Secret Surrogate For My Boss

Trapped In The Air

Lucas was frozen next to me, his hand still hovering in the air as if he’d been stopped mid-motion. His usual confident smile was gone. Instead, I saw a flicker of guilt and panic… something I’d never noticed before.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His jaw tightened.

“Emma…” he started, voice low. “Not here. Not on the plane.”

I stared at him, anger and heartbreak mixing in my chest like fire. “Not here? Where then, Lucas? In Dallas? Your hotel? When exactly?”

He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his seat, finally letting out a heavy breath. “I… I didn’t mean for you to find out this way. I…?

“You didn’t mean for me to know?” I cut in sharply. “You’re marrying someone else. And you want to leave me in the dark? And keep fooling me?”

The tension between us was suffocating. Every time the plane hit a slight turbulence, my stomach twisted, not from the motion, but from the man sitting so close I could feel his heat and his scent. I hated him. I wanted to scream at him. And yet… a part of me still ached for him and still wanted him.

Lucas ran a hand down his face, finally letting his eyes meet mine. “Emma, I’m… I’m not ready to talk about it here. I promise, we’ll talk. Just… not on this plane.”

“Not on this plane?” I repeated, incredulous. “Lucas, you would rather f**k me on the plane than talk to me?”

He gave me a look that was half frustration, half… regret. “I’ll explain everything when we get to Dallas. But not now. Please.”

I crossed my arms, refusing to move closer or look away. My heartbeat thudded loudly. Part of me wanted to scream at him. Part of me wanted to cry. And part of me… still wanted him to pull me into his arms like nothing had happened.

The rest of the flight stretched before us, silent and tense. Every glance, every breath and every small movement between us felt loaded with unspoken words.

And I knew one thing for sure: by the time we landed in Dallas, nothing would ever be the same again.

At the five-star hotel where we checked in, I refused to stay in Lucas’s private suite as usual. I insisted on having my own room. He didn’t push. That was Lucas—always confident, but never forcing me when I drew a line.

In my room, I started unpacking, my hands moving automatically while my mind wandered. My mother’s voice rang in my head, sharp and cautious, like it always did:

“I hope there’s no ulterior motive. Why is he giving you an apartment after just six months on the job?”

I laughed then, telling her it was just part of the job perks. I lied. It wasn’t. Not even close.

“Be careful, Emma. Don’t go accepting gifts from rich men.” She admonished me.

I had heard her, but I hadn’t listened. Foolish girl, I muttered to myself now.

Not only had I accepted all his flashy gifts, his expensive trips, the attention, and the adoration…I had given him unrestricted access to my body.

A shiver ran down my spine, not from pleasure this time, but from the sharp bite of regret. I closed my eyes and whispered to myself, how could I have been so blind?

I refused his dinner offer, preferring to starve. Part of me wanted him to fuss over me, to insist I eat, to hold my hand and make me smile like he always did. But when he left me alone and didn’t bother… I hated him even more.

I was crushed. Heartbroken.

I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have boarded his private jet. I should have walked away the moment I saw that invitation and never looked back.

But I came.

I came to hear him give me some kind of explanation. To tell me; why he always looked into my eyes and whispered that he loved me. Why, he always held me in his arms like I was the most precious thing in his world. Why he always spoiled me, gave me gifts, made me feel like I mattered… and still didn’t want to marry me.

Why, he went ahead and proposed to another woman, hiding it from me. I deserved the dignity of an explanation.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the floor, my chest tight and my hands trembling. The anger, the betrayal and the longing, they were all tangled inside me, impossible to sort out.

And I waited for him to show up. To say something. Anything.

Finally, he came to my room. Two glasses in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other.

Normally, that meant the beginning of a relaxing night; drinking, touching, kissing, laughing and him teasing me until my clothes were on the floor.

But tonight, I wasn’t in the mood for anything.mNot drinking or touching. Definitely not s*x.

When he handed me a glass filled with clear liquid, I ignored him and kept my back to him, staring at the window like it held answers.

“Sit down, Emma. Let’s talk.” His voice was calm and too calm for the storm inside me.

I sat slowly. My heart thundering so loud I could barely hear myself breathe.

“I’m sorry if I got you upset,” he started. “Yeah… I should have told you about Cynthia. I shouldn’t have let you find out by yourself.”

Rage. Pain. All of it rushed through me so violently and I felt dizzy.

“But don’t take it too hard,” he added casually. “I never promised you marriage, you know?”

I spun around so fast the chair almost fell. I glared at him like he had slapped me.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I yelled, not even realizing my voice was rising. “You didn’t say the words, no. But you promised with everything you did. You made me feel loved. Special. Wanted. You made me believe I had a place in your future. You…”

“I’m sorry if how I treated you made you believe something else,” he cut me off, lifting his drink like this was some normal conversation.

“Everything I did was just me treating you nicely. The way you deserved to be treated as a young, beautiful girl… and the same way I treat my women. That was all.”

My brain shut down and I couldn’t process his words. I felt them hit me, but nothing registered. I wanted to scream, fight him and throw the glass in his face… anything. But I was frozen. Literally frozen on the chair, staring at the man I thought loved me, the man I had given everything to.

He looked back at me with calm eyes, like he had just told me the weather report. Like he hadn’t just destroyed me.

Lucas took a slow sip of vodka and continued, “Emma, Cynthia… she’s the woman I’m meant to marry.”

I blinked. My throat went dry.

“She’s a match made by my family, out of prestige, power and connections… everything I need to secure Sterlin Corporation’s future. You… you’re amazing, yes. Beautiful and smart. But you’re not the kind of woman my family expects me to marry.”

His words left me cold. Immediately, I regretted coming to hear him out. His “explanation” was worse than none. I stayed glued to the chair, unable to look him in the face. Every shred of dignity I had was gone.

It would have been better if I hadn't come with him. My self-respect would have stayed intact if I had walked out the moment I saw that invitation.

Now… How in the world was I going to return home to New York?