Page 53 of Fake It For Glory

JENSEN

Sitting comfortably in my private jet, I leaned back into the plush leather seat, the hum of the engines surrounding me with a sense of familiarity and luxury. I liked to think of myself as a regular dude, but damn, money could buy comfort.

The private jet was something Hattie encouraged me to buy a few years ago. I resisted at first. I didn’t want to be one of those rich douchebags jetting around the world on my private jet, but in this instance, I was happy to accept my status as a rich douchebag. Flying around the world once a week was only doable when it was done in comfort, and I was in total comfort on my jet.

Hattie was seated across from me, a tablet in hand, ready to give me the rundown of our upcoming events in Paris. Susan was on the phone handling whatever it was she handled. I was a man that required two assistants to keep my life running smoothly. Twenty years ago, I never would have believed I would be so successful and in such high demand. People went out of their way to ignore me most of the time. Now, the entire world was clamoring to have a few minutes with me.

“Jensen, we’ve got a packed schedule in Paris,” Hattie began, her tone as composed and efficient as always. She proceeded to detail the meetings, gala events, and networking opportunities that awaited us in the City of Light.

I listened attentively, nodding occasionally as she provided me with key information and reminders. I only needed to half-listen. She and Susan would remind me of every event in time for me to get ready. Paris was a pivotal stop in our whirlwind tour, a chance to connect with influential figures in the tech world and showcase the potential of Lox.

As Hattie spoke, I couldn’t help but notice Merida across from me. She was engrossed in her work, her fingers dancing gracefully over the keyboard of her laptop. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, and she seemed entirely absorbed in whatever she was doing. Her dedication to her work was admirable, and I respected her commitment.

I liked that she didn’t need me to hold her hand or constantly give her attention. She asked if it was okay if she brought her laptop so she could work. I loved how she asked if it was okay if she worked on her day job stuff while she was with me. I liked watching her work. I knew the look on her face. I got it too when I was onto something. She was completely in the moment. When I was working on new coding, I would go hours without eating. Hattie told me she talked to me and I never remembered it.

I couldn’t see her screen, and I didn’t want to intrude by asking. From our previous conversations, I assumed she was working on something related to her “simple living” column. It made sense, given her passion for the topic. She had made it very clear she believed in what she wrote.

As Hattie continued with her briefing, I allowed myself a moment to appreciate the dedication of the people around me. I would be nowhere without them. I was grateful for their hard work and support. But my thoughts kept drifting back to Merida. Yes, I was paying her, but I believed there could be something else. Something more. It was a little scary to let myself think of it, but what if she and I could be together? She would be a force beside me.

“After a late-night interview, we’ll be up early and heading for Dubai for the yacht show,” Hattie continued.

I waved her off. “It’s fine. I don’t need details. Merida is trying to work. She doesn’t need to hear all of this. You can just tell me when and where I need to be.”

However, to my surprise, Merida shook her head, her beautiful brown eyes filled with genuine curiosity. “Quite the contrary,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of intrigue. “I’m actually quite curious. A yacht show seems very, uh, opulent. Very royal. How does this align with your mission of helping people?”

Her question gave me pause. It was a valid point. I understood why she was asking. I made a pretty big deal about helping people with my tech.

“They want his technology,” Hattie answered.

“They do?”

“Yes,” Hattie answered again.

I scowled at her. “She doesn’t care.”

“No, I do,” Merida said. “You sold your technology as this great help to people that needed a little help with their daily lives. How does yacht technology help anyone?”

“The technology isn’t necessarily going to help everyday people,” I explained. “But the yacht owners are a demographic of people I can tap into for investments. I make their lives easier and they thank me by investing. That gives me leeway to make the lives of other people better.”

Merida nodded, seeming to understand.

Suddenly, Hattie’s voice broke through my thoughts. “Any questions about the schedule?”

“What? No. You’ll remind me what to do and where to be.”

She rolled her eyes. “You would be lost without me.”

“Yes, I would,” I said, grinning.

“I’m drinking on the flight over,” she said as she got to her feet. “I’m officially off duty. Don’t ask me for anything.”

After Hattie left, it was just me and Merida near the front of the plane. Hattie and Susan were in the back, giving us as much privacy as possible in a small cabin.

“Do you need anything?” I asked her.

She looked up from her screen and smiled while her fingers continued to type. That always freaked me out when my secretary could type while looking straight at me and have a conversation. It was creepy, like their head and fingers were not connected.

“I’m good,” she said in a voice that was just a little higher pitched than normal.