by Ana Sparks
“Aimee, calm down. Everything is going to be okay,” I murmur soothingly, reaching out to grip her hand in my own.
She doesn’t seem particularly soothed by my words, but they’re all I can offer for the time being. My sweet personal assistant glances from me, to the horde of angry Russians, before chuckling softly.
“You’re right. Of course, you’re always right,” she breathes, her tone surprisingly absent of malice.
I offer her a smile, faltering as my potential business partners begin to curse at each other in their mother tongue. Something has them in a tizzy, though it’s unclear from how loud and chaotic the shouts are getting. They keep repeating something about the papers, the papers being missing. I have no idea what papers they could be talking about, and grumble unhappily.
“What papers could be so important…” I trail off, eyes widening as I hone in on one man in particular.
He screams curses regarding my company headquarters, wondering aloud who could be foolish enough to lose the finalization documents.
“Shit! The documents are missing!” I cry out, looking to Aimee with wariness in my gaze. “I thought you transferred those files to my personal cloud before the trip,” I hiss urgently. She appears to be on the verge of tears, fidgeting with the hem of her dress and refusing to meet my gaze. “Aimee!” I demand.
“I’m so sorry, Carson. It was an accident… I didn’t know what I was doing and I…I deleted the files from the cloud server. Everything regarding the Russian deal is gone,” she finally admits in a whisper, and my eyes widen in shock.
As much as I want to be angry, there’s little time for that. Aimee grinds her teeth, wrapping her arms around herself.
“Just tell them I screwed up. Surely it can be fixed,” she pleads, fear shining in her gaze.
The possibility of throwing Aimee under the bus doesn’t even occur to me, and even as she’s mentioned it, I refuse to consider it. Our only out has been flushed down the metaphorical toilet.
While the situation seems grim, I notice that the security guards for the venue are trying to keep the Russian businessmen under control. A fight breaks out, and my heart hammers in my chest. The remaining guard watching us darts away to deal with the disturbance, and I grab Aimee by the hand.
“Be quiet, keep your head down, and run,” I hiss.
Leaping to my feet, I nudge her ahead of me and towards the exit. We’re nearly out the door, and I breathe a sigh of relief when it seems we’re home free. An abrupt shout for us to stop puts a snag in that plan, however, and Aimee looks towards me imploringly.
“The car! Get to the car,” I cry out. I grab her by the wrist, pulling her along with me as we dart through the parking lot. She kicks off the heels she’d worn for the flashy event, and it’s no small wonder that she hasn’t already broken an ankle.
“Shit, they’re right behind us!” she swears, speeding up now that her movement is less limited. It takes me only a few strides to catch up with her, and I can’t help but admire her form as she runs for the car.
Shaking off the dirty thoughts that swirl through my mind, I grab the key from my pocket and hit the button to unlock all the car doors. Aimee slides across the hood of the car, swiftly pulling herself into the passenger seat as I dive behind the steering wheel. I’m so preoccupied that I barely register what a badass move the young woman had just pulled, but when I do, my lips twitch into a smile. I jam the key into the ignition, glancing into the rearview mirror just in time to see the crowd closing in on us.
“Hold on to your ass,” I shout, shifting the car into drive and slamming the pedal to the metal.
The tires squeal, and for a moment, I’m afraid they won’t catch. However, that fear is almost immediately squashed as the car surges forward, out of the parking lot. Aimee twists in her seat, watching the scene unfolding behind us.
Hopefully, I have a bit of time before it occurs to the men to get in their pricy cars and chase us—or worse yet, alert the authorities that we’re fleeing the scene. The sound of burning rubber from behind us assures me that I have even less time than I anticipated, and Aimee growls as she fumbles with her cellphone.
“Mike’s number. Go!” she cries out, and without really thinking, I recite the number from memory.
She dials the number, clutching her phone white-knuckled before abruptly reaching out to grab the steering wheel, forcing me to turn down a side road that’s entirely off the course we’re headed. I cry out in shock, but take the turn she’s indicated as the call connects.
