Chapter 13 - Lex

The limo I had arranged to take us to the airport drops us off right at the hangar where my private jet is parked. I step out and open the door for Nic. We stand side by side, admiring my Gulfstream 250. She is a beauty, even if I say so myself. She's painted a pearly white, except for the outlines of the window that have a black and gold border. On the tail fin, the letters SQ are painted in black and gold.

I can't believe that Nic actually agreed to this. She is looking even more stunning than usual in her black cropped pants, a sleeveless silk blouse, and a button-down jacket. The long ropes of soft red hair are loose today, framing her beautiful face. She has taken my advice to heart and is just carrying an overnight bag. Dare I hope that I'll get lucky in Paris?

From the way she's wiping her palms on her pants, I believe she's somewhat nervous.

"What does SQ mean?" she asks, squinting at the letters.

"They are the initials of my family name. Of sorts," I say, hoping I don't have to explain any further. I don't want to lie to Nic, but I can hardly tell her that I am a Smoky Quartz dragon shifter. I am saved from answering any further questions when the captain, the co-captain, and the flight attendant come to greet us. We are soon walking up the stairs into the Gulfstream.

"Whoa, you're tall," Nic says, noticing that I have to crouch when we get inside the plane to stop my head from touching the roof.

"You noticed it just now?" I say, raising one eyebrow.

"No, but watching you in here has really driven home the point," she says in a squeaky voice. She has that deer-caught-in-headlight look in her eyes and seems rooted to the spot. We are standing right outside the cockpit, blocking the captain's way. I take her elbow gently and lead her inside.

"Wow, we're actually in a living room. I didn't know living rooms existed inside airplanes. I have flown first-class only once before when I was working in my previous job, but this is next level," she says, sitting on the edge of the off-white leather upholstered couch.

I smile and sit next to her, taking both her hands in mine.

"Hey, it's okay," I say, looking deep into her worry-tinged eyes. She nods uncertainly.

"It's all so overwhelming. I have never been on a date like this!" she says in a whisper.

"It's okay," I repeat, cupping her face. I want to erase the worry from her eyes.

"It's not about that. It's just that I'm not used to such grand gestures," she says sighing. "Nobody has ever done something like this for me. In all of the three years I was with Manuel, he made zero grand gestures. Not even little ones," There is a slight tremor in her voice and her eyes are looking unusually bright. I don't know what to say, so I just pull her into my arms and hold her close. She puts her arms around my waist and rests her head on my shoulder. She feels like heaven in my arms. I gather her closer, resting my cheek on top of her head. Closing my eyes, I let her soft, silky hair brush against my cheek. The perfume she's wearing is driving me crazy. She smells like sweet peas and stars and something magical. I never want to let her go.

My eyes fly open. What am I thinking? Of course I am going to let her go. I can't be seriously thinking of a long-term relationship! This is a one-time only thing. I don't want anything permanent.

When she sighs softly and nestles closer to me, I grit my teeth and untangle myself from her arms. Then I abruptly stand up and hurry to the polished wooden credenza where a bottle of champagne is chilling in a bucket of ice. I needed to put some distance between us.

"Champagne?" I ask in a falsely bright voice, plastering a falsely bright smile on my face.

She looks at me with confusion clouding her eyes. I don't wait for her reply. Popping the cork, I pour the champagne into two flutes and hand one to her. She takes it reluctantly.

"Let me give you a tour of the jet," I say once we've clinked our glasses and taken a sip. She is looking at me strangely.

"Lex…" she begins. I bite down a sigh. I don't want to analyze my thoughts or actions or provide any explanations.

"What?" I say perhaps a little too abruptly.

She shakes her head and takes a sip of her champagne. I do the same, observing her closely. I know the instant she pushes her serious thoughts aside and looks up at me with a fake smile. I feel like a worm.

"Thank you for doing this. I have never been to Europe before. I have always wanted to go to Paris. So how about you give me that tour," she says, stretching the smile even wider. A part of me is thankful that she's decided to keep it lighthearted, while the other is telling me that I deserved to be kicked in the nuts. My dragon is itching to do just that.

But I, too, push my thoughts aside and lead her by the arm.

"See this little screen here? It tells us our real-time location," I say, touching the screen on the partition separating us from the cockpit.

"Wow!" she says with evident enthusiasm. Is she feigning it? I don't like this. But I can hardly complain, considering my actions.

"Got this flat screen television installed last month. There's a good selection of movies, if you're up to it," I say, pointing to the TV. She nods. The fake smile is still stuck on her face, but her eyes look sad, very sad. I feel like a complete tool. But what else can I do?

Be truthful, my dragon growls.

Shut up!I hiss from the corner of my mouth.

"Excuse me?" Nic is eyeing me with an incredulous expression.

"What?" I say innocently.

"I thought I heard… never mind…" she says with a shrug, walking towards the rear. "What's through here?" she asks, pointing at the wooden partition in the middle of the plane.

I walk through the partition, motioning her to follow me.

"This here is a tiny walk-in closet," I say, pointing to her right, switching on the light in the closet.

"Oh!"

"And through here is the bedroom," I say, stepping into the bedroom on the other side of the closet.

"Wow! An actual bed! Who would've thought?" She's wide-eyed, taking in everything from the plush silk-covered bed, the flat screen television, the wet bar, the dresser. "Is that the bathroom?" she asks, hurrying forward.

"Yeah," I grin. Her reactions are so refreshingly honest. It's the one thing I like about her the most. She wears her heart on her sleeve. There is none of the pretentious nonsense I've grown accustomed to from the socialites on the rare occasions I do attend the glitzy parties.

But you don't want her honest reactions, my dragon accuses. I close my eyes briefly, trying to push all uncomfortable thoughts away.

