The loud voice of her boss galvanized the lovely woman into action, and it was only as she shifted that I realized she'd been holding a dripping bag of ice for our entire stare-down. There was a tiny puddle of water between us. I watched as two more drops gathered on the bottom of the bag and then fell to hit the ground.
I grinned. At least I wasn't the only one who'd forgotten that the rest of the world existed.
"Excuse me, Mr. Cavendish," she murmured in a soft voice.
I shifted to the side, then turned to watch her as she made her way to the back of the plane. She was just handing the bag of ice off to another flight attendant when Bram moved in to block my view of her.
He grinned at me, waving his arm for me to take a seat. I could tell just from glancing at him that he was already well into his cups. It was going to be a very long flight.
I felt like I'd just had a lobotomy as I made my way into the nearest seat. I couldn't think straight—couldn't focus at all, not on one solidified thought, let alone whatever Bram was going on about as he followed me.
I sat near the aisle, making Bram nearly stumble over my long legs to get to the window seat.
I nodded at whatever the hell he was saying, trying not to crane my head around to see what that woman was doing. I thought of her soft voice and how she'd called me Mr. Cavendish.
She'd sealed her fate with that alone . . .
She was wringing her hands when she approached our seats. Other than that small tell, though, she seemed to have regained her composure. I didn't like that. I wanted to ruffle that composure again.
"Welcome aboard, Mr. Walker, Mr. Cavendish. What can I get you to drink?"
"Crown Royal on the rocks, sweetheart," Bram told her with a big smile.
"Just a bottle of water," I told her, not liking Bram's greasy smile.
"May I take your jackets?" she asked.
We both shook our heads no. I watched her walk away, admiring the view.
"I see you're enjoying my airline," Bram said with a chuckle.
I gave him an arch, and not entirely friendly, look. "It wasn't your airline I was enjoying."
He shrugged. "Same thing. I have a whole fleet of girls like Bianca."
Bianca, I thought. I had a name. It was a start.
My mouth twisted. "Not possible. You show me one more girl in her league, and I'll give you a million dollars."
His eyes narrowed on me. He suddenly reminded me of a shark scenting blood in the water. "Actually, I was getting to that. I'm glad you brought it up. I need a bit more than a million, son."
I sighed heavily as he went into the expected spiel about his airline. I tried to listen, but in actuality I was focusing on the galley at the front of the cabin, catching glimpses of Bianca as she worked.
I cursed myself for the bad seating choice and studied the cabin to find a better one.
Another flight attendant passed by our seat, heading toward Bianca. It was a brunette, and Bianca towered over the shorter woman. They had a brief, friendly-looking exchange. I only caught small snippets of what they were saying.
"Sure, take one," I heard Bianca saying in breaks from Bram's long dialogue. "I only have the two up here. I'm more than stocked."
"Thanks, Bianca," the other woman said, sounding relieved. "It's always so nice when the first class galley has their shit together. Half of them hoard the carts whether they need them or not."
"No problem. I'll help you take it back," Bianca told the woman, and I caught a glimpse of her smile. It was a small smile, just a slight upturning at the corners of her mouth. It was meant to reassure because the other woman was obviously stressed out.
I tried to put my finger on why I was so affected by that little smile. It's her eyes, I thought. They got to me. They held such a mixture of kindness, tragedy, and reserve. They were soul stealing.
You didn't get eyes like that without hardship. You didn't get eyes like that without anguish. She was a stunningly beautiful woman, but that was just the surface. I was so certain there was depth there and that intrigued me.
She served us, and every time she glanced at me, a lovely blush touched her cheeks.
I was making plans to pursue her before the plane had even taken off.
Her jump seat was just out of my view as she sat down for take-off. I made a note to sit in 2D the next time I took one of her flights. I would have had an unobstructed view of her seat from there.
It was a solid hour into the flight before I was able to approach her in the galley. She was bent down, stacking plates onto a silver, three-tiered cart.
"Do you really need to take a cart out for just the two of us?" I asked from behind her.
She visibly started, turning and standing to stare at me, gifting me with that becoming blush. "Mr. Cavendish," she said, looking stunned.
I smiled. "Bianca. Do you really need that cart for just the two of us?" I asked again.
She gave me a small but gratifying smile. "I tend to try to follow service procedures precisely when I'm serving the CEO of the airline."
I loved the sound of her voice. It was soft but steady. And I adored that little smile. "What's your usual route? Is Las Vegas to New York the normal routine?"
She looked a little surprised by the question, but she answered quickly enough. "Yes, it is, actually. Layovers in New York, and turns to DC."
"Turns?" I asked her, unfamiliar with the term.
She bit her lip. "Sorry," she said. "Airline lingo. A turn is when we fly somewhere, then turn around and fly back the same day."
"What days do you usually go to New York?" I asked her, studying her face steadily.
She opened her mouth, so close to answering, when f**king Bram interrupted, shouting my name, and distracting her.
"Excuse me, Mr. Cavendish, I have to get back to work. Did you need something?"
You. Under me. For f**king days.
I gave her a neutral smile. "I'm fine. I guess I'll leave you to it."
She nodded. "Please ring your call button if you need anything at all."
You. Spread out, restrained, open, helpless before me, purposed absolutely for my use.
She turned away before she could see my nostrils flare, eyes and mind gone wild.
I didn't get another opportunity to approach her. Bram kept me occupied for the rest of the flight. I listened, feeling an obligation to at least hear him out for my father's sake, but I was ready to throttle him as the plane began to descend, and I hadn't been able to approach her again.