Page 4 of Terms of the Flight

“What’s up, ladies. I think it’s time to be stamped, and you know I had to pair this trip with scent.” I rolled the oil along the inside of my wrist.

“Today’s stamp is Jet Lagged & Unbothered. She’s soft vanilla, warm amber, and a little bit of trouble at cruising altitude. Perfect for when you’re booked, busy, and pretending your car didn’t almost embarrass you before work.”

I leaned in closer and lowered my voice.

“And remember, ladies, the scent is not for chasing. It’s for being remembered.”

I blew a kiss toward the camera, stopped the recording, and grinned when I played it back.

Cute. Quick. No client information. No chaos.

Exactly how I liked it.

“Damn. I asked for a quiet flight, and somehow walked into a whole segment.”

My shoulders locked before the rest of me could catch up. I gripped the sides of my dress for a moment, then bent forward slightly to collapse my tripod.

Slowly, I turned toward the cabin entrance, already praying my face didn’t look as guilty as my spirit felt.

A man stood just inside the doorway, one hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored slacks, the other wrapped around the handle of a sleek black carry-on. He looked too calm to have startled me and too amused to pretend he hadn’t enjoyed it.

Of course.

Mr. Chilled-Fiji-No-Ice-Minimal-Conversation himself.

I lifted my chin and gave him the same smile I reserved for turbulence, difficult clients, and men who were too fine to be trusted.

“Good morning, Mr. Blackwell. I see we’re arriving before the itinerary now.”

He smirked down at me as he swaggered around me and took the seat I’d made sure was all put together for his arrival.

Mr. Blackwell was nothing like what I’d expected. I just knew he would be an old man with old money. But no. This man was everything but that.

His brow lifted in my direction as his cheek dipped, showing off his dimple. If I were a lesser woman, impressed by every fine man who smiled at me, my panties would be soaked.

But I’d seen fine many times over, and this man wasn’t anything different. He was just a man who had a long list of requirements to suck the fun out of life.

His mouth quirked into a smirk, showing off just how arrogant he was. I blinked a few times before turning in the opposite direction to grab his chilled Fiji water. Then I placed it on the table in front of him on a coaster.

“My name is Khaleya. If I can get you anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask me.”

I didn’t wait for him to reply. The way that man was looking at me, like he was hungry and I was the best thing on the menu, was making me nervous. Shit, and I never got nervous. That was one of my superpowers.

At least it was.

I made my way toward the cockpit to check in with the pilots and also give myself some room to breathe. I’d never had anyone come on this flight and get me off my square. I needed to stick to the Premier Wings motto: Poise over Pressure.

I released a breath, put on my softest smile, and straightened my shoulders. I was going to fake it until I made it. I needed to act like this man hadn’t made me forget how my knees worked.

I tapped the side of the wood frame.

“You okay up here? Can I get you anything before wheels are up?” I asked.

Frachesca and Martin turned to give me their undivided attention.

“We’re good. But you can make sure everyone has on those seatbelts and get into your things. We will be wheels up in the next ten minutes.”

I nodded and turned to face that fine man once more.