Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 196 Turns out, I didn't die. "Hello? Is someone in there?" a woman's voice called from the other side of the door. It was definitely a flight attendant. "Oh, crap!" I hissed, right before Nathaniel's hand covered my mouth as he tried, and failed, not to laugh. "Please return to your seats and fasten your belts," the attendant said, her tone clipped but polite. "We're preparing for landing." "Of course, miss. We'll be right out," Nathaniel replied smoothly, buttoning up his shirt like this was just another Tuesday. "We're?" I squeaked. Was he kidding me?

Couldn't he at least pretend to be alone? "You really think one of us can walk out of here without her noticing the other?" he asked, not looking the least bit concerned. "Relax." "Relax? Relax? They could deport me or... or-" "Well," he said, smirking, "that's still a lot less scary than thinking you were going to die ten minutes ago, isn't it? Honestly, Annie, are you always this dramatic?" I wasn't dramatic. I was practical.

I was supposed to have landed at Heathrow over an hour ago, where a Kensington company driver would've been waiting to take me to my hotel for the weekend before my big meeting Monday morning. Instead, I was headed who-knows-where, with no clue how to get to London-and possibly about to get arrested for joining the Mile High Club. If this ever got back to my family... Zoey would laugh herself breathless, the same way I did when she told me she'd mistaken a billionaire for a gigolo. But Christian?

Christian would never trust me with another opportunity again-not after finding out I'd acted like some hormone-driven teenager on my very first business flight. What on earth had possessed me to think this was a good idea? "I think worrying about dying and deportation are perfectly reasonable concerns," I muttered.

and caging me between him and the wall, "is that you clearly need to have sex more often.' 11 Before I could form a comeback, he pulled a business card from the inside pocket of his blazer and slid it into the front pocket of my blouse. His lips brushed dangerously close to my ear. "I can help with that," he murmured, with a wink.

seats." Of course. That explained everything. He wasn't worried because of course he was a regular flyer-a VIP, probably. And not just in business class. Judging by her reaction, this wasn't his first

Nathaniel said smoothly to the attendant. "Could you bring us two glasses of whiskey? Annie here got a little shaken up from all that turbulence." "I am not shaken up!" I blurted-way too loudly. "And I don't even drink whiskey!" "One whiskey and one champagne, then," the attendant said with a knowing little smile, clearly remembering my earlier order. Before I could protest again, Nathaniel's hand found the small of my back, guiding me gently but firmly

fine-fallen might be a strong word. I didn't exactly regret it. It had been good. Ridiculously good. I never would've believed a quick encounter in an airplane bathroom could leave my legs weak and my mouth dry, but... well. It did. Still, I wasn't about to admit that. The moment this plane landed, I'd never see Nathaniel Carter

forward, ready to wrestle it off the belt. Before I could even grab the handle, someone lifted it effortlessly and set it upright beside me. "Tha-" I started to thank whoever it

he is," I answered, chin high. "I can take you there. Or straight to your hotel. Your choice.' "I'm not getting in a car with you," I said flatly. Honestly, wasn't that obvious? "Why not?" he asked, feigning innocence. "You