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.

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. "Call me." And just

to scold us, but her expression softened instantly when she recognized him. "Oh! Mr. Carter. Uh..." Her cheeks flushed pink. "If you could, please return to your 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

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

smooth talk so easily? Okay, 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 again. And

the moment my massive, ridiculously heavy red suitcase appeared on the carousel. Just looking at it made my back ache. Why hadn't I gone to the gym at least once this year-okay, maybe twice? When it finally slid into view, I stepped 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.

you a ride, if you want." "No, thanks," I said quickly with no hesitation whatever. "Your company driver's waiting for you at Heathrow, right?" "Yes, he is," I answered, chin high. "I can take you there. Or straight to your hotel. Your choice.' "I'm