Gloria's Revenge (Gloria Book 2)

by Nelle L'Amour

  I was about to find out. Wearing black leggings, a sweater, and ballet flats, I darted to the edge of the insanely busy Saint-Germain, and started to hail a cab. I jumped up and down, flailing my arms, trying to get one to stop. “Taxi!” I repeatedly shouted on the top of my lungs. I must have looked like some kind of whacked-out ballerina dancing to a symphony of honking horns. One cab after another whooshed by without stopping. I continued with my desperate dance, growing more and more frustrated by the minute. When cab number-I-don’t-know-what zoomed by me, I turned my head and stole a glance at Jaime. He was smirking. The asshole! He was enjoying every minute of my pathetic song-and-dance show. I wrinkled my nose at him. To my utter chagrin, he mock-mimicked me.

  Fuck him. It was time to get aggressive. Convinced the cab drivers weren’t seeing me, I stepped deeper into the crazy-with-traffic Paris boulevard.

  “Atten-cion!” screamed a voice. I processed the word in my brain—“Watch Out!”— but it was too late. I cranked my head to the left. A stubby Frenchman on a motorbike was speeding my way. In fact, he was only a few feet away. I froze.

  As the cursing biker zoomed toward me, I said good-bye to this world. My life was flashing by me. Suddenly, I felt someone yank me out of harm’s way and scoop me up into strong arms. It all happened so fast. Dazed, I gazed up at my savior. Familiar blue eyes met mine. Jaime Zander had saved my life.

  “You’re coming with me,” he ordered as his black Peugeot pulled up to the front of the hotel.

  I sunk my head into his taut chest. Update: I was back to being out of control.

  I sat as far away as possible from him in the back seat of the chauffeured sedan as we cruised down the A2 en route to Le Bourget Airport. I busied myself with my iPhone, catching up on texts and e-mails. He sat smugly reading the International Herald Tribune. Despite the silence between us, I could still hear little electrical sparks buzzing in the air. The effect this sex god had on me was infuriating and couldn’t be denied.

  “Aren’t you even going to thank me for saving your life?” he asked without as much as lifting his head up from the newspaper.

  “Thanks.” I scrunched up my face and hissed the word at him.

  “You’re welcome, Ms. Long.”

  The snarky way he said my name made my skin bristle. Mr. Polite just knew how to get to me. Working with him was going to be a nightmare. I just knew it.

  I gazed down at the double diamond ring on my finger. Even more breathtaking in the daytime, the two entwined hearts glistened. The ring was an antique…it had a history. My mind wandered off. Who had worn this ring before me? Definitely a beautiful woman. A flapper? A muse? A princess? And who had given it to her? In my mind’s eye, I imagined a dashing French aristocrat getting down on one knee proposing to his stunning true love. While Jaime’s eyes remained glued to his Tribune, I googled “toi et moi ring.” I was shocked to read that Napoleon had given one to his fiancée Josephine and that the ring had recently sold at auction for almost one million dollars. Originating in the nineteenth century, the two-stone ring symbolized the eternal union of two souls. Had Jaime known this when he bought the ring? Knowing the issue he had with his father’s tragic failed marriage, matrimony couldn’t possibly be in his future. There was no doubt in my mind that he feared abandonment—and therefore, commitment. I stole another glance at him. God, that stubbled, blue-eyed face was beautiful. I yearned to turn it my way and sink my lips into his. Stop it. Gloria! I silently chided. This man is lethal. It’s all one big game to him. With a sinking heart, I went back to my e-mails.

  Thick silence between us prevailed until we reached Le Bourget. The limo brought us to a special terminal designated for private planes. Wouldn’t you know, his private company plane, with the bold orange letters “ZAP!” scrawled across it, was parked next to the hot pink and white Gloria’s Secret corporate jet. The sooner I was aboard, the better.

  A young ginger-haired steward who I recognized rushed up to me. “I’m afraid, Ms. Long, I have some bad news.”

  Now what?

  “The maintenance team is reporting engine trouble. They may have to replace a part.”

  “Engine trouble” were two words I never wanted to hear. My stomach knotted. “How long will that take?” I asked anxiously.

  “I’ve been told it may take up to twenty-four hours.”

