Page 51 of Shades of Grey & Gold

“Who called you at the office? Where are we going?” I can see buildings out the window and didn’t get to ask any of my questions.

“That was my brother, and we are going to fix the latest… grey mess.” His eyelids slide shut. “You should probably stay on the plane, and I’ll get you on a flight back out. I shouldn’t bring you into this.”

“What happened to the ‘whole adult who can make her own choices’ thing you said earlier? You think I’m too light for a little dark, Reed? I’m not some twenty-two-year-old who needs pulled out anymore.” I lean forward and reach across the table with my good hand. “If this is really hard for you, let me help. I can be your light and pull you back up if you need it. Don’t shut me out like you did when you left last time, Cal.”

My hand closes around his that’s resting on the table as the plane touches down on a runway. His sigh feels drawn out and he rolls his lips, shaking his head.

“You have to listen to me if you stay, Max. You have to follow every rule, even if it’s stupid or seems silly. I can’t risk—” His eyes find mine as the plane slowly turns and he looks at me like he can’t bear to lose me—my heart flips. “Morally ambiguous, that’s what I said, and that was generous, Max. You have to try and understand the words I can’t say out loud.”

Back to the CIA-level obscurity.

“Okay, James Bond,” I sit back and throw my hands up in the air, trying to lighten the mood, but his facial expression is anything but jovial. “Not James Bond? Okay. Other side of the table then. Lex Luthor?”

His expression doesn’t change, he doesn’t even blink, but I let out a small giggle.

“No? So not a supervillain. Not Batman. Worse than a supervillain?” I hum and tap my chin, the plane shifts directions again. “A hitman?”

I’m holding in another laugh now, but it lodges in my throat when his eyes flick down and he swallows.

“Max…” He starts to unbuckle.

“Oh, I got it! Tony Soprano! Or maybe Michael Corleone?”

His eyes meet mine and his hand freezes, the buckle only halfway across his chest.

You have to understand the words I can’t say out loud.

My smile falls faster than the glass after turbulence.

My eyes are darting around at the clues I missed. First landing on his Rolex that I barely noticed before, then out the window to another private jetway we have finally stopped on, and finally to Denise, who is walking towards us with her hands tucked tightly behind her back.

“I hope your flight was enjoyable, sir,” she says with a nod, almost bows, then I watch her as she walks past us and begins opening the plane door.

Sir.

My eyes are back on him and his are stuck on me, evaluating my reaction. I follow his hands as they reach behind him and he stands, grabbing a suit jacket and shrugging it on.

“I’m sorry, Max. It’s okay. You can stay right here, and I will have Denise get you on a flight back.”

I’m still staring straight ahead at his empty white seat.

My mind is whirling.

I spent every day with him years ago. I had zero reason to think he owned a private jet. But aren’t mob-y things like lifelong? Like family commitments? Or is this something he got into when he left?

Fear and curiosity battle inside my head. Part of me wants to know, because it’s Cal of all people. My Cal. Not mine. Not my Cal, but Cal! The Cal who made me feel everything when I couldn’t. The Cal who was my safe space. But red lights are also flashing behind my eyes screaming,Danger, you idiot!

But honestly, what do I have to go back to? The office to see Patrick and Brenda?

Out of the corner of my eye, Cal steps toward me, lifting his foot and my body jerks as my chair spins to face him. He’s standing in the aisle just like he had before he bandaged my hand. I have to tilt my head all the way back to meet his gaze. He’s towering over me and he leans down, his hands resting on either armrest, surrounding me, caging me.

But it doesn’t feel like a cage. My breath catches in my throat, a cold sweat breaking out on every inch of my body. But not in fear. It’s the opposite. It feels like a safe place, a well-known cozy couch. The safest place, one that I fell into every time Patrick and I fought; the safe place that was always there day or night.

The safe place he’s tucked me into the past two months like nothing changed between us. But everything has changed. Because now, there’s nothing stopping me from acknowledging the heat that swirls between us.

“You can stay here and go back.” His eyes are hard on mine and his jaw ticks. “Or you can stand up, agree to listen to everything I say, and I’ll do my best to be the lightest possible shade of morally grey I can be.”

My breath is still caught in my lungs, and his lips are inches from my own. His eyes jump between mine. His familiar scent, leather and something—like metallic smoke—drifts around me, and the golden-green rimming his eyes sends chills runningup my legs and down my arms, but I’m unbuckling before my mind has a second to catch up.