Falling For My Enemy Page 3

  But he didn’t go on because we were interrupted when Daniel wrestled the bowl of nuts away from Tom, pecans flying all over the carpet. I grunted, unable to believe my eyes. These guys really were children. Messy children at that. The carpet would have to be vacuumed and deep-cleaned after we landed.

  Rolling my eyes, I gave in. My co-workers were kids, and deserved to be treated like children. As a result, I stood, rising to my full height within the cabin, dark hair almost scraping the roof.

  “Hey everyone. Now that we’re cruising, let’s take a tour of the plane. Wouldn’t you enjoy that? Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  It was ironic that I basically sounded like a kindergarten teacher trying to cajole her unruly students. But the boys jumped up, clapping their hands, their faces bright with excitement.

  “All right!” one crowed.

  “This will be fun!” chirped another.

  I gave them a tight smile before turning around. En masse, we made our way to the front of the plane first. Fortunately, Morgan was nowhere in sight.

  The divider door to the galley kitchen opened with ease, revealing gleaming full-size fixtures. You could cook a gourmet meal here for sure. Plus, there was a small bathroom off to the side, fitted with a porcelain sink and toilet. None of that grimy metal hardware for Elite Air.

  “Here’s the bathroom for passengers,” I rumbled. “Meaning you guys.”

  Gregory nodded, ducking his head into the lavatory. “It’s nice. But I don’t need lavender-scented soap.”

  My eyes rolled. Jeez, this prick was so fucking clueless. Most likely he didn’t need soap because he didn’t wash his hands after using the john. Disgusting. But I ignored his comment.

  “Come on,” I continued. “Let’s see what else this plane has.”

  I shut the bathroom door and stepped into the kitchen proper. The execs marveled over the spacious set-up. The cabinets were stainless steel, and the countertops were a bright artificial granite, sufficiently lightweight yet glamorous. A full silver tea service perched on the counter, unused.

  Incredibly, Gregory managed to locate a bag of fancy pecans from somewhere.

  “You’re hiding the good stuff!” he whined. “I want this, not the mixed nuts we were eating.”

  Seriously, could these guys get any worse? I ignored them, striding to the back of the plane, the ragtag band nipping at my heels.

  And sure enough, once the door to the private bedroom was opened, a hush of awe descended.

  “Wow!” whispered Greg, halfway through cracking a nut. “Wow wow wow!”

  “I wish I were you,” whimpered Tom. “This place is so luxe.”

  Because there was a king-sized bed dominating the back wall. The covers were Egyptian cotton, the duvet monogrammed with “Elite Air” in gold thread. A small nightstand held a built-in vase with fresh, cheery marigolds. Plus, there was a docking station for a laptop and a secondary screen secured to the wall. A small barstool chair with a half-back was secured to the tiny desk with clips for takeoffs.

  Tom peeked around the corner into the bathroom. It was small, but the luxury was evident with the cedar wood paneling and a marble floor. An upright soaking tub doubled as a standing shower. The sink was a glass bowl with a waterfall faucet. The smart toilet, shipped in from Japan, doubled as a bidet.

  “Wow,” whistled Gregory. “Wow wow wow.”

  At this point, his mouth was hanging open, half eaten nuts visible.

  “This is like an air yacht,” Tom whistled before stepping back, eyebrows almost off his forehead with wonder. “Incredible.”

  Daniel flopped onto the bed like the place belonged to him.

  “Yeah, Stone! You gotta hook me up with one of these babies for Ibiza. I need this to impress the ladies!”

  Internally, I was thinking “no way.” But on the outside, my expression remained neutral.

  “Sure, maybe,” was my cool reply. “We’ll see.”

  The guys erupted into hoots and hollers then.

  “Ibiza, here we come! South of France! Saint Tropez! Ladies, we’re hittin’ it big time!”

  Oh shit. Flying in a circle above New York with these losers was already bad enough, but even worse was the thought of actually going somewhere with them, much less a trans-Atlantic trip. No way.