  Fuck. I was stuck in Paris. Though I suppose I could arrange to take a commercial airliner back to Los Angeles. It was just such a long trip—almost twelve hours—and with my fear of flying, it felt more like an eternity. I had no choice. I needed to be back in my office. Infuriated, I whipped out my iPhone and texted our travel department, asking them to find an immediate flight—a non-stop one. The word “layover” was not in my vocabulary. I impatiently waited for a reply and then realized that it was some ungodly hour in the morning in Los Angeles, and my office was still closed. Shit. I was going to have to search for a flight myself. Before I could google Air France, a warm breath curled over the back of my neck.

  “Ms. Long.”

  That velvety, virile voice.

  “What?”

  “Let me come to the rescue again. I would be honored to have you fly with me on my plane.”

  Swiveling my head, I stared at him hard as I mulled over his offer. His sparkling blue eyes never strayed from mine.

  He playfully tugged at my braid, knowing the effect that had on me. “The offer expires in thirty seconds. I’m about to board.”

  “Fine,” I huffed back at him.

  Damn it. I was going to spend the next twelve hours with this pompous asshole on a plane. With no place to escape.

  CHAPTER 3

  Jaime’s private plane, somewhat smaller than mine, gave me the feeling of being someone’s modern but comfortable home. The main cabin was outfitted in soft lighting and sleek white leather seating that included an oversized couch and a pair of large reclining chairs that could swivel to face a built-in flat screen monitor. Bright orange pillows and cashmere throws were scattered everywhere. There was also a dining area with a burled table that could accommodate six people as well as a fully stocked bar. Several of his father’s colorful abstract paintings lined the shiny white walls.

  I sunk into one of the swivel chairs while Jaime plopped down onto the couch opposite me. As much as I hated takeoffs and needed someone’s hand to hold on to, I was not going to sit next to him.

  “Make yourself at home,” Jaime said brightly as we both buckled ourselves in. I noticed that “ZAP!” was engraved into the polished nickel seat belt clasp.

  An attractive, mini-skirted brunette came by and offered us drinks. I settled for a glass of white wine hoping it would calm my nerves while Jaime opted for some sparkling water. The attention the attendant lavished on Jaime was not lost on me.

  “Enjoy your beverage, Mr. Zander,” she said breathily, leaning in close to his lush lips. “And let me know if you need anything else.”

  The corners of his lips curled up into a sexy smile. “Thanks, Andrea.” He kept his eyes on her heart-shaped ass as she sashayed back to the service cabin.

  A frisson of jealousy shot through me. Was she one of his many fucks? I wouldn’t be surprised. She looked like his type.

  “Cheers,” said Jaime with an air toast. The wry expression on his face informed me that he had just read my mind.

  Cringing, I faked a small smile and took a sip of my wine. The chilled, perfectly balanced liquid went down smoothly. It never ceased to amaze me how even one sip of wine could have such a profound, relaxing effect.

  Jaime followed suit with a sip of his water. “So, what do you think?”

  “Of your staff?” Horny bitch!

  “No, of my plane.”

  I silently huffed. “Your plane’s actually very nice.”

  He grinned that cocky grin. “I designed it so that it would work seamlessly for both my business and personal use.”

  So for entertaining clients and screwing them. Or having fun with the crew.


  “There’s a bedroom in the back cabin if you get tired.”

  I gave him a dirty look. “I don’t plan on falling asleep. I have a lot of work to catch up on. I hope you’ll respect that.”

  “I’d be delighted to show you the way if you change your mind.”

  I rolled my eyes at his words.

  Over a loud speaker, the captain told us to prepare for takeoff. My heart dropped to my stomach as the plane whooshed down the tarmac, picking up speed until it lifted off the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut and prayed to God. I just wanted to be in the air cruising smoothly. As the plane made its ascent, my hands balled so hard my fingernails may have drawn blood.

  “Are you okay, Ms. Long?” I heard Jaime say.

  “Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. Oh God, NO!

  To my shock, I heard my seat belt unfasten, and when I popped my eyes open, I was back in his arms. He quickly transported me to the couch where he sunk down with me in his lap. He secured the orange seat belt around the both of us.

  The plane was ascending. I was hyperventilating.

  “Relax, Gloria, I’ve got you.”

