Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 57878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 289(@200wpm)___ 232(@250wpm)___ 193(@300wpm)
It was him who came to his senses before I did. He took hold of my wrists and gathered his breaths and there was at least some kind of rationality in his eyes this time as he stared at me through his glasses.
I tried to gather my own.
“I’m Penelope Jackson,” I reminded myself. “I have to be Penelope Jackson from here on.”
“You’ll never be Penelope Jackson to me,” he said, and there was a whole fresh burst of fire in his eyes. “You’re Elaine Constantine and I love you for it.”
With that he opened the bathroom door just a crack to check the aisle.
“Just a few more hours to go, princess,” he whispered, and then he was gone.
14
Lucian
The UK was five hours ahead of NYC. My senses were fried when the plane began the descent—the day already marching on ahead outside. My interior clock was a mess, but I still managed to keep my thoughts together and my mind on high alert. I had to. We still had a long fucking way to go.
People were already bustling into action when the plane touched down onto the runway. The thank you for traveling with Jettison Air recordings were lost in the thrum as everyone went full throttle into gathering their things together. I stayed still. Quiet in the chaos. Waiting, poised.
My eyes were all on the woman a few rows ahead of me, getting to her feet with a smile at the couple who’d been sitting next to her.
I let the two guys to the side of me out into the aisle and held back even more, pretending to be busy with my briefcase as Elaine joined the line to get off the plane. I was one of the last people to step past the attendants with a smile and a thank you, and once again there was no flag as to my identity, they just let me right on by with a wave and a you’re welcome.
London Heathrow felt so much different to JFK. I’d been before, and there was always some kind of cultural overtone to it but it felt more pronounced somehow. Maybe that’s what happens when you are effectively emigrating. You get a whole load more sensitivity to the new world around you.
Elaine was ahead in the line far enough that she was out of my view, but I caught sight of her again once we got to the baggage collection. She was on the other side of the conveyor to me, and jumped into action when her friend’s battered old suitcase came out for collection. I gave her the slightest nod as her eyes met mine and she moved along to passport control.
My suitcases were some of the last to appear which again felt damn weird considering I usually had people jumping to attention everywhere I went, clicking my fingers and having my wishes delivered in a flash. That just confirmed again what I already knew. Being Lucian Morelli with an empire around me was very, very suited to my nature. Even carrying my own luggage through to that damn check-in felt like a fucking drag.
Elaine was already through and out the other side when I pushed those dumb glasses up my nose and stepped up to the counter.
I was steady. Composed. Confident. They let me through without a challenge, and then I was there. Done. We were through border control into a whole new country and a whole new life set for the taking. I felt a sense of relief I’d never felt before. It consumed every breath. Hell. Fucking. Yes.
There she was in the main terminal, waiting for me with that battered suitcase resting against her legs, her eyes alive with a clear sense of relief that mirrored mine.
Her arms slung around my neck when I reached her.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she breathed, clearly gushing it out. “I’ve been waiting to say it for hours. Just because I can. Just because I want to. And I can, now! I can say it!”
Fuck, how it made me smile.
“I love you too, baby,” I whispered to her. “Believe me, you’ll be knowing it soon enough. I’ll be showing you how much I love every single little part of you. Inside and out.”
Only that wasn’t for now. Now I was absolutely fucking exhausted.
People were all around us, but they weren’t really looking. We got a baggage cart and walked along, blending right into the masses. Her eyes were darting everywhere as we made it through the main terminal, her enthusiasm palpable. I had to dig through one of my bags to find a bank card associated with one of my other IDs and use that in the cash machine for some British sterling, and she was still wide-eyed at the people and the accents passing by.