed by The Duke Agency.

And the fact that he was monopolizing Caitlyn so thoroughly set Dex’s hair standing on end for a reason he couldn’t explain.

Twice she’d been approached by women on board—acquaintances she apparently knew from work—and the big Texan had politely steered them away. And with him taking the aisle seat of their two-person row holding her captive against the window, he’d effectively eliminated any other competition for her attentions besides the occasional flight attendant serving snacks or beverages, or picking up cabin trash.

Growing desperate, Dex had begun plotting ways he could get a message to her without his overly-attentive replacement noticing. At first, he’d thought maybe the women she’d worked with might be able to get in under his radar, but as the long flight wore on, that appeared less and less likely. And not through any effort on his part—Caitlyn herself didn’t appear to like them much.

He’d debated mentioning something to one of the flight attendants. But there was no way to do so without revealing the circumstances under which they were supposed to have met. Or creating an international incident that would down the plane, which he was certain they all wanted to avoid.

Now, less than an hour before the flight touched down, he finally had his chance. Caitlyn had excused herself to go to the restroom, and mercifully, had chosen the one at the back of the plane not far from Dex’s seat.  

Cautious still, he watched as the burly interloper stood in the aisle to let her exit their row and prayed the guy didn’t intend to wait for her to come back before resuming his seat. But he only stretched, yawning, and let his eyes skim the interior of the plane. Once she reached the bathroom, he took his seat again.

“Excuse me. Mind letting me out for a minute, please?” Dex asked the elderly woman occupying the aisle seat. “I need the gents room.”

“Oh! Of course.”

It took an infernally long time for her to fumble around with her belongings, including—God help him—carefully folding her airline blanket and stacking it in a neat pile with her pillow on her seat. Thank God he didn’t actually have to use the toilet. Finally, she ambled out of his way.

At last! Dex was free. He practically bolted out of his chair and jogged down the aisle towards the bathroom and the woman he was supposed to escort through four cities in Italy. He had no idea how to approach this issue, and forced to this pinch, decided the direct way was best.

Reaching the back of the plane, he sidled up close behind her and ducked his head to her ear. “Ex—.”

At exactly that second, the door to the bathroom opened, and as the present occupant vacated it, Caitlyn slipped in behind him so quickly that Dex didn’t even have time to pull her aside.

“Dammit,” he cursed under his breath, scrambling for another option. Frantic, he turned to the two flight attendants occupying jump seats in the rear kitchen of the plane. “By chance, do either of you have a pen and something I could write on?”

Looking up, both gawked open-mouthed at him—not that that didn’t happen often. Maintaining his looks and physique were part and parcel of his job as a Duke. Usually he found it flattering, but he didn’t have time for it today. He lifted his brows, urging. “Please?”

Immediately, the younger of the two, a mid-twenty-something with bottle-blonde hair leapt to her feet. “Of course.”

She’d only just placed an airline napkin on the narrow, stainless-steel kitchen counter when the bathroom door opened. Whirling, Dex blocked Caitlyn’s exit with his body as she pushed the flimsy folding door aside.

A startled cry escaped her and she stumbled backwards as much as the tiny space would allow. Gasping and clutching her arms over her chest protectively, she stared up at him like a frightened hare.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry,” Dex fumbled, meeting her eyes and taking a step closer to deliver his message. “I need—.”

“Caitlyn? Darlin’? Everything alright?”

For the love of God! Dex’s head swiveled and in the tiny bathroom where he’d trapped her, the panicked Caitlyn shifted so that she could see the man who’d addressed her. He bit back the icy curse that was perched on his tongue.

Because the big Texan met Dex’s impatient glare with one of those lazy, dangerous smiles that constantly festoon men unused to explaining themselves and a stare that pinned him solidly in place. He extended a big, square hand towards the cowering woman, clearly marking his territory.

“If you don’t mind, it looks like she’s done. You’re next.” The warning was obvious, not merely in the words that he spoke, but in the set of his body.

Shifting out of the way, Dex watched as the imposter Duke pulled her out of the bathroom by the hand, then stepped to the side to allow her to pass. Once she’d started on her way back to her seat, he turned, physically blocking the view of her and preventing Dex from following.

Absent any other option, he ducked into the tiny room. “Yeah. Sorry, man. She startled me.”

The man’s grin spread wider, flashing a row of perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth, doubtless the pride of an expensive orthodontist somewhere and the envy of predators everywhere. But his piercing gaze never left Dex’s face.

He gestured politely to the door. “You going? There’s folks waiting.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry.” Closing the door between them, Dex locked it. He faced himself in the mirror, his fists balled on his hips to keep him from hitting something. “Shit,” he hissed.

Maybe he should have asked the flight attendant to slip her a message. It was obvious that Caitlyn wasn’t checking her phone—maybe she hadn’t even brought it.

It was also obvious that the Duke impersonator was possessively determined to keep her under his control. This was definitely above his pay grade. Rachel owed him for this. Big time.

He ran a frustrated hand over his face, bracing himself as the plane shuddered with a new round of turbulence and the fasten seat belt sign illuminated. Assuming that a phone contact wasn’t an option, his next possible opportunity to get a message to Caitlyn would be at the hotel.

He absolutely couldn’t fail there. Because the only thing left to do after that was contact the authorities. Even though he didn’t like the guy, there was no saying he meant her any more harm than any shyster looking for a short-term, sixteen-day bedwarmer or a wealthy meal ticket.

Regardless, for The Duke Agency, that would be some seriously bad press.