*Harper*
Damien’s jet is my new favorite place in the world. I mean, I love my apartment, I love everywhere I go with my guys, and I even love my tiny little Prius back home. But this is luxury wrapped in silk, dipped in champagne, and handed to me on a silver platter.
Scott is playing with the massage chair, testing every setting like a kid on Christmas morning. Tomas, ever composed, reading something on his tablet, pretending like he’s not secretly enjoying the five-star treatment. And Damien? Damien is lounging like a king, sipping whiskey in a glass that was probably hand-blown in some exclusive European workshop.
“I could get used to this,” I say with a sigh, stretching my legs on the reclining seat.
“You should get used to it,” Damien says, swirling his drink. “This is your life
