Page 13 of Catching a Con Man

“How do you feel about coming with me to a meeting abroad?” I asked.

“But I need to tell you…” Tyler started. And I did the one thing I knew would stop him. I kissed him. For a second, Tyler froze against my lips. And then his were moving against mine, so soft and warm and…God, he really was beautiful.

I pulled away from the kiss reluctantly. “I know we need to talk,” I whispered. “But let’s talk somewhere away from here. Somewhere beautiful, somewhere we can be completely ourselves.”

“I don’t know if you’ll like me when I’ve spoken to you,” Tyler said.

“I know I will. I promise.”

Against my better judgement, I knew I was right. Whatever Tyler Bevan was, I liked it, and wanted more of it. And I wanted rid of the layers of lies between us. And that scared me to death.

Tyler

Ade knew…something. That much was obvious. And though the thought of him finding out or knowing what I’d done or who I was should terrify me, it was actually a little bit refreshing. If he unmasked Tyler Quinn, revealed the poor little man underneath, maybe he’d have the sense to drop me. And much as that would hurt, it would be preferable to continuing to lie to him. It’s why I’d stopped texting him and dropped the proposal. I was hoping that I was one of thousands of people he’d seen about business ideas recently. I hoped I was just another face in the crowd, and that he wouldn’t come running after me with a glass slipper.

But I was in the passenger seat of Ade’s gorgeous car, on our way to God-knows-where, and he kept throwing shaky smiles my way. We both knew that a fundamental shift was coming. But we could both pretend for another minute. We were outside of Cardiff now, driving along a B-road in the middle of nowhere. Maybe he’d kill me and dump my body, and get away with it because he was so rich. Much as I’d hate that because of the wholebeing deadthing, it would be very satisfying to know I was right about billionaires being psychopaths after all.

Ade turned off the road into what looked like just a field with a couple of warehouses and a long strip of tarmac. “Welcome to my secret base. My Batcave, but queerer,” said Ade with a smile as he pulled the car up to one of the big warehouses. “This is where we keep the real secret stuff. But what I’m about to show you is the next big thing.”

We got out of the car as the warehouse seemed to split in two. And I realised it wasn’t a warehouse, but ahangar. A hangar for a gorgeous, sleek private jet, painted the same gunmetal grey as the car. It had jet engines on the wings, but those wings swooped back dramatically in a way I’d never seen before. The nose of the plane was coned and angled like Concorde.

I caught myself wolf-whistling at the beauty of it and stopped myself. “Nope,” I said with more conviction and confidence than I actually had, “I’m anti-private jet. You should know the emissions they cause…”

Ade laughed. “Don’t you know me at all yet? Come on.”

For the first time I realised that the whole hangar was a hive of activity, with about a dozen or so people in white boiler suits milling around the plane and other aircraft. Right at the very back was something that looked like it rivalled Air Force One in size. “I’ve called my pilot,” said Ade, “he should be here in the next five minutes. Come on, let me convince you to fly private.”

He led me up steps into the plane, and I felt my resolve start to crumble. It was as beautiful on the inside as on the outside. There were ten wide seats and a small love seat inside, all brown leather, and a small bar stocked with drinks in one corner. At the rear end of the plane there was a huge screen that took up one wall. Ade grabbed my hand, seemingly without thinking, and led me past a small toilet and shower room, all the way to the cockpit.

There were screens lit up and two control sticks, as well as hundreds of buttons. “See?” Ade said.

“I’ve never flown a plane before, so no, I don’t see,” I retorted.

Ade pointed at one of the instrument clusters. “What’s that?” he asked me. I leaned in to see.

“A fuel gauge?” I guessed.

Ade nodded and then placed one hand on the small of my back to rotate me to another screen. “And that?”

“That’s…is that a battery level?” I asked.

“Yup. We’re working onhybridflight technology,” said Ade. “No one can know until I’ve applied for the patents, because the gas companies will pitch a fit. But we’ve been able to reduce the need for petrol to just take off. Then the fuel tank acts as a backup in case electric power runs too low.”

“Wow,” I whistled.

“So. Let’s fly.”

And there lay the snag. “Where?”

“The Alps?” Ade suggested.

There had been a time where I’d dreamed of visiting the Alps one day. I had seen videos of people skiing when I was at school and always wondered if by some miracle one set of foster parents might decide to take me someday. But they never had. “I don’t have a passport,” I admitted, peeling back the first layer of my disguise.

“Where we’re going, we don’t need passports,” Ade snaked an arm around my chest. “You wouldn’t believe what being filthy stinking rich does for your legal responsibilities.”

“I…I…I can’t,” I said. “Seriously. This is all…too much. I really need to tell you.”

Ade placed a finger on my lips to stop me talking, though I was really wishing he’d just kiss me again. That had been a particularly effective method at stopping me from rambling before, why not now?

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