JARED (Lane Brothers Book 4) (101 page)

              “Chris,” she said, tentatively. “I need you to do something for me.”

              He swirled around angrily. “Do you really expect me to do you favors after what you’ve put me through?”

              “I’m not expecting anything. I’m asking. I’m asking that you wait here until Thomas and I have gone. If the paparazzi get a photo of you then they’ll suspect that we slept together. It would harm Thomas’s credibility.”

              “Why should I give a shit about Thomas’s credibility?” His words were cruel, his tone sharp and bitter.

              “Because Thomas’s credibility is my credibility. And even though you’re angry with me now, you don’t want to hurt me. Not like that.”

              “Don’t I?” Chris snapped back.

              Sasha spoke calmly. “Chris, this is the media we’re talking about. What you do now will have ongoing ramifications. It can’t be undone. It won’t be forgotten. It will be immortalized on the internet. If you don’t want drama, then wait until the paps have gone. Do you understand?”

              Chris chucked her last top onto the heap of clothes on the bed. He let out a deep sigh, a sigh that told her he understood, that he would play his part in their stupid game.

              “You can stay as long as you need to,” she added. “I’ll leave you my key to lock up when you leave.”

              Chris sunk down onto the bed and looked up at her, shaking his head. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Sash. I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for.”

              “I do,” she replied, but her insides were a swirling tornado of confusion, anguish... and lust.

It was all so covert - the dark sunglasses, the scarf over the head, the hand in front of the camera. Sasha must have seen a thousand other celebrities go through it but now she was at the centre of the scandal.

The rain had started pouring as she bundled into the back seat of Thomas’s car. She recognized the driver as the same one who picked them up that night at the restaurant, when the paparazzi had hounded them and she and Thomas had shared a passionate kiss in the back alleyway. That time he’d been helping them escape the paparazzi, and now here he was doing the same thing again, like a personal getaway driver.

              They sped through the drizzly streets of Chicago in the blacked out car. Thomas didn’t seem in the mood to talk, so as they went, Sasha looked out the window at the city she’d tried to make her home. She’d worked so hard to get here, to leave her small town upbringing and her lack of prospects. There were points when it had felt like the whole world was against her - with her mother’s illness and her father’s abandonment - but against the odds she’d come within a hair’s breadth of the life she’d always wanted. And now she was just leaving it all behind. She couldn’t bear to think how disappointed her mother would be.

Thomas’s private jet was waiting for them at the airport. His team - a publicist and two bodyguards - were already congregated by the entrance, huddled under umbrellas. So were the paps.

              As the car pulled up to the entrance, Thomas leaned over to Sasha.

              “Don’t let me down, okay?” he whispered in her ear.

              His breath was hot. It made her gasp.

              A woman knocked on the window. Thomas wound it down. “Pippa,” he said.

              The woman leaned right in and spoke in a whisper.

              “I could kill you right now, Thomas.” She had a posh, English accent. She started straightening his shirt and mussing his hair. “Now, you’re in love remember. Protect her. Hold her. Caress her.” Then her gaze flicked to Sasha. “And you need to laugh at his jokes. Got it?”

              Sasha nodded.

“And for God’s sake act relaxed. You’re not supposed to give half a hoot about this whole drama.”

The woman popped back out of the window.

              Thomas took Sasha’s hand in his.

              The car door was opened from the outside. Hand in hand, Thomas and Sasha stepped out into a heavy downpour, a cacophony of shouting, and bright, blinding lights.

Thomas’s team swarmed around the couple, trying to shield them from the flashing lights. Thomas pulled Sasha inside the entrance to the airport, then all the way through it, ignoring the paparazzi’s prying questions. Though Sasha knew it was all an act, she still reveled in the feel of his skin on hers. She just loved being so close to him, feeling the warmth radiate from him...

              But as soon as they were up the steps and in the airplane, Thomas let go.

              The interior of his private jet was beautiful. Everything was decorated in cream colored leather with dark varnished wood finish. The seats were closer to armchair’s than the economy budget airplane seats she was used. They faced inwards as though set up for a business meeting.

