Page 170 of Twisted Knight

“Yes. Sure.” I rise from my chair and look around as if I’m not sure what to bring. Within seconds I have my purse and my phone in hand, head down the elevator, and get into the waiting car.

Curious but not overly distracted by Holden’s request, I get lost in answering emails on my phone during the drive. My immediate assumption is that I’m being driven out to meet him at one of the properties he had me researching.

I’d provided a long list. He most likely has narrowed it down and wants my opinion. I don’t know why that makes me feel good, but it does.

The assumption is logical enough, but when the car jostles over something and I look up, I’m more than confused.

Why are we at an airport?

Moreover, why are we not just at the airport, but on the tarmac?

What is going on here?

I immediately sit up straighter, my head on a swivel as I look around before landing on the jet we’re headed for. It has a matte black exterior, a “KH” logo on the tail that I know stands for Knight Holdings, and a black carpet rolled out beneath a set of airstairs leading up to the open door.

The Rothschilds have always had wealth. We’ve never done without. We have a huge trust of old family money. Hell, Gran has thirty million sitting somewhere for me alone. So we’re not poor by any means … but a private jet? And not just one to rent for a trip but one that he owns? That’s a whole other level of wealth that I don’t think I fully wrapped my head around Holden having until right this moment.

“Here we are, Miss Rothschild,” the driver states as he pulls up to the edge of the carpet.

If the logo weren’t on the plane, then I’d be questioning if we were in the right place. But it is.

“Thank you,” I murmur as I exit the car, nerves suddenly bouncing around inside of me for some odd reason.

Maybe because we’re always on my turf and for the first time in whatever this is, we are 100 percent on his.

I take the stairs up to the plane and stick my head in the cabin as if I’m afraid of what I’ll find. But that fear is erased instantly when I see Holden sitting at a table on the right side of the plane. His laptop is out, his cell is to his ear, and he’s having an animated conversation with whoever is on the other end of the line.

He sees me when I walk in and his face lights up in a way that affects me way more than it should. He waves to me to come in with his free hand.

“Yeah. I get it. But the offer remains off the table. I said to let them stew, so let them stew. Antsy sellers are the best kind.” He nods even though the person can’t see him. “I have a feeling this owner is a bit more eager than most. Mmm-hmm. I know. But getting fucked over is part of doing business sometimes. Great if you see it coming. It sucks if you don’t.” He shrugs, his eyes still on me. “No skin off my back. Yeah. I know. Okay. We’ll talk later, but for now, don’t respond to the agent. Say I’m busy. Yep. Got it. Later.”

He gives a nod as he ends the call and tosses his cell on the table in front of him with a clatter. “Sunshine,” he says, rising from his seat.

“Hi.” I look around and smile at the two flight attendants in the back who are eyeing me subtly while pretending to keep themselves busy.

What are they thinking? Is this normal for Holden to invite women on his jet, or is this new to them?

I’d like to think it’s a rarity but I’m not that naive.

I take a polite step to the right of Holden, turning my face so the kiss he plants hits my cheek to let him know we are being watched.

His laugh is bombastic as he grabs my face and kisses me directly on the lips. I freeze. “I can’t kiss you on my private jet, but you’ll suck my dick in the server room?” he murmurs quietly against my lips. “You can do better than that, Row.” He brushes a lock of hair off my forehead as he studies me. “Besides, they are all bound by strict confidentiality agreements. They won’t break them. I make sure of it. The consequences are too dire.”

“So you do things on your jet often enough that you need confidentiality agreements?” I ask.

“Business deals. Meetings. Private conversations. If that’s what you’re talking about, then yes,” he taunts, almost as if he can see my mind spinning tales of him having sordid sex with someone at thirty thousand feet. “But I have a feeling you’re asking something entirely different.”

“Perhaps,” I whisper.

“Don’t let your imagination run too wild, Sunshine. Save some of that wild for me.” And this time when he goes in for the kiss, I don’t fight his tender brush of lips against mine. I don’t dodge the quick delve of his tongue to touch mine. He emits a soft groan that has my body reacting viscerally. His fingers loosen on my chin as our lips meet softly again. “Promise?”

I nod. “Promise,” I whisper.

When he takes a step back, there is a wickedly mischievous glint to his eyes and widening of his grin.

“What?” I ask, surprised over the shift from sweet and soft to suddenly mysterious.

“Nothing.” He lifts his brows and points to the seat across from his as he sits. “Take a seat. If we want to stay on schedule, we need to get taxiing.”