“Mike, get Taylor and get the plane ready. We’ll be there in five, and you’d better be ready to fly,” she shouts, listening to the other man for a moment before nodding. “Yeah, the deal went sour. We’ll talk about it later. Just be ready.” She swipes her phone to end the call, glancing behind us.
“I have no idea which way we’re going,” I admit, following the back roads as far as I’m able. “That last turn threw me off.”
“I may have gotten us into this mess, but I’m going to get us out of it. Just trust me, Carson,” she urges.
I nod, glancing briefly behind us.
“We lost half of them on that last turn; there are only a few following us, now. When you come to the next right turn, make it. We’re going to go in a circle to confuse them, then we’ll hit the runway before they can figure out where we’ve gone,” Aimee says quickly, continuing to stare through the back windshield.
The abrupt sound of a gunshot pierces the air, and the glass of the back window shatters. Aimee gasps in shock, but grips my arm and urges me to keep driving.
“I probably should have clarified the sort we were making a deal with,” I mutter, and she laughs weakly, pressing her free hand to her bleeding cheek. Some broken glass has marred her perfect skin. “How come you know all of these evasive tactics, anyway?” I inquire, and she laughs, a high-pitched and borderline hysterical sound.
“I had a phase in college where I was really into action movies. Maybe it was of some use, after all,” she giggles.
My eyes widen, and I swerve into the next turn, the side of the car scraping against the side of a building as we go.
“Jesus Christ, Aimee. You’re kidding, right?” I manage weakly. She exhales a shuddering sigh, dabbing at her cheek with a tissue she seems to have produced from out of nowhere.
“Afraid not. We’ve lost them, though. Don’t get back on the main roads. I have an idea of where the airport is, and there’s gotta be a back way,” she says blithely.
I’m simultaneously struck by the overwhelming desire to shout at her or kiss her. I can’t decide which. Maybe both. Managing to rein in my emotions, I follow her directions until we pull out of the back alleyway. It seems we’ll be in the clear soon, but as I make another turn, my heart breaks. There’s a roadblock just ahead of us. We’re trapped.
“Don’t stop,” Aimee hisses, resting her hand on my shoulder and forcing me to lower my head. “Keep your head low, but smash through. They’ll shoot, but we’re so close.”
It doesn’t occur to me to argue with her. We'll either lose our lives trying to escape, or lose our lives after surrender. Perhaps I’d seen a few too many action movies myself, but Carson Sharpe isn’t one to give up so easily.
“If we don’t survive this—” I begin, but she levels me with a glare so intense that my mouth goes dry.
“Don’t even. Brace yourself, and whatever you do, don’t take your foot off the gas,” she says loudly.
Sirens echo all around us, and I can hear the shouts over a megaphone for us to come to a complete stop. I almost feel bad for the men; they have no way of knowing what’s about to happen.
Aimee’s grip tightens on my arm, and I inhale a deep breath as we plow through the barricade, gunfire assaulting the vehicle. The bullets manage to miss the both of us, though the car doesn’t seem as if it will hold out much longer. To my utter delight, however, the sight of the small airport we’d landed in only a few hours before comes into sight ju
st over the next hill. I whoop victoriously, reaching out to grip Aimee’s hand.
“We’re going to make it. I’ll be damned; we’re going to make it,” I breathe.
She remains silent, keeping her eyes on the road behind us. The car begins to sputter and choke, slowing markedly, and I push it to its last limits until we roll to a stop only a few feet away from the runway.
We leap out of our seats immediately, and Mike looks startled to see us. His eyes widen even more dramatically as he sees the convoy of vehicles on our tail.
“Holy shit! Get in, come on!” he shouts. “Taylor, ready the engine. We need to get out of here like twenty minutes ago!”
“Get in here and take the controls,” Taylor shouts, lurching out of his seat as the plane starts to move. Coming to the side door, he reaches out to take my hand and drag me into the open door. I grab Aimee in turn, and we tumble into the plane, Taylor dragging the door shut behind us just before the jet begins to lift off.
