My Grumpy Billionaire

Chapter Thirty-Five

Griffin

Since we’re in first class, we board through a separate jet bridge connected to the front of the plane.

“Oh my God. Our seats have doors,” Sierra whispers as we step into the first-class cabin.

“They’re called suites.”

“I can see why. ’Cause these seats are suh-weet!” She looks around, eyes wide.

Her excitement is cute. What’s even cuter is how she’s trying to act cool, even though her eyes and ear-to-ear smile are giving her away.

“I guess all the romance novels where the heroine gets upgraded to first class and starts flirting with the hottie next to her can’t really happen, huh?”

“Not unless you want to scream-flirt over the engine noise through two doors and an aisle.”

She laughs softly. “That would kind of ruin the effect.”

Her suite is on the other side of the aisle from mine. I slide my laptop bag into the storage space underneath the ottoman, go over to her suite and stand by the giant TV. Normally, I’d be pulling out my tablet to review government stats or some paper published by another economist, but I don’t want to miss her reaction. If she’s happy flying this way, it’s money well spent.

The thought makes me pause. I’ve never spent money and thought about how I felt about it. I use money out of obligation. Mortgage, utilities, clothes, cars and food. Gifts for Mom and Dad for whatever occasions they deem special enough—as a bribe, praying they’ll be placated with a present and leave me alone as long as possible.

Since I want to hide who my parents are and how much I’m worth, I generally avoid ostentatious spending, even though my bank account can easily support whatever luxury I could wish for.

This trip was an impulse. I splurged because I didn’t want Sierra folded uncomfortably all the way across the Pacific, especially since I made plans for her in Tokyo. She won’t be able to enjoy herself if she’s jet-lagged and exhausted. There aren’t any other reasons for my uncharacteristic desire to treat her to a first-class experience.

Besides, it’s her birthday. She deserves some special attention and treatment.

A cabin attendant comes over with a tray of champagnes and various juices. “Would you like something to drink?”

Sierra eyes the champagne flutes. I take two glasses and hand her one.

“To Tokyo,” she says.

“To your birthday.”

Her cheeks turn a gorgeous shade of pink. “Thank you.”

As we sip our drinks, the purser stops by and introduces herself with a warm smile, encouraging us to contact her if we need anything. Another smiling cabin attendant places thick menus into the pockets on the wall by the doors.

Sierra glances at the menus. “I guess we’re eating separately?”

“If you want, we can ask them to set both dinners in one suite.”

“Really?” She perks up. “That’s okay?”

“This is first class, and it’s your birthday. You can have whatever you want.”