Page 82 of Seeking Vengeance

“I’ll get the luggage.” Bishop climbs from the driver’s seat, the engine idling as he lobs the fob at the young man who opened the gates.

All I can do is watch in silence while I force Cole’s voice from my mind.

“You’re nervous.” Matthew’s hand slides from mine. “Are you questioning my intentions again? You don’t have to accompany me, Layla. I can have you taken back to the penthouse.”

“I’m not questioning you.” My heart hurts at the disappointment in his features.

“You’re apprehensive.”

I could claim a fear of flying. Hell, it wouldn’t be difficult to make up any number of reasons to explain the devil on my shoulder.

Instead, I give him what he deserves. “I’ve told you my brother doesn’t appreciate my current secrecy. If he was aware I was about to jet set to places unknown with someone he’s unfamiliar with, he’d judge me harshly.”

Matthew’s jaw ticks. “It sounds like he judges you harshly regardless.”

I don’t deny it. I want him to understand that part of me. The part that may affect him the most. “He does.”

“He’s controlling,” he adds.

I don’t deny that either.

The trunk door opens and Bishop steals my focus as he removes not one but two suitcases from the cargo area. Of course the asshole is still coming with us.

“Do you want me to arrange a driver?” Matthew asks as the trunk door closes. “The last thing I want to do is—”

“No, I’m excited to go with you. I promise. I just hadn’t anticipated your meeting to be far enough away to require a plane.” I unclasp my belt and smile. “You’re not taking me to Paris, are you?”

He huffs a breath of lifeless laughter. “No. We’ll have to do that trip another day. And we’re not taking a plane either.”

I’m about to ask for clarification when he swings his door wide and escapes the car to round the hood.

I follow, climbing from the back seat as a loud mechanical whir fills the rustling fall breeze, the sound coming from the other side of the hangar to my left.

“We’re taking a helicopter?” I meet Matthew at the hood of the car but fall quiet, not wanting to interrupt the younger man who’s relaying departure and arrival details as the unmistakablewhoop,whoopfloods my ears, the rush of energy growing around us.

I bite my lip, struggling from the whiplash of flipping from apprehension to exhilaration.

“I hope you’re not scared of heights.” Matthew steps away from the chatter to wrap an arm around my waist.

“I’m not. But how far are we going?”

“Virginia Beach. Is that a problem?”

I wince, wishing I hadn’t shown my temporary slip of confidence in the car, the hesitation now gone as if it never existed. “I’m sorry.” My voice barely carries over the air chopping around us. “I…”

I’m not sure what to say. I can’t tell him I was brought up in a family who doesn’t believe in trust. Or relay the justifiable reasons for them being that way. He’d never understand and I wouldn’t want him to.

“You don’t have to explain.” He leads me toward the hangar, the wind growing more fierce the closer we get to the corner of the building.

Once we reach the edge, elation takes hold, sending blood rushing through my veins.

A sleek black metal bird sits yards away, the glossy paint gleaming in the sunlight. It’s beautiful. All polished curves and extravagant masculinity with the pilot under the propellers, standing in wait.

I’m breathless.

Speechless.

“It’s not too late to change your mind.” Matthew tightens his arm around me.

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