Page 37 of Release Me

She’s still staring at the back of the seat in front of her, not freaking out but not exactly looking relaxed either. As the engines power up and the plane begins barreling down the runway, I reach for her, not even thinking about it as I take her hand in mine.

Zoey turns to me, her eyes widening a little as I slowly brush my thumb against the inside of her wrist. “I’ve got you,” I whisper, offering her a small smile.

She doesn’t look away, her eyes locked with mine as the plane slowly starts to lift off. Her fingers tighten a little and I squeeze her hand, never stopping the movement of my thumb. As we finally start to level out, I watch as she takes a deep breath, slowly letting it out.

“Thank you,” she murmurs. “I’m okay, really.” She pulls her hand from mine, but I don’t let go, tightening my grip a little as I continue to brush my thumb against her wrist.

“You know it’s the safest way to travel, right?”

She smirks now, a little more relaxed as she says, “You know my brother says that to me every time.”

“Sorry,” I say, laughing a little. “Not helpful then?”

She quirks her lips, a brow raised. “Only something I’ve probably heard a hundred times before.”

“Well, it’s a short flight, but I’m happy to distract you if it helps.”

Zoey laughs now, shaking her head. “I’m okay, Ethan, but thank you. It’s just the take-off part I hate. And I promise not to freak out on you or whatever.”

“Wouldn’t matter if you did,” I say, my thumb still brushing against the soft skin of her wrist.

Zoey swallows, her eyes still locked with mine as I continue to hold her hand. I have no idea what’s happening here, and it’s only the arrival of the flight attendant offering us coffee that finally breaks the moment. Reluctantly, I let go of her, Zoey giving me a small smile as she pulls her hand back into her lap.

We spend the rest of the flight talking about Seattle and all the things I like about the city. Surprisingly, Zoey has never been, despite its proximity to Tahoe and even though I grew up in L.A. I spent all of my college years and most of the decade after I graduated, living in Seattle. It’s where Brandon and I set up our company and where we made all our money, having both moved there from L.A. when we finished high school.

By the time we’re descending into SeaTac, I’ve learned that Zoey has friends who live in L.A. not far from where my brother lives. Friends that were at Badger Creek over the new year period and who she hopes to catch up with in L.A. one day. As the plane hits the tarmac, the brakes pulling us back into our seats, I almost suggest we go together, before mentally giving myself a kick in the ass at the craziness of that suggestion.

At baggage claim a man in a suit waits for us, holding up an iPad with my name on it. He tips his head in my direction, a low, “Welcome to Seattle, Mr. Morrison,” falling from his mouth before he turns to Zoey and adds, “Mrs. Morri—”

“Holden,” she says, smiling. “Ms. Holden.”

I glance over to see her cheeks are flushed and her gaze firmly on the driver who’s come to get us. The driver who automatically assumed she was my wife. I literally have no idea what to say to that. Or how to interpret the way my heart is pounding like crazy inside my chest at the very idea of it.

At the hotel we both check in and go our separate ways. Our rooms are on the same floor, but at opposite ends of the corridor, which is probably a good thing considering all the crazy fucking thoughts running through my head right now.

A couple of hours later, I’m changed and downstairs in one of the large conference rooms, networking with people and keeping one eye on the door as I wait for Zoey to arrive.

By the time I’m ushered to the front of the room, I still haven’t seen her and it’s not until I walk up onto the stage following my introduction, do I finally see her at the back of the room.

She’s also gotten changed, swapping her jeans and sweater for a fitted black skirt and matching jacket, a black shirt underneath it. She looks striking dressed in all black, her long blonde hair pulled back into a low ponytail and I don’t miss the countless looks she gets from other members of the audience.

She doesn’t seem to notice though, her gaze meeting mine as she offers me a quick smile before sliding into a seat at the back of the room.

It takes all of my effort to tear my eyes away from her and to begin my presentation, some bullshit speech on what it takes to succeed in business. I want to say it takes nothing more than hard fucking work and a healthy dose of luck. Okay, that and a damn good business partner, but I know that’s not what these people expect me to say.

So instead, I regale them with stories of my time at college and the idea Brandon and I had to make use of our combined interests and skills. When I finally finish to a round of applause, I take a seat up the front, wishing to fuck I could go and sit down the back where Zoey sits.

Having seen the reaction to her slipping into the back of the room, I just know what’s coming when everyone moves into the adjoining room for the welcome reception. Zoey is fucking gorgeous, and it doesn’t take a genius to notice that half the men in this room will be making a beeline for her.

And all of that has me feeling strangely possessive.

When the session finally wraps up and everyone stands, I make my way toward the back of the room, getting stopped constantly by people who want to congratulate me or ask me questions. There are a lot of people I used to do business with here, so it takes me forever to get through the crowd. My gaze flicks to where I know Zoey was sitting, my eyes scanning the room for her as I try to field as many of these questions as quickly as I can.

By the time I’ve made it to the welcome reception, I haven’t found her and a part of me can’t help but wonder if she’s left and gone back to her room.

“Drink?”

I turn to find her now standing beside me, two glasses of red in her hands, one held out to me. “You’re a lifesaver, thank you,” I say, taking the glass from her.

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