Page 17 of Cupid's Beau

Jack takes my suitcase and leads the way through the back door. A sleek black car idles in the alley, the driver already loading his bag.

As we slide into the backseat, I catch one last glimpse of my parents in the doorway. Then we’re moving, leaving Starlight Bay behind.

Jack stares straight ahead, his profile carved from stone. His hand rests on the seat between us, and I wonder if he’s thinking about the same thing I am - how everything can change so fast.

The driver takes back roads to avoid the press. Jack’s phone keeps buzzing with messages he ignores, his frustration clear in the set of his shoulders.

“You okay?” I ask softly.

He turns from the window, his expression softening when he meets my eyes. “I should be asking you that.”

“I’m fine. Just…” I gesture at his still-buzzing phone. “Seems like a lot.”

“They’ll get bored, eventually. Find someone else to harass.” Hisvoice is bitter, but then he adds more gently, “I’m sorry they dragged you into this.”

“Pretty sure I dragged myself into it when I danced with you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “No regrets?”

“About the dancing?” I hold his gaze. “None.”

He reaches for my hand, intertwining our fingers. We sit like that for the rest of the drive, his thumb occasionally brushing over my knuckles, both of us lost in thought about what comes next.

The airfield appears through the trees, a small private hangar set back from the road. A sleek jet waits on the tarmac, its engines already humming.

“Ready?” Jack asks quietly, still holding my hand.

I stare up at the plane. “This is surreal.”

His eyes are intense when I look at him, focused entirely on me, and my breath catches at the heat there.

“Having second thoughts?” he asks.

“About fake dating a movie star?” I squeeze his hand. “Surprisingly, no.”

That gets me a laugh - brief but genuine. Then his phone buzzes again and his expression darkens.

“Ignore it,” I tell him.

“Trying to.” He helps me out of the car, his hand settling on mylower back as we walk to the plane. “But they’re going to make this… complicated.”

“More complicated than it already is?”

His thumb strokes small circles against my spine. “Much more.”

The cabin is all cream leather and polished wood. Jack guides me to a seat, and I catch another whiff of his cologne as he leans over to help with my seatbelt. This close, I notice the slight silver at his temples, the way his lashes cast shadows on his high cheekbones. His fingers brush my hip as he straightens up, and my breath hitches.

“All set?” His voice is low, intimate in the quiet cabin.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He takes the seat next to me, his muscular thigh pressing against mine in the narrow space. It’s impossible not to be aware of him - his height, his heat, the controlled power in every movement.

The engines rev up, and I grip the armrest. His hand covers mine immediately, his long fingers enveloping my own.

“Not a fan of takeoffs?”

“Not usually flying private,” I admit.

He smirks - and God, that expression should be illegal. His ocean blue eyes, that jawline. His thumb traces circles on my palm, and suddenly I’m not thinking about the plane at all.

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