Managed (VIP 2)

Of all the rash, impulsive things I’ve done in my life, this one really takes the cake.

I’m so angry with myself that my nails are digging into the meat of my palms. I should have stayed and apologized for not explaining things straightaway, for saying hurtful words in an attempt to protect myself. Gabriel deserves that. He deserves the world. A few asshole comments aside, he is the best man I have ever known. And I want to continue to know him, to care for him.

A passenger headed down the aisle bumps my shoulder with her butt and mutters a quick apology as she angles her way down the narrow passage. First class, this is not.

With my salary, I could have paid for a premium-fare ticket. But I couldn’t fly that way. Not without him by my side. Luxury has lost its luster without Gabriel to share the experience.

“Shit.” I grab my purse and yank it from beneath the seat in front of me.

The man sitting next to me sends a curious glance my way.

“I have to go,” I tell him, as if he needs to know.

Dude gives me a salute as I scramble from my seat.

It isn’t easy, navigating up the aisle while everyone else is boarding. I’m a salmon fighting my way upstream. Frustration prickles at my lids. I need off this plane. I need Gabriel.

A flight attendant sees the struggle and meets me at the first emergency exit. “Is there a problem, miss?”

“No problem.” I haul my purse strap higher up my shoulder. “I just need to get off.”

She slowly looks me over.

Great, I’m probably broadcasting crazy. Not something you ever want to do on an airplane.

“Are you Ms. Sophie Darling?”

“Ah…yes?”

She smiles, going from weary to strangely affectionate. “Bene. I was on my way to find you.”

“You were?” Shit, what did I do?

She links her arm with mine. “Come with me.”

I follow, because what else can I do? People give me looks, and I look right back. Hey there, tell my story if I’m Tasered, okay?

But she doesn’t take me off the plane. She leads me into first class. My steps slow, a protest rising. I don’t know what the hell this is about, but I’m not accepting any charity…

Then I see him. Crisp, gray three-piece suit, ice blue silk tie, coal black hair perfectly combed: the man of my heart. He sits in a cabin made for two, his eyes narrowed and tracking my movements as if he’s waiting for me to turn tail and run.

Relief has me swaying. Joy has me embarrassingly close to tears.

I’m so surprised, I’ve lost the ability to function, and the flight attendant all but pushes me into my seat.

“Gabriel? What are you doing here?”

His brow quirks. “Coming after you, obviously.”

God, his voice, all low and rich and rumbly. And irritable. I’ve missed it so.

“But you hate flying. This flight is twenty hours long!”

He grimaces, going green at the edges. “Yes, I know. You’re more important.”

My heart goes all fluttery, and I want to jump in his lap and kiss the hell out of him. But the flight crew is clearly getting ready to close the doors.

“You can’t suffer for that long. I won’t allow it. We have to get off.” I grab his hand and tug, but he pulls me back down.

“I have things I need to say.” His expression is set, and I know he won’t be swayed.

“Okay…”

As if facing a firing squad, he sets his shoulders and lifts his chin. But the look in his eyes is vulnerable, exposed.

“First and most importantly, I love you. I have never said that to a woman, and I will never say that to any other but you. I’ve lived long enough to know that you are completely it for me. This is a done deal—signed, notarized, what have you.”

Happiness bubbles through my veins like warm champagne. “Gabriel…”

“I’m not finished.”

He looks so adorably committed to having his say that I bite back a smile. “Okay.”

He nods, takes a breath. “I will say the wrong words from time to time. And I will cock things up. That’s a given, unfortunately. But there will never, ever be a time when I do not love you or want you in my life.”

I blink rapidly, stunned to tears.

He scowls as if annoyed at himself and bends down to pull a slim file out of his case. He hands it to me. “This is for you.”

My hands are shaking too hard to open the damn thing. “What is this?”

“My will. I almost didn’t get it done on time,” he muses. “I’ve left everything to you.”

My words come out in a high squeak. “What? Why? What?”

He looks at me, perfectly calm, as if he hasn’t just leveled me. “I want to give you tangible proof that—whether you marry me or not—my life is literally linked with yours until the day I die. Actually, long after I die, too, if you want to be technical.”