Page 108 of Wrong Room, Right Billionaire

Claire- But what about the photos? On the beach? Are those real?

I think about that. She has to be referring to the array of photos posted of us playing in the water, kissing and clearly having an amazing time. Clearly falling in love. And I suppose, especially after last night, I feel like I at least owe her that truth.

Scarlett- Yes. The beach photos are all exactly what they look like…

Claire- Oh my god. How could you leave me in the dark like this? And how could you be traveling and jumping off cliffs and going out considering that?

Considering that? Considering what?

I am about to ask her when I hear Morgan’s voice.

“Well that’s just fucking fantastic, isn’t it?” he growls. “Seriously. Is he going to fuck with every aspect of my life!?”

“What is it? What happened?” I ask.

Morgan is reeling, pacing and clenching his jaw, and looking like he wants to punch something. Donovan is nodding with pursed lips.

“What happened?” Morgan says. “Is my brother fucking with our flight plans.”

“The flight plans?” I echo. “How can he mess with the flight plans? We’re using your private jet.”

“Because he has access to the jet as well as the mechanics involved in our flight,” he snaps, still pacing.

I look over at Donovan. “I don’t understand.”

“Apparently Conrad scheduled a routine maintenance order for the jet. Right now,” Donovan explains.

“Oh,” I say. “I mean that’s…inconvenient… but those don’t usually take more than an hour or two, do they?”

“They take longer if they find something wrong,” Morgan says.

“Did they?” I ask.

“No,” Morgan says, “because there is nothing wrong.”

“But apparently they think there might be something wrong,” Donovan says. “As in there’s a fake problem keeping us from flying.”

“Oh,” I sigh. “So…now what?”

“Now, if we want to stay on schedule, we have to fly commercial,” Morgan mutters.

“First class,” Donovan offers.

“But commercial,” Morgan says before we pick up our bags and head to the main terminal.

There’s something to be said for traveling with a person. Flying in specific. You learn a lot about them as they wait in lines, rush to gates, and go through security. And speaking of that… it is very, very clear that Morgan could add going through regular airport security to his never have I ever list. Because while I whisk through with little to no issues because my shoes slip on and off, I never wear dangling or bulky earrings on travel days and all my lotions and sprays are the right size. Morgan on the other hand is a hot mess.

“Why are they making me take things out of my bag? Isn’t that what the cameras are for? Why does my laptop need a separate bin? Why are the bins moving so fast? Raise my arms and do what? What is the point of taking shoes off, seriously?”

I almost feel bad as he struggles through literally every stage of it, getting stopped, questioned, and told to do things over and over. By the end of it, because he is arguing so much, it automatically makes him look suspicious. So while he is being patted down and metal detected, another guard literally dumps his messenger bag out into a bin and throws the bag itself into a fourth bin.

“Are you kidding me right now?” I hear him say and then pat him down a second time, and if I’m being honest, I almost chuckle. Donovan, like me, is already on the other side. In fact, he’s already got his shoes on and is scoping the gates on the screens to make sure we aren’t going to miss the flight.

As Morgan’s bins come to the end of the belt, I decide to help him out and grab his bag and shove his laptop and tablet into it. Then I grab all the items out of the other bin. He’s going to have to buy more toothpaste and a new razor when we get to New York.

I’m nearly finished as he grabs his shoes, grumbling about all of it, and I can’t help but smile. Until my hand pauses over the bin when I reach for the last item.

It’s a book. A notebook. My notebook.