Rella couldn’t describe the level of panic that leapt up her throat leaving her heart pounding mercilessly across her chest at the word honeymoon. She sat frozen on one of the plush seats of Stefan’s private jet waiting as he went to have a word with the pilot at the c**k pit but not after he had offered her a warm blanket.
Stefan came back a few minutes later and strode to the cabinet to pour himself a glass of brandy. He gave her a side-long glance.
‘’What’s wrong? You look awfully quiet, I hope it’s not my boring company.’’
‘’No it’s not that.’’ Far from it. She thought ruefully.
‘’Would you like a glass.’’ He said suddenly.
It was then that she felt the parchedness of her throat; she licked her lips unaware of Stefan’s heated gaze trailing every movement. ‘’Yes please.’’ Stefan
