Page 51 of A King’s Obsession

Her eyebrows lifted, and she turned toward me. “Why?”

“Because every time you get around me, I smell that shit,” I told her, watching the little change in her expression.

A small smile touched her mouth. “You don't like it?”

I looked at her before pulling away from the curb. “I ain't say that.”

“Then why you worried about what it is?” she asked, looking entirely too amused with herself.

I glanced at her again. “Just answer the question, Jru.”

She laughed softly, settling back into her seat. “No.”

I shook my head and pulled into traffic.

Smart-ass.

But she smelled good as fuck.

Jru didn't realize where I was taking her until we turned toward private aviation. Her eyes followed the road, taking in the smaller terminal and the jets lined along the tarmac.

By the time I parked, she was staring through the windshield.

“We flying private?” she asked, turning toward me like she needed to hear me confirm what she was looking at.

“Yeah,” I answered, reaching for my door.

She looked at the jet, then back at me, a little smile spreading across her face. “Okay, Mr. Billionaire Airlines.”

A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.

Jru looked over at me, clearly pleased with herself.

“What?” I asked, noticing the way she was watching me.

“Nothing. You just barely smile, and now you laughing.”

“You funny sometimes,” I admitted, shaking my head.

“Sometimes?” she repeated, her eyebrows lifting.

I got out before she could start. “Don't push it.”

She followed me toward the terminal, and I could still hear her mumbling underneath her breath.

Twenty minutes after takeoff, Jru had a tablet in her hands.

That surprised me more than her reaction to the jet.

Breakfast had been set out before we boarded, but after eating, she hadn't stretched out or spent the flight staring through the window. She'd gone straight to work.

I had my laptop open across from her, going through the financials Yara had sent when Jru shifted forward in her seat.

“Which property are we seeing first?” she asked, looking up from the tablet.

“The Brickell property,” I answered, returning my attention to the numbers.

She opened the itinerary and scrolled. “How big is it?”