Page 109 of Built to Fall
As I get closer to the runway, I see four large men in fully black suits. Grant politely nods at them before turning to glance at me.
Does he seriously have fucking bodyguards?
“Are we going somewhere in this?” It’s a stupid question.
“No, we’re just going to sit inside, maybe have a nice brunch.” The sarcasm is dripping from his voice as we approach the steps of the aircraft.
Then Grant steps to the side of me, motioning for me to go up the steps before him. “Ladies first.”
He holds out his hand, and I take it with a nervous laugh. I carefully take each step, praying to God that I don’t trip. When I take the last step, I realize that I’m standing in the aisle of aprivate jet. Specifically,Grant Vandenberg’s private jet.
Grant’s hand lands on my shoulder from behind. “Welcome to your first private jet ride, pretty girl.”
“Wow” is all I can manage.
I cannot believe what I’m seeing. These types of luxuries feel reserved for people in movies. I knew that they existed in real life, but I did not think that seemingly regular people just had a private jet in their possession.
Then I think back to what Grant said earlier when we were standing in the guest bedroom of my aunt’s house. “I have a private jet at my disposal.”
I look back at him. He’s grinning at my reaction. “Is this yours?”
“One of them.”
“Funny.”
“I’m not kidding.” He sits in one of the seats, crossing one leg over the other and pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“Why the hell would someone needmore than one private jet?” I also sit, taking one of the seats across from Grant, putting a table between us.
“Don’t ask me. They’re technically my dad’s.”
Grant stands from his seat, approaches where I’m sitting, bends down, and reaches for something beside me. I’m confused for a moment, but then the seatbelt gets pulled over my lap. He buckles it like he had done in the car before returning to his own seat.
“God, it’s like that one scene inFifty Shades of Greywhen Christian buckles Ana into the helicopter,” I joke, before the realization of what I said hits me like a ton of bricks.
Grant looks amused, chuckling to himself as he fastens his own seatbelt. “Fifty Shades of Grey,huh?”
“That’s not what I meant.” I try to recover quickly, but Grant is still laughing.
Great. Now Grant thinks I relate him to Christian fucking Grey.
He continues to tease me though, “I’ve always wondered what you do in your free time. Are all the documentaries you watch just a cover-up?”
“I’ve seen the moviesonce.” I try to sound convincing.
“I’m sureee,” he drags, a tell-tale sign that he doesn’t believe me. “And here you are comparing me to Christian Grey.”
“I’m notcomparingyou to a BDSM-loving billionaire.” I snap defensively, even though I walked right into it.
Grant raises an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Didn’t say that’s what youthoughtof me. Just interesting where your mind went, is all.”
He says it casually, but there’s an edge behind his grin—like he’s clocking me for more than the accidental comment.
I cross my arms, trying to play it cool. “It was a joke.”
“You sure about that?” he asks, looking far too pleased with himself. “Because I wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t.”
My entire body feels magnetized toward him. I’ve read about magnetic fields—how they can’t be seen, only felt.