              Everyone buckled up and the plane took to the sky. As soon as the pilot told them they could remove their seat belts, Thomas stood.

              “I need a drink,” he said, going over to the fridge in the corner and pulling out a bottle of wine. “Anyone else?”

              The rest of his team declined. Sasha didn’t say anything, assuming that Thomas wasn’t including her in the invitation. So it came as something of a shock to her when Thomas poured himself a large glass of wine then plunked another in front of her.

“Thanks,” she said, immediately remembering the way he’d licked wine from her lips the first time they’d had sex.

She glanced up and saw that there was a look in Thomas’s eyes, a hungry look just like the one she’d seen back in the Hilton hotel. He was remembering that moment too, replaying the taste of her, the smell of her, the feel of her as he’d thrust himself deep inside of her.

A thrill of excitement ran through Sasha as she realized his desire for her was still there. Maybe there was still a chance she could get what she craved from Thomas Lloyd. Maybe she hadn’t ruined everything between them...

              Thomas’s team busied themselves talking through how best to negotiate the scandal. Sasha sat silently, sipping her wine. Thomas stared out the window of the plane, completely preoccupied with his thoughts. Sasha yearned to speak to him. He seemed so lost. He must have been reeling from Crystal’s betrayal and yet he clearly had no one to confide in. Sasha wanted to be that someone. But right now he saw her as another betrayer. Another person who’d used him. She set her mind to changing that. Not now, not tomorrow, but at some point she was going to convince Thomas Lloyd to give her a second chance.

              Sasha yawned. The events of the last few days had exhausted her. She could never have anticipated when her editor Kelly picked her to interview Thomas Lloyd that it would lead her to this place, thousands of feet in the air in a private jet running off to an island halfway across the globe. She’d hoped the article would be the big break that would change her life. It had certainly changed her life, but not in the way she was expecting.

“Excuse me,” Sasha asked the brunette woman. “How long is the flight?”

              The woman smiled. She was well put together with immaculate makeup and a dark navy suit. “It’s twelve hours.” She had a plummy English accent, one that Sasha knew meant she was wealthy and well educated. “There are bunks out the back if you need to rest.” She consulted her watch. “We’ll be eating in four hours. I can wake you if you want.”

              “Thank you,” Sasha said. “That’s very kind.”

              The brunette woman rested a hand on her arm. “Really I should be thanking you. I’m Philippa Wutherington but everyone calls me Pippa. I’m Thomas’s publicist.”

Pippa seemed very nice and polite, a far cry from the brash journalists like Kelly and Alicia who Sasha had worked with during her brief internship at Atomic magazine. Sasha found herself warming to the woman.

              “There’s nothing to thank me for,” she said. “Believe me, you’re doing me a favor, practically air lifting me out of Chicago.”

              Pippa laughed. “Let’s agree we’re both helping each other out, shall we? You’ve left behind your life to help Thomas. I know he might not seem like the most gracious man in the world but trust me, he really appreciates it.” Pippa lowered her voice. “Actually, you’re the only woman he’s ever told me about.”

              Sasha frowned. “What do you mean?”

              Pippa crossed one of her long, slim legs over the other and leaned closer. She smelt of sandalwood. “I mean he doesn’t usually talk about the women he spends time with. But he talked about you. You made an impression.”

              Sasha nodded. It was nice to hear but ultimately futile. Thomas didn’t seem like he would ever forgive her for her betrayal. He was a temperamental actor, used to getting his own way, not to mention having a dark history of being deceived and used. It must have wounded him deeply to find her with Chris like that.

The emotion of the day began to overwhelm Sasha. “I think I’ll go for that nap after all,” she said to Pippa.

              “Good idea,” Pippa said calmly. “I’ll wake your for supper. I hope you like lobster.”

              ‘
Lobster?’
Sasha thought. Could Thomas’s choice have been any more decadent? It reminded her of the way he’d ordered oysters for her at the restaurant. Clearly, he was a seafood fan.

