Page 18 of Cupid's Beau

The flight crew announces takeoff, and as we speed up on the runway, Jack’s hand stays firmly on mine. The small cabin means we’re close enough that I catch every subtle shift in hisexpression. Notice how his jaw clenches when his phone buzzes again on the armrest.

“Two hours to New York,” he says as we level off. “Try to rest, okay?”

But rest seems impossible with him this close, with the memory of his kisses still fresh, with his hand covering mine. I’m acutely aware of his presence - the subtle rise and fall of his broad chest, the heat of his thick thigh against mine, how even the simple act of him checking his messages draws my attention to hi big, sexy hands.

Jack catches me watching him and something flashes in his eyes - heat, need, frustration, I’m not sure. But it makes my heart race.

“You should rest too,” I tell him.

“Can’t.” His voice is rough. “Too much to figure out.”

“Like what?”

“Like how to keep the press away from my building. They’ll be waiting.” He sighs heavily. “Sandra’s handling security,” he adds, running a hand through his hair. “We’ll go straight to the garage, ride the private elevator up.”

“Sounds very James Bond-y,” I joke, nudging him with my shoulder.

He chuckles. “Sounds like a pain in the ass.” His expression softens when he looks at me. “Sorry, you have to deal with all this mess.”

“Not your fault someone was creeping through our windows.”

“Still.” He shifts in his seat, and I try not to focus on how the movement brings him even closer. “It’s a lot.”

The rest of the flight passes in charged silence. When we begin our descent into New York, the city sprawls below us in the late afternoon light. Jack’s on his phone, speaking quietly with who I assume is his security team.

I try not to think about what happens when we land. About sharing his space, navigating this strange new reality where we’re supposed to be dating.

When my phone rings with Malik’s name, Jack’s attention snaps to me.

“They’re at my apartment,” I tell him after I hang up. “Camping out in the lobby.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, then his own phone buzzes. The muscle in his jaw ticks as he reads the message. “My place is bad, too. Whole street’s blocked.”

“So, what do we do?”

He’s quiet for a beat, like he’s debating something. Then: “I have a house. Up the coast. Private, secure. No one knows about it, except my sister.” He watches my reaction carefully. “It’s miles from anywhere. We could lie low there until this dies down. Unless you’d rather-”

“No, that…” I try to ignore how my pulse jumps at the thought of being truly alone with him. “That sounds smart.”

His hand is still on mine, and I feel his grip tighten.

“It’s actually…” He pauses, then adds, “it’s on a private island.”

“An island?” I know my eyes must be as big as saucers.

Instead of elaborating, Jack calls the flight attendant, then speaks quietly with her. The pilot announces we’re changing course, and I feel the plane change directions.

Jack settles back in his seat, his hand back on mine, but he says nothing else about our destination. The silence stretches between us, filled with unspoken questions and the lingering heat from this morning’s kisses.

Through the window, I watch the coastline, wondering what exactly I’ve agreed to. A private island. Alone with Jack Ellis.

My phone buzzes with a text from my mother: Be safe, sweetheart. Call when you can.

I type back a quick response, aware of Jack’s warmth next to me, the steady pressure of his hand on mine.

* * *

“Oh, My God.”

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