  But I kept mum as the others danced and jigged because there was still that girl. My thoughts wandered to how I could make that little stewardess squeal. It’s wrong, I know. We only just met, and she’d been humiliated by my buddies, groped and pawed by a bunch of hyenas. But I couldn’t shake Morgan from my mind because that curvy figure would look gorgeous swallowed up in the plane’s bed with the cotton sheets tossed haphazardly to the floor.

  What kind of sounds would she make?

  Her uniform didn’t leave much to the imagination, that was for sure. That tiny waist was mind-blowing, flaring into a dramatic hourglass figure. Her breasts had bounced so naturally when Willy was prodding her, proving that there was no silicone in her body. I imagined ripping the buttons off her navy outfit and watching those tits explode from her blouse.

  Oh yeah. She was so beautiful.

  But still, it was the contrast that struck me. Her face was absolutely angelic, the skin almost glowing. And yet that body was made for raunchy play between the sheets.

  Suddenly, the intercom came on again.

  “Passengers, please take your seats,” droned the pilot. “Prepare for landing.”

  I straightened.

  “Come on. Time to strap in. We’re done.”

  It was like herding a bunch of cats, these guys zigging and zagging, reluctant to go back to their seats.

  Daniel pouted, craning his neck to look back at me. “Can’t you just tell them to circle around again? We’re having so much fun!”

  I shook my head and pushed Willy away from the closets. Was he literally digging around, seeing what he could find?

  “No, that’s all you get. You want your own flight to somewhere, then buy a ticket.”

  The guys groaned but obediently shuffled back to their seats. Holding back a sigh, I set my empty champagne flute down on the side table, only to be interrupted once more.

  “Are there any good movies on here?” Tom picked up the remote and tried to turn the television on.

  Gregory bit his lip. “I don’t think we’re supposed to turn stuff on while the plane is landing.”

  Willy snorted. “That’s what they tell you, but it’s a bunch of bullshit. See if the latest Bond movie is on there. I wanted to see that in the theaters, but this flat screen will be just as good,” he smirked.

  What was wrong with these annoying losers? The thought of killing them crossed my mind for the umpteenth time. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the remote from Tom and shut the television off. It sank back into the floor, slow and graceful.

  “Stop. We don’t need a movie. It’ll only be a few minutes until we land.”

  And finally, these guys settled down, keeping their hands to themselves. Slowly, the bird descended from the sky like an angel floating on wings, coming to a gradual halt on the tarmac. We taxied for a bit, before hearing the hiss of the engines as they shut off.

  “That was awesome!” Daniel unclipped his seatbelt and jumped up. “Stone, you are seriously the man!”

  Tom nodded, setting his empty glass on the side table.

  “Take us again,” he wheedled. “Remember, you promised. Ibiza.”

  “Yeah!” Willy squeezed out of his chair. “I want to go too! Don’t leave me behind.”

  With a tight smile on my face, I shepherded these losers out, and not a moment too soon because Gregory scanned the plane as if giving a last look.

  “Maybe we could be best friends, Stone? What do you say?”

  That was laughable. Hopefully, I’d never be trapped in an enclosed space with these fools ever again. But there was one good part to this pointless trip. As we made our way out of the cabin and onto the gleaming metal stairs, like most flight atte
ndants, Morgan stood at attention near the doorway with a brave smile. Needless to say, that smile didn’t reach her eyes as she waved to the men.

  “Goodbye, thank you for flying with Elite Air!” was her dulcet farewell. “Come fly with us again.”

  Gregory literally purred, his eyes suggestive.

  “I hope you’re on our flight to Ibiza, sweetheart. We’ll party hardy then, baby.”

  And Daniel was even more shameless, handing her his business card.

  “Call me,” he directed. “I have money.”

  She took the card with a vague smile.

  “Thank you sir. It’s been a pleasure. I hope you enjoyed your trip.”

  I gave her credit for that. This poor thing had been harassed up, down and all the way around for forty-five minutes straight. Fat, paunchy guys had grabbed her breasts, squeezing them painfully, and yet she was professional still. The brunette knew how to make the best of a bad situation, and I respected her for that.

