Page 50 of Sticky Fingers
Chapter Sixteen
Sonia
“The airport?”I ask as I see a plane descending to the ground as Malcolm’s car drives down the freeway.
“Actually, for all intents and purposes, it’s a private airfield,” Malcolm says as the limo rolls through the clearance area of the private airport.
Hangar decks fills the place, their rooftops gleaming under the orange brushstrokes of the setting sun, and a small fleet of private jets is lined up at the tarmac.
“You need a six-million-dollar private jet to get in here.”
“Where are we going?” I ask him for the what has to be the hundredth time, looking out the window and trying to guess which of these jets belong to Malcolm.
“I thought you liked fun and adventure,” he says, laughing, “so I was thinking I’d make it a surprise.”
“A surprise, huh?” I laugh back, turning around on the leather seat to face him. “I do like surprises.”
As I say it, a thought pops into my mind—I know exactly how to make whatever Malcolm has planned more interesting.
Plus, it might help put to rest this nagging question in my head.
What question, you ask?
Oh, babe, the only question that’s been circling ever since Malcolm told me to get in his car.
Does he really care about me?
Or is this all about the painting?
As the limo finally halts to a stop, I jump out and stretch my back. “Mind if I make a call? If we’re traveling, I need my assistant to bring me some stuff,” I say, never taking my eyes off his.
Against the setting sun, he casts an imposing figure. He’s still wearing his tailored suit, although he has left the jacket in the car, and the shirt sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows.
You know when people say someone looks like a million bucks? Well, Malcolm looks like a billion dollars.
Although, I’ll admit it...I prefer him when he’s naked.
“We can buy whatever you need when we get there,” he tells me with a shrug, already turning his back to me and moving toward one of the planes.
“Not really. What I need isreallyimportant,” I insist, and he stops to look at me questioningly.
As I don’t say a word more, he merely shrugs.
“Fine, sure.”
Twenty-minutes later, Kathy rolls into the airport in her silver Mercedes. She stops right next to the limo; her reading glasses have been replaced by sunglasses, which she always uses to drive, and she has her hair tied in a bun. As she jumps out of the car, I immediately notice a concerned expression on her face.
Typical Kathy.
“Sorry I took so long!” she says, waving at me to get closer.
For two heartbeats, she eyes Malcolm suspiciously, but then turns her attention back to me.
“Are you sure this is fine?” She lowers her voice into a barely audible whisper, discreetly pointing at Malcolm. “Are you really going to let him fly you up to God knows where?”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“God, you’re impossible,” she says with a sigh, shaking her head.