“Holy shit, Taylor,” I manage, glancing up at the man. He smiles wryly, helping Aimee to her feet. She gasps shakily for breath, throwing her arms him. He stiffens, but accepts her clumsy embrace.
“Hey now! There will be time for celebration when we’re back in the United States. Get up here and help me, Taylor,” Mike calls out.
Now that we’re alone, Aimee turns her attention to me, her skin flushed from exertion, her hair unkempt, and her forehead damp with sweat. She’s a mess. I can’t imagine I look any different, but in that moment, I realize just how beautiful she truly is.
Now, we’re home free.
Chapter Fifteen
Aimee
As the jet gains altitude over Saint Petersburg, my heart nearly shatters at the danger I’d inadvertently subjected Carson to. If I hadn’t been so careless in my job as his assistant, we wouldn’t have had any danger to evade. Tears spring unbidden to my eyes, and I quickly move to wipe them away.
“Aimee,” Carson whispers, gripping me by the chin and forcing me to meet his gaze. The anger I expect to see is entirely absent, and it only makes my tears fall faster.
“I’m so sorry, Carson. I never meant for any of this to happen.” I blubber, gasping as he draws me in closer.
He rests his chin atop my head, his soft chuckle rumbling through me. Failing to see the humor in the situation, I bury my face in his broad chest and try to swallow my choking sobs.
“My sweet, dear Aimee…if it hadn’t been for you remaining at my side through all this, I have no doubt that I would be six feet under right now. You saved my life tonight. But more than that, you risked your own in the process,” he murmurs, and his smile is just a little mournful.
He brushes his thumb just below the wound on my cheek, and I shiver at the touch.
“If you had never met me, you’d be a few billion dollars richer and wouldn’t have to deal with a blubbering wreck of a woman on the flight home,” I grumble, unable to contain my anger at myself.
Carson, the dear man that he is, raises a brow and presses a kiss to my forehead. His anger is ever absent, and he pulls me back against his chest. I realize there is nowhere that I would rather be, but I also know that there’s no way he could feel the same for me.
“If I’d never met you…I would never have fallen in love. This trip has made it abundantly clear for me. I don’t care about some Russian deal; I don’t care about any deal. All I want is you,” he whispers, stroking a hand along my back.
As if he doesn’t feel me stiffening in his arms, or realize the gravity of his words, he continues speaking.
“I understand if you don’t feel the same, but…” he trails off as I draw away to look him in the eye. My lips part of their own accord, and I flick my tongue out to moisten them.
Arousal darkens Carson’s earnest gaze, but it’s not just sexual desire I see reflected in his eyes. I see pure, unadulterated adoration—the same that I find myself feeling for him. Allowing my eyes to shut, I slowly close the distance between us.
His lips brush against mine, but a sudden thought causes me to hesitate and draw away with uncertainty. What Carson’s trusted pilots had told me races through my mind, and I can only wonder if he’s ever played this card before. Feeling his eyes upon me, I move to stammer out an apology.
“I just…how could someone like you fall for someone like me? I could understand something casual, but to truly love me…?” I trail off, averting my gaze.
He glances towards the cockpit, then grimaces as he turns his attention back to me, pain obvious in his expression.
“I can’t lie to you, Aimee. In the past, my feelings for you would be founded on sexual desire alone. For years, I thought I was happy to just play the game, but from the moment I met you, I knew you were different.” He pauses, caressing my cheek.
As much as I want to believe him, I’m not sure if I should. My heart aches so sharply for this man who holds me in his arms, who claims to hold me in his heart. Looking into his eyes, I search for any sign of deceit. Some signal that he’s pulling a fast one on me, or that he’ll see himself freed of my company once the plane lands.
There is no such hidden emotion in his expression. I look at him and see a man earnestly pouring his heart out. A wonderful man that any woman would be lucky to find herself with. My handsome heartbreaker of a lover. My billionaire boss. As much as I want to simply fall into his arms, there is a lingering thought that concerns me.
