Rise - Part One (Rise #1)(3)

I open my mouth to try and explain why I've spent the past five minutes appearing to ignore Gabriel in favor of talking to Landon. I should have walked away the moment he approached me. "I was on a flight…"

"Tess," Landon interrupts me with a soft touch on my forearm. "Allow me. Tess was on a flight I piloted a couple of weeks ago. We met briefly then."

I feel a sigh of relief pour through me when he neglects to mention the mini panic attack I had. I know that part of being the exclusive event planner for Gabriel's company is going to involve lots of travel. I don't want him to view me as a scared doe who can't handle that aspect of the job.

"I didn't know you two were friends," I begin as my mind searches for a way to move the conversation away from the flight and into the present, and more importantly, the future. I'm determined to prove to Gabriel Foster that I'm the woman who should be planning each and every event his company, and all of its subsidiaries, has lined up for the next year, and beyond.

"Gabriel, has your mother mentioned meeting Tess?" Landon scoops his arm around my waist. "They actually sat next to one another on that flight."

"No." I absentmindedly feel my head shake slightly from side-to-side. Whenever I'm anxious, I can't shut myself up and on that long flight from Milan to New York, I talked non-stop to Gianna, the beautiful, older woman, seated in 2A. One subject of discussion I got stuck on was the pilot of the airplane. I had rambled on incessantly about how deep his voice was and how expertly he handled the aircraft. I can't be certain, but after my second glass of wine, I may have whispered to her, that I'd even consider joining the mile high club with him. "That can't be right."

"It's right." Landon cocks a brow as he looks down at me. "It's a small world, isn't it?"

"It's a small world indeed." Gabriel nods. "I need a moment, Tess."

I need a cave to hide in.

"We'll catch up after you're done." Landon's voice carries through the air behind me as Gabriel guides me towards a quiet corner. I don't turn to look back. I won't. Any catching up he has to do is with Gabriel. I have no intention of ever seeing Captain Beckett again.





Chapter 2


"I believe this belongs to you."

You would think that this nightmare would have ended when I woke up this morning in a cold sweat. I might be able to attribute my damp skin to the fact that my air conditioning isn't working again, but the cool breeze that was flowing in from my open bedroom window did little to shake off the overwhelming feeling of doom that has been stuck with me since last night.

Now, as I settle into my day behind my desk in the small office I rented on the Upper West Side, I don't need to look up to know that the pilot who haunted my broken dreams all night is standing in my doorway. When I do look at him, I clearly see one of my pale blue business cards in his hand.

When I'd strategically placed a small pile of them by a table situated at the entrance to the fashion show it wasn't with the hope that someone like him would pick one up. It was a ploy to grab a new client or two and he doesn't strike me as someone who throws many elaborate events.

"What belongs to me?" I ask without thought.

"This." He steps towards me with a familiar pale yellow envelope in his other hand. My eyes trail across the open flap before they settle on him. He's as striking as he was last night when he was dressed in a suit. Today he's opted for a black t-shirt and jeans but the impact is just as overwhelming. He's muscular, trim and his brilliant smile is on full display once again.

"I told you that was trash." I gesture towards the simple, silver wastebasket that is next to my desk. "I don't want that back."

Without invitation he lowers himself into one of the white leather straight back chairs I purchased at a second hand store around the corner. The budget to decorate my office had been restricted to no more than a few hundred dollars, and I had used each and every penny wisely. The space is compact, but it's welcoming and hints of a business that is more successful than it really is. I may have to fake it for now, but I have little doubt that I'm going to make it.

He scratches the edge of his nose with one of his long fingers and that's when I notice the elaborate tattoo that is partially visible on his bicep. It's an intricate blending of shaded black and grey hues. There's no mistaking the beauty of several roses but woven into the design are other details that make it captivating. "Do you like tattoos, Tess?"

The question jars me enough that I push my back into my chair. I feel the leather on the seat pull apart as I shift and I wince. I'd taken the least attractive of the three chairs I bought and tucked it behind my desk. What is hidden from potential clients' eyes won't hurt them. It only hurts me or more specifically, the back of my thighs when I wear a dress or skirt. The hard, cheap leather of the worn seat scratches my skin almost daily but it's a reminder of what I'm working towards. My dreams of a beautiful office in a building on Fifth Avenue fuel me and make this used chair that much more tolerable.

"I guess," I breathe, pulling my gaze from his arm back to his hand. That doesn’t help. He's holding an intimate reminder of a life I willingly walked away from and a man who, at one time, was my future. "I told you that I'd call the airline today about that."