Okay, perhaps we can reach a middle ground, I reason. I will tell Nic exactly what I can and cannot give. That way, I won't be making any false promises. I have already made my intentions clear before, but one more time won't hurt.

"Sir, we're ready for takeoff," the flight attendant peeps in through the partition separating the living area from the bedroom.

We head back to the living area and sit in sofa chairs next to the couch, strapping ourselves in. We are sitting across a table, facing each other. Within moments, we are airborne.

Nic is looking out of the window as we climb higher and higher. When she notices me looking at her, she throws a bright smile at me. Perhaps a little too bright. I curse under my breath, reach forward, and take her free hand in mine.

"Nic…" I begin, but suddenly feel tongue-tied. How do I say what I want to say without coming off as a total jerk?

"So we'll be in Paris early morning?" she asks me, trying to smooth over the awkward moment. But I don't want us to be awkward around each other. I don't want meaningless, shallow conversation with Nic. I care about her, damn it. It might not be in the way she probably expects me to care, but I care about her very much.

With difficulty, I bring my attention to the Rolex on my wrist.

"Uh, let's see, it is 4 pm now, so we should get there by 4 or 5 am Paris time. Nic, you know I'm attracted to you," I say, determined to make the awkwardness go away. I don't know if I will succeed.

She nods and takes another sip of her champagne.

"And I know you're attracted to me. I don't think that it's wrong to give in to that attraction, to want to explore it," I say, searching her face.

"Neither do I," she exhales. "But I have never done anything like this before. Perhaps because I have never felt this way about anybody ever before," she says in a barely-audible whisper.

My stomach clenches uncomfortably at her admission, but my dragon is doing a happy dance inside me.

"But just to be clear, neither of us is looking for a relationship, right?" I say, avoiding her gaze, trying not to let panic seep into my voice. She doesn't say anything for the longest time. Then she shrugs.

"I don't want a relationship," she says, peering at the bubbles rising up in her glass.

"Good," I let out a breath. "Glad that we are on the same page," I say, grinning. She looks at me with an inscrutable expression, then smiles. Her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes and is tinged with the faintest hint of sadness.

"You're not looking for anything serious, are you?" I ask again, knowing that whatever her reply is, I am going to be dissatisfied.

"I broke up with Manuel only a couple of months ago. So if I jump into a relationship now, it will most likely be a rebound. I don't do rebounds," she says, trying to be nonchalant. It's hard to tell if she's trying to convince me or herself.

I get the champagne and refill our glass and we move back to the couch.

"Why did you break up with him? If you don't mind me asking, of course," I say, sitting next to her.

"It didn't work out," she says, staring at her glass.

"Yeah, that's sort of obvious," I say with a tentative smile.

"Well, if you must know, I had a pregnancy scare. When I told Manuel that my period was late, he freaked out. Totally lost his shit. Said I'd tricked him into making me pregnant so that he would be forced to marry me. He said he had no intention of ever marrying me. That's when I saw what a big fool I had been. I had turned down some pretty great out-of-state jobs so that we could be together. Whenever I discussed these great offers with him, he would always convince me that I didn't really need to make more money, and he obviously couldn't relocate as they were going to offer him partnership at the law firm. He'd even come close to convincing me a couple of times that I don't need to work at all. We had been living together for the better part of our relationship, you see. I thought he loved me. What I didn't see till it was almost too late was that he just needed me to keep his house, clean for him, cook for him. He wanted a glorified, unpaid handmaid. Oh, and there was also the nice side benefit of not having to pay to get laid either," she says with fire blazing in her eyes.

She angrily pushes her hair out of her face and closes her eyes. I am overcome with fury upon hearing the story. I have this mad urge to take a flying leap out of the jet, shift, find this Manuel character, and pound him into a pulp.

"He didn't deserve you," I say fiercely. "You need someone who knows exactly how amazing you are, someone who is thankful to have you in his life every single day. Someone who loves you and cherishes you for who you are. Someone who doesn't try to dampen your spirit or take away your shine."

When she opens her eyes and looks at me, they're filled with tears. I feel my heart twisting painfully in my chest.

"Don't," I say, moving forward, brushing the tears away with my thumb. She's biting her lip to not let her sobs escape. I cup her face with both my hands and look her straight in the eye.

"Don't waste even a single tear on that slime ball. I wish I could get my hands on the douchebag," I say through clenched teeth.

She gives me a watery smile and sighs.

"Anyway, he's firmly in my past. I'm just thankful that I saw his true colors before it was too late."

"So you weren't pregnant then?" I ask, placing the champagne on the glass table in front of the couch.

"No. And I couldn't decide if I was more sad or relieved," she says, tracing a finger on the moisture that has collected on the outer surface of the flute.

"You want children?" I cannot help asking, even when I realize that this is potentially dangerous territory.

"Oh God yes! So badly! I'm thirty-three now, and every birthday since I crossed the big three-o has been a reminder that I might never be able to fulfill my dream of being a mother; that I'll never find my soul mate. I know that with the advances in science, I don't really need a man to be a mother, but I don't want to be a single mother, you know? I want my children to have both their parents in their lives."

Her confession makes me feel uncomfortable, especially with my dragon screaming: you're her soul mate, inside my head. She's looking so forlorn that I wish I had never asked the question.

"Hey, who wouldn't want a woman as awesome as you in their life?" I say, meaning every word, but I know my words fall short. She looks at me as if she wants to say something, but then shakes her head and smiles.

"I wish there were more men like you. Then I wouldn't have any trouble," she says with a sudden smile. I know she's trying to lighten the mood, the wonderful woman that she is. If taking a mate was a possibility for me, I would want my mate to be exactly like Nic.

My dragon gives an almighty roar of fury inside me. I need to have a stern talk with him. It is getting more and more difficult to keep him under control.