“This is insane, you know.” I wipe my mouth with the cloth napkin given to me by the ridiculously efficient flight attendant. We’re an hour into this flight, and I’ve been served an appetizer and a main course that I would replace in a fancy restaurant. And don’t even get me started on how incredible this plane is. “I was nervous when you mentioned a private plane because I pictured a tiny little thing with tons of turbulence carrying me over the ocean.”
Ryan grins across from me. There’s a beautiful marble table between us, covered with a white tablecloth and a spread of food laid out for us to pick and choose what we want. The roasted chicken with carrots and potatoes is delicious. “I prefer to travel in a more comfortable setting.”
I let my eyes roam over the cabin of this jet. “How many can this seat?”
“Thirteen comfortably,” he replies and takes a bite of chicken. “And I like that I barely have to duck down to walk through.”
“And what kind of jet is this?”
He smiles again, almost smugly. “It’s a Gulfstream, G650ER, if you want to get technical. We can fly from Montana to Paris without having to stop for fuel.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, ma’am. I’m not.”
The leather on the seats is just…butter. The wood paneling gleams, and there are televisions set out for entertainment, boasting Netflix, Passionflix, and other streaming services to choose from.
There’s even a king-sized bed in the back, already made up for us with the softest, fluffiest blankets I’ve ever seen. I have a feeling I’ll be joining the mile-high club today, and just the thought of it has my stomach clenching in anticipation.
“You look a little overwhelmed, and we haven’t even gotten there yet,” he says, setting his fork on his empty plate.
“I mean, have you seen this plane?” His grin is quick, and I can’t help but think about how damn handsome he is.
I also don’t want to think about how many women he’s had sex with in that bed.
“What?” he asks.
“What what?” I counter.
“Something just went through that sexy brain of yours. I saw it in your eyes.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I sip my water and try to act nonchalant, but he narrows his eyes and reaches over to drag his fingertips down my jawline in that way he does that makes me all gooey.
“Bullshit,” he says softly. “Don’t lie to me, babe. We’re far past that.”
“I am not lying—” I stop and exhale. “Jealousy isn’t something I’m particularly comfortable with, and I know it’s not an attractive trait, and I don’t want to tell you what I was thinking.”
“Okay, that’s honest.” He doesn’t take his eyes off mine. “And now I have to know what it was.”
I chuckle, shake my head, and look out at the clouds skimming by beneath us. “That bed back there looks comfortable.”
“Look at me.”
His voice is still mild but also leaves no room for argument, and I turn my gaze back to his.
“I was just thinking that I don’t want to know how many women you’ve taken on a trip and fucked in that bed. See? Not terribly attractive.”
Without answering me, Ryan presses the call button for the flight attendant, and within seconds, he’s standing beside Ryan’s chair.
“We’re finished here,” Ryan says. “And I’d like to be left in private until an hour before we land, then we’ll have breakfast and coffee.”
“Of course, Mr. Wild.” The attendant nods and takes our plates away. “Give me five minutes to clean this up, and I’ll be out of your way.”
We sit in silence, watching each other as he bustles back and forth, cleaning our meal. He sets out four bottles of water and assures Ryan that all he has to do is buzz for him in case we need anything, and then he goes to a private little room and closes the door.
“He has his own room?” I ask in surprise.
“I value privacy,” Ryan returns and stands, reaches for my hand and pulls me up next to him, then leads me back to the bedroom. “We left in the afternoon so we can sleep through the night and arrive in Paris in the morning, local time, and start our day. It’s the best way to avoid horrible jet lag.”
“Okay.” I don’t like that he’s suddenly a little cold toward me, as if my earlier statement irritated him. I also don’t like that he didn’t address it at all. “Look, I’m sorry if I upset you, but you told me not to lie, and—”
Suddenly, Ryan lifts me off my feet and onto my back on the bed, and he’s covering me with his long, lean body and kissing the hell out of me.
“No one,” he says against my lips. “I’ve had no one on this plane. I use it for business, and if I wanted to fuck someone, I did that somewhere else. Not here. Only you, Polly.”
I swallow hard and plunge my fingers into the thick, dark hair at the back of his head.
“Why did I make you mad?”
“Not mad.” He rubs his nose against mine. “It frustrates me that you’d think of me with someone else when all I can think about is you.”
He kisses me again before I can reply. His hands roam over me, and I’m instantly swept up in him. His lips journey down my body, leaving wet kisses as he uncovers my skin while shedding my clothes. I want his skin under my touch, so I tug at his shirt, pulling it over his head. We’re a tangle of arms and hands as we undress each other, and then we’re naked and pressed together as he kisses me some more.
Ryan’s mouth might be my favorite thing in the world.
