Or perhaps, turning his back on me is a clear sign he’s not going to engage.
Well… fuck that.
I take off my seat belt and stand, moving up the narrow aisle. Both attendants are in the front galley, working in the small but fully functional kitchen to prepare our evening meal. Paul’s eyes glance at me coming toward him, a subtle indication to Jackson I’m on my way. Is it my imagination, or did he just stiffen slightly at my impending presence?
What in the hell is going on?
Is this him not wanting to answer my questions about the change in security, or is this him putting me off permanently because our time is running out? We have twenty-two hours of flight to Bretaria and then Jackson is staying one last day for debriefing. I had planned to use every minute of that time to be near him, if only to talk, but maybe he has other plans.
Whatever the case may be, he owes me an explanation.
Jackson’s head turns to look up at me when I come to stand beside his chair, my hand going to the top cushion to steady myself as the plane hits a little turbulence.
“I want to know why security protocols were changed back in DC,” I say calmly.
Jackson’s expression is bland. “What does it matter?”
“Answering a question with a question,” I retort sharply. “You’re only making me more suspicious.”
“You’re not normally the suspicious type,” he counters.
Deflection at its finest.
I turn from Jackson, pinning Paul with my gaze. He won’t tell me anything about the security changes, but I’m not going to ask him specifically about that.
“Paul… is there something going on that my father has specifically asked you not to tell me about?”
In my mind, I’m praying he gives something away. I want someone to tell me there’s something going on regarding my safety, because that’s actually preferable to thinking Jackson’s pulling away.
I’m stunned when Jackson rises from his chair abruptly. He glances at Paul and says, “I’ll be back.”
And then to my further shock, he takes me by the elbow and physically escorts me down the aisle.
Not in a very polite way either. I’m speechless he’d handle me this way in front of Paul.
I attempt to glance over my shoulder to see the expression on Paul’s face, to see how much trouble Jackson could potentially be in right now.
Hell, it’s not a stretch to think Paul might come charging up the aisle to get Jackson off me.
I manage to crane my neck just enough past Jackson’s body to see Paul watching both of us with a placid expression. He’s surely not put out by this.
What the hell is going on?
Jackson guides me through the doorway to the entertainment suite—me first, and once he follows, he closes the door forcefully and locks it.
I jerk my elbow away from him, whirl, and demand, “What is going on? Why are you avoiding my questions? And why are you going all dominator on me in front of Paul? Are you crazy?”
“Paul knows about us,” Jackson says flatly, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the chest. All my air is sucked out, and I couldn’t ask how if I tried, but luckily Jackson tells it to me straight. “He guessed. Apparently we aren’t as cool in public as we thought we were. When he guessed, I didn’t deny.”
“Are you going to get in trouble?” I ask fretfully. Because Jackson’s the one who stands to lose… not me.
He shakes his head. “Paul won’t say anything. But that’s not really why we’re back here. You’ve been asking me questions, and yes, I’ve been putting you off until it was the right time. This is the first time we’ve had alone.”
“Because Paul doesn’t know?” I guess.
“Paul knows, but he’s forbidden from telling you.”
I frown. “You mean my father or Dmitri has forbidden Paul from telling me something?”
Jackson nods grimly.
“But you haven’t been forbidden?” I ask in confusion.
“Oh, I’ve been forbidden,” he says with a mirthless smile. “But I’m not going to lie to you. I can’t. So if you ask me a direct question, I’m going to answer it. I wanted to do it in private in case it upsets you.”
My hand goes to my mouth and I nibble on the edge of the nail on my middle finger. Jackson raises a hand, grasps my wrist, and gently pulls it away from my mouth. In the short time we’ve been intimate together, he knows that’s my go-to bad habit when I’m stressed, and he doesn’t let me do it.
It’s those things he does that have made me fall for him.
That have made me dread parting ways day after tomorrow.
I have a million questions, but I only need to ask one. Before I ask it, I slam myself into Jackson, putting my hands to the back of his head and pulling him down for a kiss. He doesn’t hesitate in the slightest, his hands going around me, melding our bodies together as our mouths fuse.