  He was back to calling me Gloria, and I was back to needing him. As the plane continued its climb, I kept my eyes glued shut and leaned my head against his steely chest, his heart beating steadily against me. My breathing calmed. I’d never felt this safe during a takeoff.

  When we were finally cruising smoothly, having reached our maximum altitude, my eyes fluttered opened. I tilted my head up, and there he was as if he’d been waiting all this time for me to meet his gaze. His denim blue eyes glistened, and a warm smile played on his gorgeous face. He twisted my long braid around his hand. My core was buzzing. Damn the effect he was having on me! And even worse, he knew it!

  “So, Gloria, is your mind fucking with your body, or is your body fucking with your mind?”

  More semantics. “Don’t try anything.” I spit out the words, unsure if my body’s wants were going to trump my mind’s commands.

  “Hands off. I promise.” He raised both hands like someone about to be arrested.

  Still sitting on his lap, I suddenly become aware of the warm bulge that was pressing beneath me between my thighs. A bolt of lightening flared through my body.

  “Um, uh, I think it’s time for me to go back to my seat.” I reached for the seat belt clasp, but his hand got there first. He pressed his palm firmly against it, preventing me from undoing it.

  “Let me go!” I protested, futilely trying to lift his fingers off the metal fastener. I was seconds away from pounding his chest.

  “Look at me, Gloria.” It was one of his bossy commands.

  Reluctantly, I met his gaze, melting into it. My heart was galloping.

  “Why are you afraid of me, Gloria?”

  “I’m not afraid of you.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve been avoiding me all day.”

  “I don’t want to get hurt,” I blurted.

  His brows lifted. “Why do you think I’m going to hurt you?”

  “I don’t want to be thrown into your jar of hearts.”

  Pensiveness washed over his face. “Meaning…”

  “Ending up as one of your fuck’em and leave’em conquests.”

  He sucked in a gulp of air. “Gloria, you’re different. I’ve told you that. I feel a connection to you that I’ve never felt with anyone before. Why can’t you believe me? Trust me?”

  I unconsciously fiddled with his ring. “Because I can’t.”

  “That’s not a good enough answer.”

  Because he rouses feelings in me that I’ve never felt before. Emotions and sensations that make me lose myself in him. Because he is making me lose control and fall in love. Fighting tears, I murmured, “That’s the best I can do.”

  He released the seat belt and bounced me up with his powerful legs. “Enjoy the rest of your flight.”

  As I got to my feet, I couldn’t help noticing the affronted look on his face. Beneath his steely veneer, there was a layer of vulnerability. As I padded back to my original seat, I glimpsed one of his father’s paintings hanging on the cabin wall. It was a self-portrait of a man who looked a lot like Jaime except his eyes were forlorn, missing life-giving highlights. A reminder. Like father like son. His mother had left his father and destroyed him. Like me, Jaime was afraid of being hurt. There was no way in hell a relationship could ever work. On a sigh, my heart grew heavy.

  I spent the next couple of hours catching up on e-mails and sales reports, thankful that we were cruising smoothly. Occasionally, I glanced over to Jaime to see what he was doing. He, too, was engrossed in his work, but was also listening to music on his iPod through earphones. His long, jean-clad legs were stretched out along the couch. He had kicked off his shoes. There was something about his bare, perfectly formed manly feet that was a turn on. My eyes traveled up the length of his muscled limbs, passing over the prominent bulge between his thighs, then across his rippled abs and broad chest, and then on to his gorgeous face. He caught me staring at him, and I immediately turned away. That didn’t stop me from gazing at him again. Every so often, our eyes met. It became a game of timing—who could look away faster. It was hard for me to break eye contact with that distracting, sexy, stubbled face. I was losing the game.

  About two hours into the flight, a delicious lunch of cold poached salmon over a bed of mixed greens was served by another attractive brunette hostess; she could have easily been the sister of the other attendant, and for all I knew, she was. The image of Jaime fucking them both at the same time flickered in my head. A gaggle of arms and legs, moans and shrieks, cries and sighs. I forced it to go away.

  Jaime rose and moved over to the dining table.

  “Care to join me, Ms. Long?” he asked before lowering himself to one of the upholstered chairs. A smug smile played on his face.

