Chapter 3: The Price of the Sky
767 Words
The inside of Elias's Gulfstream was a calm place with cream leather, polished walnut and quiet. It was a space that kept the outside world away. Juno was buzzing with energy that could harm the plane.
She sat in a seat that cost more than her cottage, her muddy boots resting on the soft silk carpet. Between her feet was a carrier for a bird.
"The bird can't stay in the cabin Juno " Elias said, not looking up from his tablet. He was already back to his world checking the market changes caused by his fathers death.
"He's a kestrel with a head injury and a heart problem Elias. If he goes in the hold the air pressure change will kill him. If he dies I leave through that emergency exit. Choose who will die."
Elias finally looked up. He saw her: she was wearing a worn-out oversized sweater and patched jeans. She looked like a smudge of dirt on a canvas.
"The seal on that door is made for thirty thousand feet, " Elias said dryly. "You won't be able to open it.. Fine. The bird stays. Just keep the... Smell under control."
Juno leaned back her fingers nervously tapping against the carriers mesh. "You're doing that thing again. Talking like people and kestrels are items. People aren't lists and neither're kestrels."
"In my world everyone is a line item " Elias countered. He tapped a file on his screen. Sent it to the large monitor on the cabin wall. A list of names appeared. "These are the people who will be waiting for us at Teterboro Airport. Lawyers, PR people and your new security team."
Juno stared at the names. "Security? I’m a bird rehabilitator, not a diplomat."
"You are the heiress to Thorne Enterprises " Elias corrected. "In the four hours your wealth has surpassed the GDP of several small countries. My fathers board is divided into two groups: those who want to buy you off and those who want to get rid of you. You are a threat to their stability. That makes you a target."
Juno looked out the window. The Scottish coastline was a memory beneath the clouds now. "Is that what I am to you? A target?"
Elias paused. He thought of the "Unification Clause." He thought of the way his father had grinned during their argument, a week before the stroke telling Elias that he was "too cold to lead a living company."
"You are a necessity, " Elias said, his voice dropping. "I need you to survive the twelve months so I can keep my company. To do that you have to stop being Juno Mercer of Skye. You have to become a Thorne."
"And what does a Thorne look like?"
Elias stood up. He walked over to her, invading her space until he could smell the salt air on her skin. He reached out his thumb catching a smudge of Highland dirt on her cheekbone. He rubbed it off with the precision of a man polishing a gemstone.
"A Thorne looks like they own the air everyone else is breathing " he whispered. "They don't fidget. They don't explain.. They never ever let anyone see what they're protecting."
Juno didn't flinch. She grabbed his wrist, her grip strong—the hands of someone who wrestles injured predators into submission. "I'm not a gemstone you can cut to fit a ring, Elias. I'm the thing that breaks the tools."
The tension in the cabin shifted, thickening until the hum of the jet engines seemed to fade. For a second Elias wasn't thinking about the board or the shares. He was looking at the fire in her grey eyes. Wondering if he had made a catastrophic mistake. He had brought a thing into his glass cage and he was starting to realize he might be the one trapped inside with it.
"We'll see, " he said, pulling his hand away. "We land in six hours. Use the bedroom in the back. There are clothes waiting for you. Burn the sweater, Juno. It's for your good."
He turned back to his desk. As he sat down he noticed his hand was trembling—just a fraction.
Juno didn't move. She picked up the kestrel's carrier and walked toward the back of the plane. Just before she disappeared behind the bulkhead she looked back at him.
"You know, for a man who owns everything " she said softly "you look like you're starving to death."
The door slid shut. Elias stared at his screen. The numbers no longer made sense.
- Writer
