Page 18 of Double Fault

“Thanks. We need to go. We’re late.”

With a nod, he steps back. “Have a safe flight.”

I enter the plane for what feels like the twentieth time today and hold the bag out to Sabrina. “Here.”

Dark brows scrunched, she says, “What’s this?”

“The stuff Stephen took from you. He had no legitimate reason to confiscate it. That’s why I fly private.”

She takes the bag from me, being careful not to touch my fingers. “Thank you.”

Fuck. Does she think I’ve got a communicable disease or something? Ignoring the slight niggle of irritation scratching at the back of my neck, I dip my chin and take the seat in front of her.

“Are you ready, sir?” Rachel inclines her head, attention fixed on me.

“Let’s go.” The sooner we get in the air, the sooner I can get out of this confined space and put some distance between myself and Sabrina. Her perfume, something warm and slightly floral, is already threatening to suffocate me.

“That was surprisingly nice of you,” Fisher comments as Rachel closes the door.

I bristle but play dumb. “What?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass.”

“Ass!” Maddie shouts. “Pay up.”

I turn around, ignoring Sabrina and looking solely at my daughter. “By saying the word yourself, you negated payment.”

The bane of my existence chuckles, garnering my attention despite my best efforts. It takes effort not to count the numberof freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose. She’s settled in already, having removed her hoodie. Her tight t-shirt and leggings emphasize her every damn curve, of course, and she’s even kicked off her shoes too.

“Aversion to shoes?”

“I’m not wearing sneakers for an almost twenty-hour flight.”

“Pity. Your feet stink.”

“Daddy!” Maddie giggle. “Her feet don’t stink.”

“It’s okay.” Sabrina pats her arms. “It’s actually his feet he’s smelling.” To me, she asks, “You give your kid money any time one of you curse around her?”

Before I can answer, my little girl nods vigorously. “Yes, they do. They’re big potty mouths.”

Sabrina’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “I can see why you need me.”

Though I rack my brain for a witty comeback, I come up empty, so I sink down into my seat and glower at her instead.

Looks like this is going to be the longest flight of my life.

From the silent shake of Fisher’s shoulders on the opposite side of the plane, he knows it too.

CHAPTER 6

SABRINA

Jet lag hitsme like a ton of bricks. It’s only eleven a.m. when we finally make it to the hotel, but to my body, it feels like it’s after midnight.

I can’t help but gawk at all the tennis players milling around the lobby. Some faces I recognize from my research, like Elias Johnson, the bad boy of tennis. His hair is cut close to his scalp, and his brow is furrowed over a pair of intense dark eyes.

A hand lands on my shoulder, startling me.

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