Katarina

The black sedan stops, not in front of a terminal, but on the tarmac itself. In front of us sits a moderately sized private jet. I’ve ridden in a private plane before. They’re usually small, and occasionally full of drugs.

But this…

This is the type of plane that only true wealth can buy.

I let out a nervous huff of air as I lean forward in the back to better look out the window. “Fuck me.”

The driver glares at me through the rearview mirror. “This is where you get out.”

He hasn’t spoken a word to me since I got in the car. My wary gaze meets his.

My brother hired the service to bring us from the apartment to the church. Sounds normal, I know. But I haven’t controlled my own movements in over a decade. The fact that my brother stole me from my father to hand me to Ryker was one more example of how I am a prisoner.

Which made it easier to get in this car and drive away.

What made it more difficult was Sasha.

She’d come out of her room with a beautiful bridesmaid gown, one that fit her perfectly, looked gorgeous on her, with her hair all twisted back. She’d looked me in the eyes and asked me, worry tugging at her every feature, how I was.

“I’m all right,” I’d told her, my chest so tight, my heart nearly burst. “You take care of yourself, little sister.”

“Me? It’s you I’m worried about.” Sasha is always sincere. It’s almost childlike how honest she is with her feelings, her thoughts.

It cut me to shreds, knowing what I was leaving her to face. Marriage with that complete savage.

My stomach lurches and I close my eyes, trying to calm the churning. I’m doing this for me, but I’m doing it for her too. I’m going to free us both.

“Out,” the driver grits, “I’ve got my own plane to catch.”

I’m sure he does. If he betrayed my brother, a high-ranking Bratva member, he’s planning on disappearing for a while.

I wonder what Ryker paid him for the betrayal. It doesn’t matter. “I need my suitcase.”

I’m smart enough to not get out of the car with my suitcase in the trunk. Sasha, smart cookie that she is, picked up on the oddity of my bringing a suitcase to my wedding. She’d asked me about it as I’d left the apartment. I’d played it off. “I’m never coming back to this apartment again.”

But the bigger reason is that the suitcase now holds my money, money I’ll need to dismantle my father one piece at a time.

It’s a vital part of the plan. Despite the value of its contents, however, I’d had to load it in the trunk. My brother would have been suspicious if I hadn’t. But now, I have to be careful to guard the contents. That money is my path forward.

So, I’m not getting out of the car so that he can drive off with my suitcase in the trunk.

“I’ll pop it for you,” he answers, his frown deepening.

“Can you lift it out? It’s heavy.”

His frown turns into an absolute scowl. But he thrusts open his door, the car still running and stomps toward the back of the car.

I get out too, running my hands down my leggings as I move toward the back of the car.

He shoves the rollie at me, the thing bouncing off my feet. I catch it before it topples, relieved it’s in my hands. “Thanks for nothing,” I snark, because he didn’t need to be a dick about it.

“You’re welcome for driving you,” he growls back even as he turns away, circles the car, and climbs into the driver’s seat. The car peels off, leaving me on the tarmac alone.

I stand there for a moment. Do I just get on the plane? Stand here and wait? What should I do?

A steward appears in the doorway of the jet, his smart uniform perfectly pressed. “Hey.” He waves me forward. “Katarina?”

I roll the suitcase to the bottom of the stairs and then start hefting the thing one step at a time. He meets me halfway down the stairs. “I’ll take that.”

I almost hate to give it to him. But it would be suspicious not to hand it over. Then again, if he’s in league with Ryker, maybe he already knows what’s in my suitcase.

It’s a gamble either way, and so after a half second debate, I lift the suitcase, blowing out a breath, as I hand over the luggage.

He turns, carrying it into the entrance of the plane. “You stash wedding presents in here?”

My brows lift. He doesn’t know about the money, but he does know I’m skipping out on my wedding? How much did Ryker tell him? “Yeah. Something like that.”

It’s more like an anti-wedding present. I’ve never been a soft woman. But I wonder how many women have been paid to skip out on their own wedding…

I push the thought aside. One, it doesn’t matter. But two, it isn’t true. He bought a casino with the money he paid me.

I’m still wearing Ryker’s stupid ring. It would have looked weird to my family if I’d gotten in the car to attend my wedding without it.

Ava, my sister-in-law, mentioned it was a two-carat diamond. Not that I care, other than it might be worth something later if I need to hock it.

I follow the steward into the plane. “Neat ride,” I say, looking around at the luxury finishes.

“It’s a Gulf Stream 500,” he says with a smile. “It’s owned by a billionaire, but he rents to other travelers for a hefty price. Man makes money with everything he touches.”

“Is this your full-time gig?” I ask, giving him my best come hither smile. This is a guy I’d like to make friends with. Who knows when I might need a ride on this jet again.

I’ve got what I hope is a solid plan. My play is to bribe my father’s accountant into giving me the account number of my father’s Swiss bank account. The accountant is a degenerate gambler, and always in debt to some shark or another.

A private jet would make it much easier for me to slip unnoticed into Russia and then, once I have the account number, travel to Switzerland.

Sasha does sweet and innocent like nobody’s business. She’s not faking. It’s natural. But I’ve never been good at soft or sweet.

I’m more of a “claw your eyes out if you fuck with me” kind of girl. I survive. I fight. I only take in that which makes me stronger.

Okay, I know I ripped that line off. But honestly, that’s how I feel. I let the bad shit bounce off, and I only use the hate to make me even more impervious.

So, I can’t do soft and sweet. And because I’ve been locked in a cage, I only have so much experience with sex in general. But I know how to give a smile that makes a promise.

