Unable to compute, I got into the king size bed, pulling the fluffy comforter over my head. There were too many thoughts in my brain, swirling fitfully, making me toss and turn.
And the next day, when I woke up, a groan escaped my lips.
Because there were dark circles under my eyes. Nothing a little concealer wouldn’t fix, but still. Appearance is very much part of my job, and there was no sense in looking pasty and gaunt.
So quickly, I hopped in the shower and spruced up, dabbing some extra blush on my cheeks. I’ve never been a make-up person, but a perky and professional demeanor was important.
And bustling through my routine, I got ready in a flash. Good. It was a new day, and I couldn’t be wasting time thinking pointless thoughts. This was a job.
Stepping onto the G6, I busied myself prepping the plane for my next passenger’s arrival. Don’t think about Mr. Dawson anymore, a stern voice sounded in my head. That’s over and done with.
So taking a deep breath, my eyes glanced at the manifest. Hmm, only one passenger again. My head shook. Man, these guys had to be King Midas if they were able to afford riding alone in such a fancy plane. Such wealth had been unimaginable to me even yesterday, but evidently there were multiple men who had vast fortunes at their fingertips.
But then my eyes squinted because the name Charlie Childs sounded a little familiar. Hmmm. Taking out my phone, I did a quick search and my eyes widened. Seemed that Charlie Childs was a cosmetics mogul. He ran a billion dollar conglomerate selling everything from nail polish remover to high end perfume. Man, this guy was rolling in dough.
And from the pictures on my phone, he was gorgeous too. Tall, dark and handsome with movie-star good looks, always a gorgeous woman or two hanging off his arm. The girls were always svelte and perfectly made up, not a hair out of place. Quite the contrast to my own plump form and unruly curls.
But right. This was a job. Real-life, not the movies.
And as steps sounded, I pulled myself upright with a smile to greet my new passenger. And suddenly Mr. Childs loomed in the entryway, massive and huge. Unlike Mr. Dawson, he actually acknowledged my presence.
“Hello,” came that deep growl, blue eyes taking in everything in half a second. Oh god, how many beautiful women he must encounter in his job every day? Top models, Oscar-winning actresses, all dying to promote his products.
But somehow that gaze was warm and non-judgmental.
“I’ll show myself to my seat,” he said with a grin. “No one on this ride but me.”
I nodded quickly.
“Of course Mr. Childs,” was my stammer. “I’ll be by momentarily with your nuts and champagne.”
And once we leveled out on our way to Chicago, my hands sprang to work. Out came the small dish of nuts and the tall flute of champagne. Was Mr. Childs going to ask that I serve the almonds on my breasts, like Mr. Dawson? Oh god, oh god. My face flushed, breasts heaving a bit. Because I was ready if he asked. This man was so dark and gorgeous, that anything was possible.
And wobbling a little in my high heels, I made my way down the aisle.
“Here you go sir,” was my murmur, leaning over to place the welcome tray on his table. “Welcome aboard, Mr. Childs. I’m Joanie and I’ll be your flight attendant for this trip. I’ve brought you warm nuts, a bit of bubbly, and the day?
??s newspaper.”
The dark man leaned back, surveying my form from the jaunty cap on my head to the polished navy blue stilettos.
“Thank you,” was his reply. “Have you been with us long?” he asked.
“No sir,” came my dulcet voice. “Just since yesterday.”
“Ah, yesterday,” rumbled the man, a twinkle in those blue eyes. “Mr. Dawson sang your praises,” he added. “Damien couldn’t have said better things.”
I flushed.
“You-you know Mr. Dawson?” came my low voice. “I didn’t realize.”
Charlie Childs smiled so that his eyes crinkled at the corners, those white teeth perfect.
“We all know each other,” he said smoothly. “Elite Air was created by a group of us. Guys who wanted to fly private all the time. So we pitched in the for the expense, sharing the costs and benefits. A plane like this goes for fifty g’s,” he said with a wicked smile.
Fifty g’s?
That meant fifty million right? Not fifty thousand?