Page 117 of Poison Aches

“And be caught for breaking all sorts of cyber laws? No way, Angel,” he denies easily. “Despite your knowledge of me, I do my best to avoid unnecessary troubles.”

That’s true. If nothing else, Emmett avoids anything that likens him to mere humans… torturous labor.

“Then how?” I demand.

Emmett looks at me this time, his inquisitive gaze set on my face so decisively that I don’t have a prayer of escaping.

I wasn’t expecting to see him on this flight but I sure as hell wasn’t expecting him to somehow know my secret…

“You want to know how?” he questions, as if it’s a dare and I should watch myself.

But by now, I’m feeling desperate, horrible, as if my entire life is now hanging on by a precarious, rotting thread that I can’t help but fall into the trap.

“Yes, how the hell did you get into my account if hacking is so beneath you?” I snap.

He isn’t moved at all by my emotions. Never has.

“Pandora.”

That one word almost makes me reel back.

I do my best to stay still and control my facial expressions.

I have a few regrets in my life and the biggest one, big enough to compete neck and neck with the day Gramps died, is the fact that I wore my heart on my sleeve and this jerk knew it.

He was aware I had feelings for him.

He was aware that I practically waited my whole life for him.

And he’s made it painfully clear that it’s never going to happen.

But now, in this moment, hearing him say that one word almost flings me back to a time where I was just a girl, pressing my ear against a boy’s chest to listen to the sound of his messed-up heart.

“After all these years, Angel?—”

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I quickly mutter, cutting him off.

He doesn’t say anything to that. He just watches me.

I stare right back, trying to think, trying to breathe, trying to move on from this asshole who broke my heart when it wasn’t even his to break.

“Have you been stalking me?” I demand.

“Why do you think I’ve been stalking you?”

“Because that’s something you would do.”

“What do I do?” he asks as if genuinely curious to know.

“You do this,” I say gesturing at the empty cabin. “Did you buy out all the seats in this lounge?”

“No,” he denies smoothly. “I bought out the entire plane.”

My jaw drops to the floor.

“You did what?”

“I charted the flight,” he shrugs, watching me with a frown as if he’s confused by my shock. As if us being the only two passengers on this flight is a common occurrence! WTF!

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