In my two years working for the Huntington family, I had unwittingly been exposed to many of the luxuries of high society: the designer wardrobes, the lavish parties, the exclusivity. I once witnessed a museum docent, eager to please, slip a dinner jacket worn by John F. Kennedy over Nicholas's shoulders—a jacket promptly doused in champagne moments later. But who was counting?
Though I wasn't accustomed to being spoiled, there were certain trappings of the rich and famous that I had grown rather fond of. None more so than the private jet.
"Well, that's me done." I flopped onto a plush leather recliner the moment we boarded, tossing my purse beside me. "Wake me up when we're back in Manhattan."
Nicholas chuckled and took a seat next to me, nodding to the pilot that he was ready to take
