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Apparently the ‘Gulfstream’ was Connor’s private jet, which he had used Friday – the day I met him – to fly from New York to LA. By taking it instead of a commercial flight, Sebastian bumped up his departure by over an hour. The flight was typically forty minutes, though Sebastian said the pilot could push it to thirty.

Before the plane had even taxied off the runway in LA, Johnny was walking out the door of the penthouse.

“Do NOT leave this place,” he ordered Connor angrily. “Do NOT open the fucking door.”

“Relax, they’ve already ruined me. There’s no need for them to shoot me now.”

“Connor – ”

“I promise. Jesus.”

“If you’d just followed my instructions, none of this would be happening,” Johnny scowled, then looked at me like he’d just put his foot in his mouth. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“What are you saying ‘sorry’ to her for? I’m the one who fucked everything up,” Connor snapped.

“Well, don’t go fucking it up even more.”

“Go get Sebastian,” Connor said as he pushed him out of t
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