I’ve gotten more than one guard to drop a rule with this kind of smile.

The flight attendant gives me a goofy grin back. He’s passably cute, I’ll give him that, so it’s not the worst hardship to flirt. “Yeah,” he says, with a head tilt and a shrug. “Best job ever.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Maybe you can give me some career advice. I need a job like that.”

He sets my suitcase down next to the leather sofa that doubles as airline seating. “Well, you’re really pretty, so you might be able to get a job like mine.”

My smile slips, but before I can bite my tongue, words pop out. “Did you get this job because you’re really pretty?”

Shit. I’m trying to make friends with this guy. But his assertion that my only asset is my looks sparks that fight in me. Which is stupid, he doesn’t know me, or what I may or may not be good at it, it’s just the first attribute he noticed.

But it’s the only one my father ever valued, so it pisses me off.

He flushes. “No. I mean, maybe. I’ve got that nonthreatening cute thing going on that works all right with all the alphaholes that use private jets.”

Now, that draws a genuine smile from my lips. Alphaholes is the perfect word to describe my former fiancé. “That was a good one.”

“Thanks.” He laughs as he turns, gesturing for me to follow.

I hope I’ve smoothed over my prissiness enough to make my request.

“Do you think I could travel with you some other time? See what the job entails?” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

He looks back at me, his brows drawn together. “Maybe. Depends on the client.”

Shit. I might have played my card too soon. Patience and strategy are not my best virtues.

He turns away, confirming my suspicion. “There’s the bathroom, use it now. The pilot gets on in twenty minutes. The flight leaves in about an hour. After that, we’ll be in flight for seven, so this is your last chance.”

He points to a door opposite the bathroom. “That’s where you’re bunking.”

I open it. A twin bed that folds up into the wall is open, taking up most of the space in the narrow room. This plane isn’t huge, so I’m lucky I’m not going to be crouched in a closet. “No one will look in here?”

“No. The executive flying with us today mostly works when he travels. He’ll lay down on the couch if he needs a rest. I’ve never seen him use this space before.”

I nod as I watch him store my suitcase in a cabinet next to the bed. Seeing my luggage secured, I do as he recommended and use the bathroom. On my way out, he hands me a bottle of water. “Like I said, this was your only bathroom opportunity, so be careful not to drink too much.”

I nod, taking the bottle from his hand. “Thanks. I appreciate it.” I nip at my lip looking at him through my lashes. It would be better if I was shorter, so I was looking up, but… “I’m sorry to be pushy, but do you think I could get your number? In case you ever want to hang out or you have a flight…”

“Sure,” he gives me a goofy grin, “I can put it in your phone.”

I pull the burner from my pocket that I took great pains to steal from my brother, and hand it to the attendant. He types in his number and then his name. Andrew.

Then, I close myself in the tiny closet of a room. My first job is to check my suitcase. When I’ve double checked that all my money is there, along with my passports, I relax back onto the bed. I didn’t sleep much last night, so a nap would be amazing.

I hear the pilot enter and then twenty minutes later, another man comes on board, the doors closing.

Fifteen minutes after that, we take off. I let out a giant rush of air as we leave the tarmac. Because as I peer out the window, the land moving further and further away, I realize, I’m free.

I’ve left Vegas.

Left my shitty father. Left my brother who tried to use me for his own advantage. Left an arranged engagement with an alphahole. My life has been made up of man after man who wants to put me in a cage.

But now, I get to live my own life.

I close my eyes and draw in a deep breath of recycled airplane air. If it weren’t for Sasha, maybe I’d spend some time just bumming around Europe.

Live a little before I get to work. But there’s no time for that.

I need to get moving. Even now, my sister is marrying Ryker Smith, and she doesn’t know that I left to set us both free.

I wish I could have told her. But Sasha sucks at keeping secrets. I roll over on my belly, my fist coming under my chin.

Is she frightened?

Does she think I’ve abandoned her? My gut twists. I’m not always great at showing love, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel it. Especially for her.

She’s my little sister and probably the only person in my entire life who hasn’t tried to screw me over.

An hour passes and then two, the flight quiet enough that I start to drift off to sleep. I have no idea where we are when suddenly, the plane dips, hitting some turbulence. I come fully awake as it bounces again. Gripping the side of the bed, I hold on as the plane vibrates with whatever currents of air it’s in.

We hit another pocket. As the plane drops, sending me airborne for a second, I have to hold in a scream.

From outside my door, I hear the flight attendant. “Sir, we should get a seatbelt on you.”

“I’m fine. It’s just turbulence,” a deep baritone replies, the sound of his voice making me jerk up to a sitting position.

It’s sexy as hell, but it also rings with a familiar British accent and cadence that has the hair standing up on the back of my neck.

Just then, the plane dips again, but this time, I’m not holding on. I fly up in the air and land in the tiny space between the fold out bed and the wall, crashing into the floor with a force that sends all the air whooshing from my lungs.

The door to the room bangs open and a set of Italian leather dress shoes appears in my narrow field of vision. The bed keeps me from seeing more, and my limbs are so tangled, I can’t move.

I hold my breath, hoping the bed also hides me from view.

But I watch as he bends, squatting down. Dress slacks stretch over his powerful thighs, his collared dress shirt straining over his chest.

His square jaw is perfectly shaved and so masculine, it might make a girl weep. But it’s his eyes that really get me.

Their heat and intensity light my insides on fire.

But also, there is something so familiar about them. I could probably place it if my body wasn’t tied into a literal knot.

He looks back at me, his brows arching up. “Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

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