It amazed me that my journey from Heathrow to Frankfurt had taken little over an hour and a half, but to travel between Frankfurt and Berlin was almost the same distance. The car led me to an airstrip where a private jet waited, a great silver bullet of an aircraft, majestically poised for take off. Nerves jangled in my stomach, replaced by the clenching of deep muscles as I found Callaghan sitting on the plane, his shirt and jacket removed, wearing just a white fitted vest and his suit trousers. He was on the phone, head lolled to the left in the head restraint, laughing softly.
I wondered who he was talking to, and berated myself internally for having that thought. It was none of my business.
The clenching didn't abate when he regarded me with the lifting of his thick dark brows, and