              Sasha stood. But the large glass of wine and the motion of the plane made her lose her footing. Pippa grasped her arm to steady her. Then suddenly, Thomas was standing on the other side of her.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. Thank you,” Sasha said from one to the other.

Pippa nodded and let go. She sunk back down into her seat with a sideways glance at Thomas and Sasha.

Thomas’s arm was still clinging to Sasha’s arm. Bolts of desire raced through her from the place he touched.

              “Are you okay?” he said.

              She nodded. “I’m fine. The plane just made me slip. I was going to go for a nap.”

              “Take my bed,” he said. “The bunks aren’t very comfortable.”

              Sasha frowned. “Don’t you need it?”

              “Not until after dinner,” he said.

              “Okay…” Sasha replied tentatively.

              Only then did Thomas remove his hand from her arm.

              Sasha walked down the aisle. At the back of the plane were several bunks, three in a column and very narrow. Just past them was a door that led to Thomas’s room. Sasha entered.

The room was as grand as the suite in the Hilton hotel where they’d first made love. The bed was large and low to the ground. It had silk sheets, the sensation of which against her skin would always remind Sasha of Thomas.

              As she pulled back the sheets, she realized that she didn’t have anything to dress in. She hadn’t brought any spare clothes with her at all. No possessions, just her purse. Pippa had assured her that they’d get everything she needed sent to the house on the island, but no one had seemed to consider the airplane journey.

              With no other option, Sasha stripped and discarded her clothes on the floor. The carpet was cream and soft under foot. As she slid under the silky covers, she listened to the whirr of the airplane’s engines, and considered the surreal situation she had somehow found herself in.

At some point, she must have fallen asleep because the next thing Sasha knew, the door was opening and a shard of light burst into the room.

Sasha sat up abruptly, disorientated by her strange surroundings. “Pippa? Is that you?” she said.

Then she realized the silhouette in the doorway was Thomas’s.

              Sasha pulled the covers up to her armpits as Thomas staggered in.

“Is it time for dinner?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Thomas replied. “I just drank too much.” His voice was slurred. He reached the bed and slunk onto it beside her. “Think I need to sleep it off.”

Sasha wriggled further towards the bed board. ”Of course. I’ll leave you to it. Shall I get Pippa to wake you when it’s time to eat?”

Thomas waved his hand dismissively. “No. No. Let me sleep. I’ll eat when we get there.”

              Sasha slid out of the bed, the sheets wrapped tightly around her, and bent to pick up her discarded clothes. But as she did so, the silky sheets slipped to the floor, exposing her bare behind to Thomas. She heard him take a sharp intake of breath.

              “I forgot how fucking hot you were, intern,” he said.

              Sasha’s cheeks flamed red. It seemed like a million years had passed since he’d last called her that. It used to annoy her until she realized he was doing it because he got off on her telling him not to. It turned him on when she was dominant and bolshy. Had he said it then to provoke her?

              She left the sheet on the floor and turned around, completely naked, and stared him down.

              “Don’t call me that,” she said.

              A spark ignited behind Thomas’s eyes. “Why don’t you come here and tell me not to?” He patted the bed.

              Sasha looked at the space beside him. She wanted to slip into it, to touch him again, to feel his body against hers. But he was drunk. Did he really mean it, or did alcohol make him horny in the same way it did with her?

But there was no point rationalizing it. The pull of Thomas was magnetic. She couldn’t  resist, no matter how many reasons she could conjure up telling her not to.

She paced over to him. He stretched a hand out, skimming it against her bare thigh, making the tiny, white blonde hairs stand on end.

Sasha inhaled sharply. Thomas’s fingers began inching up her leg, drawing closer and closer to her throbbing clit. With her eyes squeezed shut in anticipation, Sasha tipped her head back. Her lips parted. Her heartbeat quickened.

But just before his fingertips reached the place she was yearning for him to touch, she felt his hand move abruptly away. She looked down. Thomas Lloyd had passed out cold.

              Sasha’s pent up arousal left her with one disappointed exhalation. She collected her bra and panties. By the time she was fully dressed, Thomas was snoring loudly.