Page 74 of Wildest Dreams


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He raises an eyebrow. “And those are?”

“I’m forgetful. I suspect that when we get to the hotel, I’ll discover that I left something at home that I need.”

“You have your passport, right?”

“I’m not that forgetful.”

“Then anything else can be replaced. What else is wrong with you?”

That makes me snicker. “I’m pretty stubborn.”

“I noticed.”

I laugh again, and he grins at me. “God, I love your smile, Ryan Wild.”

He pulls me closer to him and kisses my forehead.

“Wanna know a secret?” I ask him in a whisper.

“I want to know all your secrets.”

“I think you’re incredible,” I reply, feeling safe here in this cozy bed, in the dark, so high up in the sky. “I’ve been proud of you for years because you were my brother’s best friend. I’ve seen how you help people. Sure, you’re rich. I don’t even want to know how much this plane cost.”

“About sixty million,” he says with a shrug, and my eyes just about bug out of my head.

“Fucking hell, Ryan.”

“But back to what you were saying.”

I swallow hard and lick my lips again. “Jesus, I can’t even wrap my head around that. Anyway, I know that you’re generous, and you’re so damn intelligent. You’re amazing with your son, and you have a fabulous family. And don’t even get me started on how freaking handsome you are.”

“No, go on. Tell me how hot I am.”

I laugh and lean in to quickly kiss him. “Also, you’re so humble.”

“I really am.”

“I guess I’m saying that the sentiment is reciprocated here. I think you’re incredible, too.”

His eyes sober as he drags his fingertips down my cheek. “Thanks, babe. We should sleep for a few hours.”

“I could sleep.” I move into him, rest my cheek on his chest, and take a deep breath. “You know you’ve now ruined me for all other travel. How am I supposed to book a commercial flight after this?”

He chuckles and kisses the top of my head. “You don’t need to book any commercial flights. Go to sleep, beautiful girl.”

With a sigh, I feel myself falling into sleep with the sound of his heart under my ear.

“Welcome home.” The bellman at the Ritz tips his hat to me as Ryan, with his hand in mine, leads me through the doors of the hotel, up the stairs, and through the revolving door into the lobby. His security team met us at the airport and followed us to the hotel. Now, two big, burly men with earpieces in their ears, wearing suits, follow us inside.

I take a second to soak it in. The floors are marble, with blue and gold rugs that line the long hallway down to what I assume are the restaurants. There are three steps up to the right that lead to the concierge desk, and the reception desks are just around the corner.

Ryan quickly handles the check-in, and we’re escorted to the nearby elevator and up to the second floor, then down a hallway to a double door with the words Suite Coco Chanel written on the right-hand side.

My wide eyes look up to find Ryan smiling down at me.

“No way.”

“Right this way, mademoiselle,” the man says as he unlocks the door and escorts us inside, me at the front. The security detail stays behind in the hallway. “You have the whole suite, which includes two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Everything is as you requested, Mr. Wild.”

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