“Can’t get enough of you,” he groans against my breastbone. “I can’t fucking stop thinking about you, and when I have you with me, under me, against me, it’s almost not enough.”
“I know.” I fist my fingers in his hair and urge him up so I can kiss his sexy lips. “I know, Ryan.”
“And my name on your sexy mouth is almost my undoing.”
He takes my lips again as his hand journeys down my side, over my hip, and between my legs, where he playfully tickles my lips.
“You’re fucking soaked.”
“Do you expect to be able to say things like you just did, kiss me the way you do, and it not have an effect on me?” I smile at him and then sigh when one of his fingers sinks inside of me. “It always feels so damn good.”
With one hand circling my throat—not pushing, just resting—Ryan presses himself inside of me, and we both moan with the pleasure of it.
“There’s no one but you,” he says as he starts to move. I raise my legs higher on his hips and drag my nails down his back as he picks up the pace. When my neck arches, his teeth latch on to the skin under my ear, and then he growls, “You’re fucking everything.”
I’ve never felt so cherished as I do when I’m with this man. His words send me over the edge into oblivion. I don’t hold back the loud cry, and I clench around him as the orgasm moves through me.
With two final thrusts, Ryan loses control, emptying himself into me.
After we take a minute to catch our breath, Ryan kisses my shoulder, then my lips, and then climbs from the bed and walks into a bathroom bigger than the one in my house. I hear the water running, and then he returns with a hot washcloth and proceeds to clean me up.
“You’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen.” He says it as simply as if he’s talking about the weather.
And I snort laugh because literally no one has ever said that to me in my life.
“I don’t replace it particularly funny.” His hazel eyes climb to mine as he tosses the cloth aside and pulls the covers back on the bed, and we climb inside to get cozy. We lie on our sides, facing each other, and I tuck my hand under my cheek.
“I mean, thank you for the compliment, but, Ryan…I’ve seen the women you’ve dated in the past. Or, at least the women you’ve been photographed with.”
“And?”
“I’m not a tall, leggy blonde.”
“No, you’re a petite, curvy redhead with the most gorgeous emerald-green eyes in the world. And speaking of your hair.” He reaches out to drag his fingers through it. “Do you know that when we were together that first night, I was obsessed with your hair? I couldn’t get enough of it. I still can’t. In addition to all the outside beauty,” he continues, “you’re smart and funny. You help others. You’re generous with your time and your business. For fuck’s sake, you buy your customers cookies.”
“That’s just good business sense.” I’m practically glowing from the inside out at his praise.
“Like I said, you’re smart.”
“I do have faults, you know.”
He raises an eyebrow. “And those are?”
“I’m forgetful. I suspect that when we get to the hotel, I’ll discover that I left something at home that I need.”
“You have your passport, right?”
“I’m not that forgetful.”
“Then anything else can be replaced. What else is wrong with you?”
That makes me snicker. “I’m pretty stubborn.”
“I noticed.”
I laugh again, and he grins at me. “God, I love your smile, Ryan Wild.”
He pulls me closer to him and kisses my forehead.
“Wanna know a secret?” I ask him in a whisper.
“I want to know all your secrets.”
“I think you’re incredible,” I reply, feeling safe here in this cozy bed, in the dark, so high up in the sky. “I’ve been proud of you for years because you were my brother’s best friend. I’ve seen how you help people. Sure, you’re rich. I don’t even want to know how much this plane cost.”
“About sixty million,” he says with a shrug, and my eyes just about bug out of my head.
“Fucking hell, Ryan.”
“But back to what you were saying.”
I swallow hard and lick my lips again. “Jesus, I can’t even wrap my head around that. Anyway, I know that you’re generous, and you’re so damn intelligent. You’re amazing with your son, and you have a fabulous family. And don’t even get me started on how freaking handsome you are.”
“No, go on. Tell me how hot I am.”
I laugh and lean in to quickly kiss him. “Also, you’re so humble.”
“I really am.”
“I guess I’m saying that the sentiment is reciprocated here. I think you’re incredible, too.”
His eyes sober as he drags his fingertips down my cheek. “Thanks, babe. We should sleep for a few hours.”
“I could sleep.” I move into him, rest my cheek on his chest, and take a deep breath. “You know you’ve now ruined me for all other travel. How am I supposed to book a commercial flight after this?”
He chuckles and kisses the top of my head. “You don’t need to book any commercial flights. Go to sleep, beautiful girl.”
With a sigh, I feel myself falling into sleep with the sound of his heart under my ear.
“Welcome home.” The bellman at the Ritz tips his hat to me as Ryan, with his hand in mine, leads me through the doors of the hotel, up the stairs, and through the revolving door into the lobby. His security team met us at the airport and followed us to the hotel. Now, two big, burly men with earpieces in their ears, wearing suits, follow us inside.
