Stella's eye twitched, a jolt of nerves shooting through her. "When?"
Ethan looked at her, grinning. "Wheels up in four hours. You've got time to finish your bath and pack your things."
She almost leapt right out of the bathtub! "You're doing this on purpose!" There were more than a dozen flights between Seamill and Northwood every single day, and he had to pick one that left in the middle of the night? Total scheming asshole move.
As if he could read exactly what was running through her head, Ethan explained in a slow, unhurried drawl, "It's a private jet. Not the same as a commercial flight."
Hearing that, she deflated like a punctured balloon and sank back into the hot bathwater. 'f*****g hell. Money really does let you do whatever the hell you want! The guy even owns a private jet!
