Anyone But Rich (Anyone But..., #1)(5)

I wondered if she could forgive me or if her forgiveness would fill the void I’d been carrying inside for so long. I’d been too proud to come here without an excuse before now, but I apparently wasn’t above risking tens of millions and the future of my company when doing so had provided even the flimsiest reason to return to West Valley. I could laugh at myself if it wasn’t so sad. It was the billionaire version of leaving your coat at a girl’s house on the first date so you had a reason to see her again.

We were on a private jet that was technically owned by Sion. Maybe it was only because I was back home, but I kept catching my mind wandering. I thought about how strange it was to own a private jet when the guys we’d gone to school with were still trying to land their first salaried jobs. I thought about how I would’ve never believed you could get used to so much excess. I even thought of Kira, who still looked seventeen in my mind’s eye, and I thought of what she’d think if she saw me now. I wondered if she’d let life run her down already. If she had bags under her eyes and was waiting tables in some crummy diner. It was possible, but I didn’t think so. The Kira I knew was too driven. Too strong.

I put it from my mind when Stella took her seat beside me. She rested her hand on top of mine. It was cold and stiff, but I figured it would look convincing enough to anyone who cared to pay attention, most of all my parents. We hadn’t even told my brothers the truth about our farce of a relationship, which was for the best. My brothers didn’t see our parents the way I did, and I couldn’t be sure they’d keep the truth quiet.

My parents sat a few seats over, but they seemed more preoccupied by their drinks and the plate of appetizers they were sharing.

“Airsick?” I asked. Stella looked a little more icy and pale than usual.

“A little,” she said. “Or maybe it’s just touching you.”

I grinned and lowered my voice. “Asshole. Just because you’re not interested in men, it doesn’t mean you can’t hurt my feelings.”

She made a tittering sound. “I wasn’t aware you had feelings.”

“Careful. If you provoke me too much, I’ll put my hand on your thigh and make you puke.”

“If you make me puke, I’m aiming for your eyes.”

I laughed. “Heterophobe.”

“That’s not even a thing,” she said dryly.

“I’m screwing with you.” I lowered my voice until it was barely a whisper. “I get it. This arrangement is weird, but it’s keeping both our parents off our backs. Yours can stop setting you up with guys who try to paw you, and mine can stop harassing me about how I should get to know so-and-so’s daughter because her parents have a great estate or because they’re very well regarded at the country clubs.”

She sighed, and the amusement faded from her face. “You know I’m kidding too. I still feel weird about all of this. We can’t pretend we’re together forever. Sooner or later, my parents—”

“What’s up, lovebirds?” asked Cade. He came walking down the aisle with Nick trailing behind him. Cade gripped a beer bottle by the neck and tipped back a sip while grinning at me. “Jesus.” He laughed. “She looks like she’s got a flagpole up her ass, and you look like someone took a dump in your cereal this morning.”

Nick nodded.

“We’re launching a new headquarters, not going to a funeral. You told him, right?” Cade asked Nick.

Nick’s hair was always a tousled mess of raven black. He wore glasses because he still refused to get corrective surgery. He was the smartest guy I knew, but he could also be a paranoid idiot when it came to medical things. Everything came easy to him, and he’d gradually learned that he had to try only half as hard as everyone else to do twice as well.

Cade and Nick slid into the seats across from Stella and me.

“I have an idea,” Cade said.

“No,” I said without hesitation. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be borderline suicidal, and it probably also has the potential to kill somebody else.”

He frowned, but from the grin on Nick’s face I could already see I was spot-on.

“Okay, while both of those outcomes are technically possibilities, they’re highly unlikely. I was just going to say there are parachutes onboard. That’s it. We checked earlier, and they’re definitely here. Wasn’t gonna say another word.” He waited with his hands spread and his eyebrows up, as if he had just given me information that would be highly relevant to me.

“Okay,” I said. “Jalen,” I called to my personal assistant, who was at the back of the plane. He posed for a selfie by one of the windows, flashing his phone a cringeworthy duck face and narrowed eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, stuffing his phone in his pocket. “I’m going to use that for my Tinder profile. It’s crazy how many matches I get when I take selfies in front of your stuff.”

I glared at him, and from the way he shrank into himself, he got the message.

“I need you to find any and all parachutes on the plane and barricade yourself in the bathroom with them. You can try taking a selfie with those and see if it gets you any matches too.”

“All the—yeah, the parachutes. Right. Probably could find one over—” He reached for the door that led outside.