Misguided Vows (Lethal Vows Book 5)

The car slows down, and I realize we’re at an air strip.

Will gets out first and then opens my door. We didn’t speak much after the betting comment. The ride has been sexually charged ever since. A small part of me reminds me that he’s my friend’s brother and I so shouldn’t be looking at him this way. The plane incident I could knock off as a onetime thing. But whatever we’re heading toward is a train wreck.

And part of me wants in on that.

When I step out of the car, I notice two men in suits waiting for our arrival. A red carpet is laid out to the staircases of two airplanes.

“Mr. Walker, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” The men look at me expectantly.

“This is Alina, she’ll be assisting me today on picking an aircraft.”

Is he for real? Has he really brought me to help him purchase his own fucking plane?

They smile and we shake hands. Will is watching me through the lenses of his dark sunglasses. I might not be able to see his eyes, but I always know when his gaze is on me.

When the first man offers to take us on a tour of the first plane, I fall back a few steps to Will’s side.

“Is this a joke?” I hiss under my breath.

He chuckles. “Why would I bring you here as a joke? I consider my humor in better taste.”

I gawk at him now. I knew he was loaded but come on. A fucking private plane?

“Still think I sit at home playing video games with my dick in my hand?” he asks with an arrogant smile as he waves for me to step onto the staircase of the first aircraft.

Who the fuck is this guy?

And why do I have an unhealthy curiosity about men I should stay away from?

I have never been on a private plane, let alone had a viewing of one. The gentleman points out things that are alluring and shocking. Well, shocking for someone like me, who just came out of economy class for the first time. How is this shit even real?

We move on to the next plane. The first one had a champagne colored interior, while this one has more dark features. Both are beautiful. Both equally mind-blowing.

When we’re done with the tours, Will speaks to the men before joining me again.

“Which one?” he asks.

“You can’t seriously be asking me. I flew business class for the first time coming here, and not because I can afford it but because it was paid for me. I know fuck all about airplanes,” I confess.

And I don’t know if he’s purposefully pushing me—to try and make me uncomfortable—or if he genuinely trusts my taste that much. But this is a significant investment and I don’t want any responsibility for the decision.

“Which one?” he pushes. “I wouldn’t have asked you here if I didn’t think you were capable of giving me an unfiltered and honest opinion. Don’t disappoint me now,” he teases.

I fold my arms over my chest, annoyed. This asshole really knows how to make me bite.

“I liked the darker one,” I admit. “It’s more comforting, and I feel like the darker tones would make it easier if I wanted to sleep.”

I don’t understand why he brought me out here or cares at all for my tastes. I know I have good judgment, which is why I’m paid for it, but this is the most peculiar “favor” I’ve ever been called out on.

“Perfect. Give me a few minutes.”

He strides back over to speak to the men, and I pull out my phone, scrolling through my work emails. I reply to one from the contractor, confirming time and place to begin on Monday.

I then switch over to my personal email, and delete a few spammy messages, but one grabs my attention. When I open it, my heart sinks.

You still owe me, bitch. Did you really think you’d get away with it?

A lump forms in my throat. Even without them signing their name, I know exactly who it’s from. Chills runs down my spine, and I delete the email and block the address.

I thought they’d given up. I haven’t heard from them in months, and I fell into a sense of security. But the harassment hasn’t seemed to cease.

“Everything okay?” Will asks, and I look up, startled. I hadn’t even realized he was standing in front of me. I push my phone back into my pocket with a forced smile.

“Yeah, of course. I was just emailing the contractors,” I reply as we fall into step on the way back to the car. “So, what? You just have money lying around to purchase a plane?”

His arrogant smile appears, and that single dimple forms. “No, I have it tucked away in an account like all trust fund babies. That’s what you expect from me, isn’t it?”

I scoff. “Would make sense as to why you have so much time to stalk me.”

“I’ll have you know, I worked for my money, and now I have more than I know what to do with.”

“Thus the plane?” I say with an eyeroll. He opens the door for me, and I slide inside.

“Thus the plane,” he replies as he closes the door.

When he shuts the door behind me, I let out a shaky breath. Suddenly, my hangover has very much cleared.

I can sense the driver watching me through the rearview mirror, but I don’t care. I hate how much power that email has over me. How unsettled it makes me feel.

Will slides in beside me, and the driver pulls away from the air strip. I don’t like how Will is looking at me now, and maybe it’s because I’m paranoid. I push away the email. My past has no hold over me anymore. I’ve started a new life.

“Where are we going now?” I ask with another tight smile. And I realize my mistake. Perhaps it’s because I’m feigning kindness that he senses something is off.

But much to my relief, he replies with, “Lunch.”

Luckily for him, I’m hungry.