As the evening approaches, we’re on the private jet, seated side by side but worlds apart. Paris is a city of romance, and I think of how ironic it is to go there with Grace.
As the air hostess brings the wrong drink for her, Grace rebukes her, raising my anger. “What the hell? Didn’t I make myself clear to you to bring red wine for me? You all are so useless-“
I can’t bear her behaviour any longer and interject.
“Shut up, Grace.” I snap, my tone harsh and final.
“Please, I don’t want your lecture again, Mr Grey.” She retorts in annoyance before turning her attention back to the air hostess.
“Now, why are you still standing here? Go bring my drink,” she orders with no regard for basic courtesy, and the air hostess leaves after bowing to her.
“You can’t behave like this with her, Grac