  This girl deserved a raise.

  A bonus at the very least.

  Something very special … straight from me.

  As a result, I shot her a cool look.

  “Meet me at Elite Air offices tomorrow, five sharp in the evening,” was my harsh command.

  She gasped slightly, eyes wide, but then smiled politely.

  “Of course, Mr. Evans. Have a great day.”

  And that was that. I pulled myself away and stepped out into the fresh air. Well, as fresh as a New York airport can be with the pollution and smog. But still, it felt nice to be outdoors once again, and immediately a small man scampered up.

  “Mr. Evans,” he bowed courteously. “Please, let me show you to the gate.”

  Ah, of course. Concierge service. A golf cart whizzed up, ready to take us to our destination because walking on the tarmac was too plebian for a bunch of rich guys like us. Quickly, we piled in and sped off, the gleaming plane growing small in the distance.

  But still, my mind wandered back to Morgan.

  The curvy brunette was all mine.

  After all, I bought and paid for her, along with this fleet of aircraft.

  Sure, her employment contract didn’t get into personal services, but I had to see her again … no matter the circumstances.

  3

  Morgan

  Oh no. Mr. Evans ordered me to meet him at the office tomorrow. Was I already being fired? On my first flight with Elite Air?

  Oh god.

  No.

  What have I gotten myself into?

  I did my best given the situation yesterday. What else could I do? I was an eighteen year-old girl, outmanned and outflanked on every side. The guys were at least twenty years older than me, licking their chops like hungry wolves circling a vulnerable lamb.

  Plus, everything about this job has been strange from the get go. It all started with the interview that brought me into this mysterious world. Desperate to leave Burger Barista, I’d been scanning the newspaper for job listings. It’s old-fashioned but sometimes, you can find a nugget among the coal. My eyes glanced upon an ad, and I’d circled it excitedly with a red pen:

  Looking for Sensational Flight Attendants to Work For Private Carrier. $100k Annual Salary Plus Benefits.

  One hundred thousand dollars? That was double what the commercial airlines offered. Immediately, I dashed an email off to their listed contact, attaching a photo. It was weird that they required a recent photograph, but it was fine. I used my student ID.

  My inbox pinged not fifteen minutes later.

  We’re interested, the email read. Please arrive at our offices at 10 sharp tomorrow morning for an interview.

  The oxygen left my lungs from surprise. I had some errands to run, but that’s okay because the errands could wait. This interview was far more important. My best friend Evelyn came over that night, helping me prep for the interview by lobbing sample questions my way. Things like:

  How do you trigger the emergency lights? Are there extra tankards of jet fuel on board the Airbus 242? If so, are they accessible to flight crew? What kinds of precautions must be taken when handling jet fuel?

  Despite the preparation, I was nervous for the interview. I stepped into the Midtown Manhattan office building the next day. Sure, I could spew answers like a Jeopardy contestant, but that didn’t mean the job was mine.

  Breathe, came my internal voice. Calm down. Relax. You got this.

  But my interviewer was scary. As in really, really scary. She looked like a school teacher, her graying-brown hair pulled up in a severe bun. Plus, there were lines around her mouth that came from frowning all the time.

  Oh god. She hated me on sight. I could feel it.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Nelson,” the woman said frigidly. “My name is Helena. We communicated via email. I trust you read the handbook I emailed you?”

  I nodded hesitantly.

  “Yes, thank you. I was able to read most of it last night.”

  Of course, that thing had been five hundred pages long. But there was no sense in getting into the details. This was an interview after all, and I had to present myself in a good light.

  The woman nodded frigidly.

  “Great. Then you understand that this is a private airline that requires a certain level of discretion?”

  I nodded again, trying not to fidget.

  “Of course, ma’am. I don’t want to make anyone uncomfortable. I’m sure it’s hard for famous people. They just want to have some peace and quiet.”

  Helena nodded, pleased.

