Page 9 of Terms of the Flight

I opened my eyes to see a green-eyed woman with red hair and a warm smile. She was holding the door open, waiting for me to respond. I cleared my throat and dropped my hands to my sides.

“I know I look crazy as hell standing out here. I’m Khaleya Mathers. I have a meeting with a Mrs. Emeila Pittman. I hope I am saying her name right.”

I held out my hand for her to shake, which she quickly shook with a smile.

“You said her name perfectly fine. Allow me to lead you to the waiting room. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

I nodded and gave her a tight-lipped smile, then followed her inside. I wasn’t normally this damn nervous. It had to be because this was the next big step I needed to take my business to the next level.

I followed her to the elevators, and she led me on, then clicked the button for the third floor. We stood in a comfortable silence when the bell rang, letting us know the doors were opening. She stepped off first and led me to a waiting room that had a few couches across from the glass offices.

“Take a seat and I’ll let her know you’re here. Would you like some water?”

“No, I’m fine. That would only make this anxious feeling worse.”

She smiled and walked toward the offices across from where I was seated. My eyes easily tracked her movements to the mature woman with gray hair who smiled up at her. She was in the office with two men, one of whom I hadn’t noticed until he turned and looked in my direction.

My heart seemed to pick up its pace. It seemed like we saw each other at the same time. He ran his tongue across his lower lip, then winked in my direction.

“It’s just my luck he had to be this Blackwell. I should have chosen another fucking bank,” I said beneath my breath, then looked away.

Blackwell was a common last name. At least, that’s what I needed to tell myself to stay in my current state of delusion.What other Blackwell could afford a private jet with a fully staffed kitchen and all the amenities Premier Wings could offer?

I brought the palm of my hand to my forehead and leaned forward.

I stayed that way for a few minutes until I heard someone clear their throat. I didn’t move quickly—I knew who it was. The smell of his cologne hardened my nipples on command. I released a breath, then looked up at his smiling face. He was in cream slacks, a white button-down with a tie, and a jacket to match the slacks.

Everything was tailored to fit him.

“Ms. Khaleya, it’s nice seeing you again. I told you I’d get that pleasure at least one more time.”

I couldn’t hold back my smile even if I tried. I rolled my eyes and looked away briefly, only to look back and find him flashing that arrogant smirk I now connected with only him. The crazy thing was that I’d only been in his presence twice, but I guess that was more than enough.

“Just your luck, huh?” I asked.

He clasped his hands in front of him and chuckled, before licking his lower lip.

“Nah, I don’t believe in luck. I knew it would happen, and so did you. You just don’t want to admit it.”

I rolled my eyes. “If you say so, Mr. Blackwell. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a meeting I’m getting ready to go into. I don’t want to miss it. Big dreams and all. Some of us still have to make something of ourselves.”

He stuffed his hands into his slacks and nodded.

“I’m glad you mentioned your meeting. That’s with me. Will you follow me this way?” he said, gesturing toward the elevators.

My eyes widened as I looked around him toward the woman I thought I was supposed to be speaking with. There’s no way thisdamn man is qualified enough to tell me whether I deserved a loan or not. He couldn’t be.

I glanced back in his direction with wide eyes.

“Don’t be so shocked, Doll. Follow me—I have another meeting in forty minutes. I want you to get your entire time slot.”

I kept my mouth closed and stood to follow behind him. My mind seemed to run a mile a minute about how this meeting would go. I silently followed him down the hall until we reached the large office straight ahead.

He pulled open the door, and I stepped around him.

“Would you like a bottle of water?” he asked.

Mr. Blackwell walked around me toward the minibar on the opposite side of the room. I shook my head, forgetting his back was turned, but he caught the movement anyway, glancing over his shoulder in my direction with a lift of his brow.