I take a second to soak it in. The floors are marble, with blue and gold rugs that line the long hallway down to what I assume are the restaurants. There are three steps up to the right that lead to the concierge desk, and the reception desks are just around the corner.
Ryan quickly handles the check-in, and we’re escorted to the nearby elevator and up to the second floor, then down a hallway to a double door with the words Suite Coco Chanel written on the right-hand side.
My wide eyes look up to replace Ryan smiling down at me.
“No way.”
“Right this way, mademoiselle,” the man says as he unlocks the door and escorts us inside, me at the front. The security detail stays behind in the hallway. “You have the whole suite, which includes two bedrooms and two bathrooms. Everything is as you requested, Mr. Wild.”
He shows us where the phones are, opens the drapes, and gives us information, but the blood is rushing through my ears.
Ryan booked us the Coco Chanel suite during fashion week. I’m staying in her freaking suite.
“Can I ask you some questions?” I ask before he can bustle out.
“Of course. What can I help you with?”
“Is this her original suite?”
“No,” he replies with a soft smile. “Her original apartment was on the sixth floor, on the other side of the hotel, where she could look out at her shop. It was moved in 2012 during our renovations, and, as you can see, I think it has the best view in all of Paris. That is the Plaza Vendome.”
“It’s a beautiful view,” I agree as I look out at the square with people bustling about, cars driving by, and a very tall copper statue of Napoleon Bonaparte. “Is anything in here original to her?”
“Yes, the folding screens at the end of this room,” he says, gesturing to them, and I notice that Ryan is hanging back, his hands stuffed in his pockets, listening to us. “There were six originally, and two of them are here. I believe the other four remain in her apartment above the shop on Rue Cambon. And although these are not her original rooms, they are decorated the way she had them, and that camel-colored couch is an exact replica of her sofa.”
I nod, taking it all in. “Thank you for the information.”
“Of course, that’s what I’m here for. If you wish to have any other tours or have questions, don’t hesitate to ask.”
I nod at him. Ryan follows him out, and, I’m assuming, tips him.
I cross to the windows and stare out at the view below. Louis Vuitton is on the corner to the right, with Dior next to them. On the left is Cartier, and across the street is Van Cleef and Arpels.
The fashion on this street is overwhelming and exciting all at the same time.
I hear the bellman deliver our luggage, and then Ryan murmurs something to his security guy before he shuts the door again, and we’re alone. I can smell the spectacular display of pink roses that sit on the table beside the couch.
I feel Ryan approach me from behind, and he takes my shoulders in his hands and bends down to kiss my neck.
“Talk to me,” he whispers. “You’re tense, and I can’t read you.”
“You didn’t have to do this.” I turn in his arms and stare up at him as I cup his cheek, which is rough with stubble. He did all of this for me. “We don’t need a two-bedroom suite this week.”
“Yes, we do,” he counters. “We’ll be in the master, and the other room will be your dressing room. I have it under good authority that we’ll have a lot of clothes and bags and shoes and I don’t even know what else delivered here.”
I’m struck dumb as I stare up at him.
“For what?”
Ryan laughs and kisses my forehead. “For you, silly. Now, are you hungry? London and Drew don’t get in for a couple of hours yet, and I know you and London have some appointments later this afternoon for shopping. But before that, we should grab something to eat.”
“I don’t even know.” I look around and still can’t believe that I’m in the Coco Chanel suite. “You’re right, I’m keyed up. Maybe we should talk, and I’ll calm down. These flowers are pretty.”
“I had them brought in,” he says with a frown as I wander away from him. “Why are you nervous, babe?”
“I didn’t expect all of this.” I sweep my arm, indicating the room around us. “I thought we’d just be in a regular suite.”
“There are no regular suites in this hotel,” he says with a grin. “And I knew you’d love this, so I made it happen.”
“Who did you have to sweet talk to give it up?” I roll my eyes when he simply shrugs a shoulder. “I may be naïve when it comes to this stuff, but even I know that this suite had to have been booked out for someone important in the fashion industry.”
“Anna Wintour.”
I stare at him, and then I have to sit down because I feel like I’m going to pass out.
“You took this room from Anna Wintour, the editor-in-chief of Vogue magazine? Are you fucking kidding me?”
“She was fine with taking another suite,” he replies simply, as if it’s no big deal.
“Sure. Of course, she was.” I shake my head and stand, then circle behind the gorgeous couch, running my hand along the back of it. Then I move to the side of the room to look at the photos of Chanel herself. Some were taken in her original apartment at the Ritz. “I can’t believe I’m here. I probably owe you all kinds of sexual favors for this.”
