Chapter 28

NICOLETTE

Mr. Andretti’s private jet was as fancy as I expected it to be. If I hadn’t been riding in it with someone who made me uncomfortable, I could have enjoyed it more.

Or even if there were more people on board. But besides the pilot, copilot, and two flight attendants, it was only me, him, and his assistant, a no-nonsense woman named Katrina.

After a quick tour of the seating area, the “living room” area with a sofa and TV, the dining area, the galley, the lavatory, and the bedroom at the back, we three sat in the forward seating area.

I leaned back in the plush reclining chair and read the next two days’ itinerary that Katrina had given me when she’d picked me up from my building this morning.

We would be staying in a five-star hotel, me and Mr. Andretti in the two penthouse suites on the top floor and Katrina in a room on the floor below. This screamed red flag to me.

I glanced over at him and decided I’d ask Katrina to stay in my suite with me. I looked over at her and smiled. I’d liked Katrina right away, and I knew we’d get along.

She was in her fifties, which did give a few bonus points to Mr. Andretti, but she had spunk and a love for life. She was as easy to smile as she was to demand to speak to a manager.

Right now she was fully reclined in the seat next to me, a blanket over her body and mask over her eyes. Headphones playing whale noises to help her sleep. And she was snoring.

For the next few hours, I occupied myself with all my electronic devices until I couldn’t look at a screen anymore. Then, I switched to my sketch pad.

I was sketching Katrina when I felt his eyes burning into me. I lowered my pad onto my lap and turned to him.

He was looking right at me. “I was worried about you, you know.”

I gave him a firm but polite smile. “Thank you, but you really didn’t need to be.” I got the job already, no need to kiss his feet. “I’m good. My mom’s good. Everything’s good.”

I smiled again and picked up the pad. I turned back to Katrina, but he was still staring. And I wasn’t having it anymore.

“I’m sorry,” I said, lowering the pad and spinning back to face him, “but have we met somewhere before? Because the way you ~keep~ staring at me makes me feel like you think you know me.”

He blinked and came back to the moment, lost for words momentarily because people didn’t normally talk to him this way. I bet.

“I’m sorry. Was I staring? I zone out sometimes.” He shook his head and smiled weakly.

And he did look embarrassed, which made me embarrassed. So I apologized and decided to try out some small talk.

“So where are you from, Mr. Andretti?”

“Please, just call me Ira.” He poured himself a small glass of dark liquor from the minibar and offered me some. When I shook my head, he continued. “And I’m from all around.”

I asked him what he meant.

“I’ve moved a lot. From one place to the next and to the next. In short, I’m from a faraway land.” There was a glint in his eye as he took a sip.

And my stomach knotted. It was enough to tell me that my earlier suspicions were true. That he was from Lucien’s world. And now I suspected he knew that I knew.

“And how about you, Ms. Holland—or may I call you Nicolette?” he asked.

“You may, and I’m from Ohio.” I didn’t really need to answer because he was only asking out of courtesy. I knew he’d already done extensive research on me.

~“When one’s a multibillionaire” and all~, I thought, and my mind rolled its eyes.

“Has anyone ever told you that you don’t look like a Nicolette?”

This was an intriguing question, and I told him no one had. I asked him what name I looked like.

“Your name should be more exotic. Ameena.” He nodded once, resolute in his choice. It wasn’t a name chosen from nowhere.

“Oh? And who was she to you? An ex?” I hit the nail on the head.

He frowned slightly, upset that I took away his fun. “She was a woman I was in love with a long time ago.” He took a gulp from his glass. “But she wasn’t my ex. We never got to be together.”

His eyes grew dark, and I had to tread carefully. I had to try to lighten the mood.

“I mean, it’s a beautiful name. And we all have long-lost love, right?” I gave him my most genuine-looking smile.

It seemed to do the trick. He released a light-hearted chuckle and sat back in his chair, rocking a bit as he looked out the window.

“Yeah, I suppose we all do,” he said. “Anyway, she chose her mission over me. So what can I do, right?” He looked at me, and his gaze lingered.

I glanced back down at my pad and he said something, but his voice was barely higher than a whisper. I looked up to ask, but he was rising from his seat.

“We have”—he looked at his watch and swayed slightly—“just under six hours until we arrive in Brazil. I will get some sleep now, and I suggest you do as well.”

I nodded and watched him go. Then I put my sketch pad back in my bag and laid the chair flat.

Blanket tucked to my chin, I replayed the words I thought he said.

~“Just promise me you won’t make the same mistake again.”~

What the hell did that mean?