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I was so stupid.
He doesn’t see me sitting inside one of The Songbird’s bars, nursing the same glass of wine I’ve had for the past hour.
But I see him.
Everyone sees him.
People’s heads turn, following him as he moves fluidly in his immaculate suit and Italian leather shoes. He commands attention effortlessly, exuding the grace and confidence of a man who has it all. And what he doesn’t have, he gets.
“I always win, Ava.”
I swallow down bile in my throat as a woman drops a book she’s carrying as Jet approaches. He stops, picking it up and handing it to her. She gushes, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she tries and fails to draw him into conversation. She turns and watches him walk away, eyes drinking him in without shame.
I get it. I was falling for it too. The dark-haired, blue-eyed billionaire pilot who wears a suit like he was born in it. He couldn’t look any better. But now I know it’s all an act. A shiny façade to the self-preserving bastard beneath.
I shove my phone into my purse before slinging it over my shoulder.
“I need to check out early.” Jet’s deep baritone carries from where he’s standing in his charcoal suit at the desk.
“Oh? Was everything to your satisfaction, Mr. Grant?” the male staff member asks.
“Everything was fine. But I need to get back to LA.”
“Of course. I’ll arrange someone to collect your luggage and bring it down for you.”
“That’s not necessary, I can manage.”
They finish talking and he turns.
Piercing blue eyes, rimmed with red and shadowed by dark circles, meet mine with an intensity that makes me falter. Makes me question everything. Maybe I’ve got it wrong. He wouldn’t do this to me. It’s a mistake.
Tell me it’s a mistake, Jet.
“Ava?”
That one word breathed out in his deep voice threatens to dissolve every barrier I’ve been putting up on the flight over here. Barriers to keep him out. To protect myself from further hurt, even if the catastrophic damage is already done.
“You’re here.” His eyes drop over my body like he’s checking if I’m real. “When did you arrive?”
“My plane landed two hours ago.”
His dark brows lift. “You flew here? Alone?”
“I don’t need you to get on a plane anymore.”
His face closes off, the hint of what I swear was admiration in his eyes, dying in a flash.
“You didn’t need me the first time, either. You’re strong all by yourself.”
My heart squeezes as he places his hand on my lower back.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, before noticing the people behind me that I’m blocking from getting to the desk. Jet steers me to one side, positioning us in a quiet area against the wall. Then he removes his hand from me immediately.
“Ava, I’m—”
“If you tell me you’re sorry, I swear to god, I’ll kill you right here. Your apologies mean shit.” My voice cracks, betraying my emotion.
It’s written all over my face how much he’s hurt me. I saw it in the airplane bathroom mirror before we landed. And again in the restrooms here while I’ve been waiting for him to appear.