  “Precisely. You will also need to exercise a certain amount of leniency with the clients as well. Typical rules do not apply to this airline.”

  I straightened up in my chair. What did that mean? But I’ve learned in my short life that it’s easier to give people what they want. Especially during an interview.

  “I understand,” was my quick nod. “It must be hard. Famous people play by different rules because they have different restrictions. Of course.”

  Helena lifted an eyebrow and shot me another look up over her glasses.

  “Our clients may or may not be famous,” she said dismissively. “It makes no different to someone such as yourself. All we ask for are discretion and the ability to … ah, be flexible.”

  What did that mean? But the woman gave me no time to ask more. Instead, those piercing eyes flitted down as she scanned through her daily planner.

  “Miss Nelson, off-hand, do you know what your measurements are?”

  Heat rose to my cheeks.

  “Oh, um, excuse me?” My eyes darted around over the desk, as if an answer waited there for me. What kind of job was I signing up for?

  “Your measurements,” she said crisply, looking down her nose. “For the uniforms, obviously.”

  A sigh of relief escaped my lips. Of course. Uniforms. I was so stupid for freaking out.

  “Oh right. I’m a forty, twenty-three, thirty-five.”

  Helena’s head jerked up, disbelief in those cold blue eyes.

  “You have a twenty-three-inch waist?”

  I bit my lip and nodded.

  “Yes, but I usually say twenty-five because it sounds more normal,” was my embarrassed murmur. “You can put twenty-five if you want,” I offered.

  Helena merely shook her head, scribbling something down.

  “No, that’s perfect actually. An hourglass figure is exactly what our clients prefer,” she nodded, scribbling more notes.

  What in the world? Why would my size matter to the clients? Isn’t it against some type of labor law to discriminate based on size? But there was no time to process the thought because Helena snapped her planner shut.

  “Okay, everything looks good. Miss Nelson, I’m happy to extend you a full-time offer from Elite Air. We offer a generous compensation package which includes health and retirement, as well as bonuses for performance.”

  Excitement and shock flew through my spine, making me jerk up straight suddenly. Wait, did I hear righ
t? Just like that? I was hired? Because it hadn’t been much of an interview at all, just a couple questions about my size. Didn’t they want to know about flotation devices, and my ability to juggle three meal trays at once?

  But never look a gift horse in the mouth because I wasn’t about to turn down a six figure salary. Plus, hadn’t she mentioned performance bonuses?

  Immediately, my mind was made up. I’d be the best stewardess Elite Air had. I was going to work my tail off and earn some good money, so long as they let me.

  “Thank you.” I held my hand out to shake. “I look forward to starting.”

  The truth was, I needed this job so bad that it was ridiculous. There were bills to pay at home. Not just mine, but my mom’s medical debt from her car accident three years ago. Maybe this way, we wouldn’t have to file for bankruptcy. Maybe this way, we could save our house.

  But my new employer didn’t have to know any of that. It was too much info. So instead, I smiled professionally.

  “Thank you for selecting me. I look forward to working with Elite Air. By the by, when will my first flight be? I’m ready to start immediately, if you’ll have me.”

  The older woman nodded, staring into her black book again.

  “Please come back tomorrow,” she said briskly. “You’ll be fitted for your uniform and then the next day, it’s straight onto your first flight, New York to Chicago.” The woman slid a few papers at me across the table.

  I gasped.

  “Um, would it be possible to start a week later?” I asked faintly. “I have to give notice at my current workplace. Is that okay?”

  Helena glanced at me over her glasses, and the look was enough to make me shrivel until I felt about two inches tall.

  “Is this going to be a problem?”

  There was only a moment of hesitation.

  “No ma’am,” were my low words. “I’ll be here tomorrow.”

  After all, this job was worth ten times more than my current gig at Burger Barista, where I both flipped burgers and pulled shots of espresso for customers. It’s a genius idea, if you ask me. People come in for their afternoon pick-me-up and end up ordering a giant, greasy burger to take back to their desks. Cha-ching! The owners of Burger Barista had to be making bank.