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Elizabeth

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She was perfect for the role. Even when she thought no one was looking at her, she held herself with a poise I only found in women raised with riches around them.

I wondered what her life was like outside of that website.

“Have you ever been to Vienna before?”

Her voice caught me off guard as the plane leveled out in the air.

“I haven’t,” I said.

“It’s a beautiful place. I enjoy walking around it at night. I went to see one of my favorite operas in the Vienna State Opera House.”

She turned her gaze to me, and I watched her eyes twinkle.

“You enjoy opera,” I said.

“Very much so. My favorite is Carmen, but Rigoletto is a very close second. There’s this bakery that sits not too far down from the opera house, actually. They make these wonderful apple strudels that make me salivate even before I turn the corner. And if you make your way to the ‘snack market,’ as they so accurately call it, there’s this chocolate shop that has a small edible city that lines the wall of the shop. You can actually pay a small fee and choose what part of the city you want to devour and then watch them make a replacement in the back. It’s incredible. One of my favorite places to go, by far.”

I sat there, entranced by the look on her face. She talked as if she knew the place well. The sparkle in her lovely eyes pulled me in, but the lilt in her voice and the happiness she seemed to exude kept me hooked. She told me stories of strolling up and down the streets and the street performers that had pulled her into her acts.

I enjoyed listening to her talk.

“What do you do for fun?” she asked.

I drew in a deep breath as a small smile crossed her cheeks.

“I read,” I said.

“Oh, so do I. Though I’m a sucker for my tried-and-true love stories. What do you read?”

“Technical manuals. Business books. Self-help things. I enjoy staying on top of my industry as well as my mental health.”

“Mental health is very important,” she said. “For many, it’s a constant struggle. It’s a facet of many people’s lives that goes unchecked because of the stigma it comes with in this culture.”

A sadness permeated her eyes for a split second, and I wanted to ask her about it. But she changed the subject before I could.

“What about movies? Do you enjoy any recent ones?”

“Not really a movie-goer,” I said. “Don’t own a television.”

“Isn’t technology your industry?”

“It is, but that doesn't mean I enjoy surrounding myself with it when I’m not working.”

“Are you ever not working?” she asked with a grin.

I chuckled and shook my head. She was intuitive. Another facet of her I enjoyed.

This really wasn’t good.

“Would either of you enjoy anything now that our flight has stabilized?” Miss Sebastian asked.

“I would love a mimosa, if it’s possible,” Elizabeth said.

“I’ll take one as well,” I said.

“Anything to eat?” Miss Sebastian asked.

“I’m okay for now, but thank you,” Elizabeth said.

“Two mimosas will be all, thank you,” I said.

I had every intention of ignoring the drink, but I needed to get into the habit of doing things alongside her. If she ordered something, then I needed to order something. That was how being a couple worked, right? I knew she was asking me questions and telling me stories so I had some sort of backstory on her, so I needed to make sure I got into the same groove—to learn the same kinds of things about her in case Cristoff started asking me things about my fiancée.

The flight attendant came back with the mimosas, and Elizabeth reached for hers. And the second she did, her dress rode up her thigh. The soft skin came into view, riding up just beyond the middle of it, and suddenly I was reaching for my drink and taking it down in one gulp. My mouth felt dry. My cock screamed out in anger. She lowered herself back into her seat, but her dress stayed put, taunting me with its softness and direct trail to the place where a woman’s body was always warm.

Before I knew it, I was on my third mimosa and feeling very mellow.

Damn it. This was the problem—the issue with women like Elizabeth. I shoved my empty glass away and pulled out my phone, relegating myself to something else other than conversing with my call girl for the week.



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