“Wait…do you mean that I won’t just be some secret affair? You actually want to pursue a real relationship with me?” I ask.
He grins at me, resting his forehead against mine.
“I would like nothing more. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Aimee, and while I know it’s a bit soon to be saying this kind of stuff, I don’t care,” he says with a vaguely mischievous look in his eyes.
“It would be rather unprofessional for you to pursue your personal assistant in a romantic relationship, don’t you think? Perhaps you would consider placing me back in my original position in the marketing department?” I tease, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.
He laughs loudly, as if he can’t believe that I would bring up work in such a serious moment.
“Well, you do have a point there. I don’t intend to treat you as anything less than an equal. If anything, I want to grant your every wish, provide every desire—” he pauses, tangling a hand in my hair. “Your wish is my command,” he declares grandly.
I smirk, rolling my eyes at his silliness.
“I want to be with you. I want to spend every night in your bed, gripped in your strong arms. More than anything, though—” I murmur, hesitating as I trail my fingertips down the front of his shirt. His eyes darken, and I bite my lip as I consider him with the sultriest expression I can manage. “I want to offer my resignation as your personal assistant,” I grin, leaning in to press my lips to his in a teasing kiss.
I expect him to leave the embrace at that, but I’m pleasantly surprised as he wraps said strong arms around me. He tangles his hands in my hair, parting my lips with his tongue and completely exploring my mouth.
There is nothing hurried about the embrace, and there’s something all the more enchanting about the leisurely way he traces a hand down to the back of my neck. I gasp, pouting as he draws away. He simply grins and lowers his head to my neck, kissing a path to my shoulder.
“I certainly hope you can find the kindness to continue assisting me in certain personal matters,” he murmurs against my skin, grazing his teeth against my shoulder. I moan softly, the sensations amplified by the adrenaline that has been flooding my system since we evaded capture.
“Hey!” Taylor calls abruptly, looking at us through the still-parted curtain that separates the cabin from the cockpit. “If you’re planning to start that stuff again, can it at least wait until we land? I’ve had just about enough excitement for the day,” he drawls.
Amusement bubbles up inside me, accompanied by an odd sense of familiarity. There’s an
undeniable bond between the men; that much had been clear from the start. The fact that I’ve been welcomed into their dynamic only serves to solidify that I’m making the right decision. Carson begins to chuckle as well, before cutting himself short and staring at Taylor and Mike with a serious expression.
“You know, you two nearly risked my relationship with this beautiful woman. I could see you fired for that. What do you have to say for yourselves?” He demands brusquely.
I watch him with wide eyes, swallowing a giggle as he winks at me. Mike begins to stammer and apologize, but Taylor remains silent, eyes on the controls.
“She deserved better,” Taylor finally answers, silencing Mike’s awkward babbling. Mike stops short, staring with wide eyes at his co-pilot. I expect him to argue, but his face hardens and he turns to face Carson with a defiant expression.
“Taylor’s right. Miss Rhodes deserved better than the Carson we’ve experienced,” Mike says firmly. Carson looks taken aback, torn between amusement and offense. “As far as the Carson we’re getting to know, now, however…” he trails off, glancing to Taylor for backup.
The more serious of the two takes his hand off the controls for a brief moment, giving the three of us a thumbs up.
“So glad to have your approval,” Carson says dryly. “As far as waiting until we make it back to the States, you’re lucky that I’m such a magnanimous boss,” he continues haughtily, though I know he’s being silly.
God, to see him being so lighthearted and playful sends a throb through my heart. He’s not just my boss anymore, though; that’s something I have to keep reminding myself of.
Carson is in love with me. We’re going to be pursuing a relationship. For better or for worse, we’ll be at each other’s sides. With as much as we’ve faced so far, I have my doubts that anything will come between us in the future.
Then again, I’m not a fortune-teller, but my intuition tells me that Carson and I have a long and wonderful future ahead of us. I won’t be divulging that thought so soon, however. I don’t want him to get a big head—or, well, a bigger head.