  So, we were back to formalities and smirks.

  I quirked a smirk back at him. “I’m fine where I am.” I settled the platter on the arm of my chair and watched as the attendant obsequiously served him. I practically choked as she unfolded a napkin and placed it over his crotch and eyed him flirtatiously. Just his type—a shapely brunette who bore a resemblance to Vivien. I was positive beyond reasonable doubt she was one of his many fucks, especially by the way she’d eyed me suspiciously from the moment I’d set foot on the plane. An arrow of jealousy shot through me. And then I coughed up my wine when Jaime said, “Thanks, babe.” I felt my face redden and my throat constricting. Luckily, I managed to swallow before choking.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to join me?” asked Jaime as he lifted his fork to his sensuous mouth. He put a special emphasis on the word “sure” to cajole me. Or should I say, taunt me?

  Recovered from nearly gagging, I was tempted to join him at the table, just to piss off that obnoxious, flirty flight attendant, but ultimately I declined. A smug “whatever” expression crossed his face. He shrugged his shoulders and continued to consume his meal, this time without looking my way once. He was playing me for sure, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  After finishing lunch, I decided I’d done enough work and pulled out my eReader. I had loaded several erotic romance novels onto it before leaving Los Angeles. I’d known that it was unlikely I’d ever get to them with my hectic New York schedule, but now I had an opportunity. Actually, it was more of a need. The need to totally lose myself in a happily ever after fantasy and escape my own uncertain reality and the spell Jaime Zander had on me. He was back on the couch, sprawled out across it, his shoes kicked off, and his eyes closed as he listened to his iPod. I watched as he rhythmically rocked his head and hips to the music that was piping through his earphones. When he began to whistle, I knew what song was making him groove. Gnarls Barkley’s “Crazy.” Oh, God! Tingles coursed through my body. My core was aching. This gorgeous man was making me crazy. I fought the urge to throw myself on top of him and silence that whistle of his with my mouth. And then really make him crazy.
Stop it, Gloria. Read!

  As I powered on my eReader, the plane suddenly dropped. My stomach did a free fall as a giant lump rose to my throat. The captain’s voice filtered through the speaker system. “Mr. Zander and Ms. Long, I’m afraid we have run into some unexpected turbulence.”

  Turbulence! Nausea spiraled inside me at the sound of the word. The plane shook. And so did my hands. The eReader fell to my lap. I reached for my lunch plate and wine glass to steady them, but not in time. With a shattering crash, they flew to the floor.

  “Please be sure your seat belts are securely fastened,” the captain continued. I quickly glanced down at mine to be sure it was. My terror-filled eyes then shot over to Jaime. He mumbled “Fuck” as he bolted to an upright position.

  To my horror, the plane bounced back up and just as quickly bounced right back down. My stomach rushed to my heart. Everything inside the shaking plane was rattling, especially the bottles inside the liquor cabinet. I glanced outside a window. The wings of the plane were flapping so hard I thought they’d fall off. I gulped. Another bounce!

  The unsteadiness of the plane was wrecking havoc on my system. I was petrified. Shaking all over and feeling sick to my stomach. In all my travels, I’d never experienced turbulence as severe as this. The plane continued to yo-yo up and down the sinister gray cloud we were powering through, my torn apart insides bouncing along. Trembling, I squeezed my eyes shut and clutched the armrests, my fingernails clawing the edges. I heard myself hyperventilating as sweat poured out of every crevice of my body. Deep breath in, deep breath out, I told myself. It was impossible. My stomach churned. I was going to be sick. Bile pooled in the back of my throat as the plane shook violently, still bouncing across the angry sky. Lunch was on its way up next. Terror consumed me. My frantic pants morphed into frantic whimpers. Tears leaked from my eyes as I cried out loud, “Oh God, oh God, oh God.”

  My heart was about to beat out of my body. Another major dip. Another shriek. I was going to die! This was it! Maybe I’d faint first! Please let me faint! Please! Instinctively, I fumbled for my seat belt—there was no chance in hell it was going to save me—so why the hell was I squeezing it tighter? A set of warm fingers met mine. The clasp snapped open, and in a heartbeat, I was once again in strong, familiar arms, being whisked away. I managed to pry one eye open.