Page 41 of His Little Secret in Discretion
By the time we finally tore ourselves from bed and into the shower, I was half-convinced he’d keep me there for another hour if we didn’t have a flight to catch.
Soon enough, I was curled up in the back of Blaine’sprivatecar, heading for hisprivatejet. Just saying those words made me giddy…and, honestly, made my “private” feel spoiled too.
Despite my lack of sleep, I buzzed with excitement, like a kid in a candy store. For once, I was free to be spoiled without paying for it later. Free to be my materialistic self without worrying about my uncle or the bills piling up. Not when my sugar daddy had everything under control.
Blaine scrolled through his phone beside me, his other hand possessively gliding up and down my inner thigh. My gaze flicked to the name on his screen, the one he’d been hovering over for minutes.
“Who’s Calvin?” I asked.
Blaine sighed, dragging a hand down his face before shaking his head. “He’s a fucking idiot.”
“Okay… and besides that?” I asked with a giggle before he slid his phone into his pocket and turned to give me his full attention.
“He’s the reason we’re going to London so early. He’s basically the bane of Killian’s existence, which, by default, makes him my problem too. Instead of running his own company, he spends half his time sticking his nose into everyone else’s business… more than I usually do.”
I nodded, biting my lip as he leaned over to kiss me.
“He’s also someone I need to hide you from,” he mumbled against my lips. “He could jeopardize our entire mission impossible to keep you my little secret.”
“You sure little Delilah isn’t going to do it first?” I giggled.
“Never going to live this down, am I?” he groaned.
“You’re the one who trusted a four-year-old.”
“Almost five…” he muttered childishly, and I broke into laughter as he shot me a mock glare.
Hearing that Delilah had practically shaken Blaine down to keep our secret was pure icing on the cake. I would’ve told Brielle myself, but with Killian already less than thrilled about me and Blaine, keeping quiet seemed smarter.
Eventually, we boarded his private jet. Instead of giving in to the sleep my body begged for, I wandered through the cabin. The jet was all plush leather and polished wood, the kind of luxury that felt surreal. Blaine lounged on one of the sofas, shirt undone at the top, whiskey glass in hand, looking as calm and collected as ever.
As I fiddled with the sleeves of my fitted jacket, the stewardess smiled politely. “Would you like me to prepare something for you, ma’am?”
I bit my lip, aware of Blaine’s eyes fixed on me as he took a slow sip of his drink.
“No, I’m fine, thank you.”
She nodded before she disappeared toward the kitchen, or rather the galley.
Blaine leaned back, lifted his hand, and crooked two fingers at me. His eyes had gone darker, heavier. My face flamed as I crossed the cabin toward him.
I was used to his charismatic, playful demeanor. But this—this tired, oddly seductive look—was different. He patted his thigh like an invitation I couldn’t refuse.
Don’t mind if I do.
Sliding onto his lap, I tucked a stray curl behind my ear as his hand drifted over my hip. “I did some digging… the other day,” he murmured.
My head tilted, curious.
“And unfortunately, your bank account seems to be missing the third deposit of fifty grand I made a few days ago.”
My stomach tightened. His gaze held me, waiting. And all I could think was: what the hell happened to the fun, quirky billionaire who worried more about his next meal than his sugar baby’s bank balance?
It was too easy to forget sometimes that this man was powerful. That his resources reached far beyond a secretary who doubled as his babysitter. He knew about my so-called bills. What I prayed he hadn’t uncovered was the truth—that my uncle was in rehab and I’d been blacklisted because I’d slept with his loan shark.
His finger slid under my chin, tilting my face toward his. I swallowed hard. “That’s… a bit invasive of one’s privacy, don’t you think?”
“I think you and I both know, Sunshine,” he muttered, his other hand gliding higher on my thigh, “that I don’t mind getting a bit invasive.”