“You don’t owe me anything.”
I turn to replace him standing across the room, his hands still in his pockets, watching me with cool eyes. His voice is full of insult, and it makes my heart hurt. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.
“You’re angry.”
“I’m…fine. I’ll do or say whatever you need me to in order to make you comfortable.”
I realize that I’m being ridiculous. I need to loosen up and enjoy this opportunity of a lifetime. Just because it’s something that I wouldn’t normally be able to afford doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t enjoy the gift that it is.
So, I smile and run across the room and launch myself into Ryan’s arms, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him with all I’ve got.
“Thank you,” I say against his lips, enjoying the way his hands are planted on the globes of my ass and the way his muscles bunch under my hands. “Thank you so much for all of this. It’s amazing and wonderful and a dream come true, and I’m so grateful.”
“You’re welcome. And this smile is way better than the frown from a second ago.”
“I think I’m just overwhelmed,” I admit, and rest my forehead against his. “That’s all. We’re in the Coco Chanel suite, Ryan.”
“Yes, we are.”
“That’s fucking amazing.”
“I’m here, and I’m ready to shop,” London announces when she waltzes into our room a couple of hours later. Ryan and I ordered room service and took showers, then enjoyed a quick walk around the hotel to get our bearings and look around. It was exactly what I needed to refresh and fight off the jet lag.
When London texted and said that they’d arrived, we came back to meet them at our room.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” I say with a wide grin. “Look at where I’m staying!”
“I know,” London says with a little squeal and then does a happy dance before pulling me in for a big hug. “Holy shitballs, Batman.”
“Nice digs,” Drew says as he walks in behind her, looking handsome in a white button-down shirt and dark blue jeans.
“Which suite are you in?” I ask them.
“The Hemingway Suite,” Drew replies. “And it’s ridiculous. Not this big, but it’s fancy as shit.”
I grin at him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I think every room in this place is fancy as shit.”
“You’d be right,” London counters, and then high-fives Ryan. “We pulled it off. Okay, you two, show me everything. I’ve never stayed in this room.”
It takes us thirty minutes to walk around and ooh and aah over every little detail. We speculate and gossip and talk about the icon herself until we’re both a couple of giggling idiots.
It’s the best day ever.
“We have shopping appointments,” London says, checking her watch. “In thirty minutes.”
“So, we’re shopping before the shows?” I ask her as we sit on the iconic couch.
“Yes, because while you always look stylish and put together, you’ll want some ready-to-wear pieces from the fashion houses to wear to the shows. Then, when it’s all said and done, we’ll shop again for the new stuff. It really doesn’t suck.”
I do a mental inventory of my bank account and just about break out into a sweat.
There’s just no way that I can shop like this and still pay my bills.
“Don’t overthink it,” London advises, her voice low as the guys have a conversation in another part of the suite. “This is Ryan’s treat, Poll. I’m not footing any of the bill, so you don’t have to be uncomfortable.”
“I’m not exactly comfortable with him footing the bill.”
“I’m going to give you a piece of unsolicited advice,” she says and pushes her dark hair behind her ear. “Ryan wants to do this for you. For the both of you. He wants you to get whatever you want, to really experience every minute of this trip. Take him up on it, Polly. He can afford it, and it’s all his idea. It’s a gift.”
“I know.” I nod and take a long, deep breath. “I know it is, but I’m not used to any of this. And maybe I wonder if it’s possible to get used to it.”
“He’s worked hard for his money,” she counters. “Damn hard. He’s generous with charities and causes and gives away more money than he keeps. You wouldn’t be with an unethical man.”
“I’m not saying that.”
“And you work hard, too,” she continues. “You work your ass off, and you’re good at your job. Consider this a work event, Polly. You’ll be networking and getting ideas for your shop. Even if you don’t carry luxury labels, the entire fashion industry takes its cues from these brands. The colors, the cuts, the styles. It all trickles down.”
“You’re right about that.”
“So, it’s for work. And maybe a little for fun.” She winks at me, covers my hand with hers to give it a reassuring squeeze, and then stands. “Now, we have an appointment across the street there at Louis Vuitton.”
“And we don’t want to be late,” I agree as butterflies set up residence in my stomach. “Let’s go do some damage.”
“Are you ladies headed out?” Drew asks as he draws London in for a sweet kiss.
“Hell yes, we are,” London replies with a grin.
“The boutique has my card on file,” Ryan informs me as he also pulls me in to kiss me. “Get whatever you want. Don’t look at price tags and freak yourself out.”
“Ryan—”
He covers my lips with his. “Don’t freak yourself out,” he repeats. “And have fun.”
“Thank you.” I cup his cheek and smile up at him. “I already am having fun.”
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