Hired a Gigolo, Got a Billionaire

Chapter 194 Annabelle's POV "Ladies and gentlemen, due to weather conditions, we have not received clearance to land and will be diverting to another airport. Please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened, as we will be crossing an area of severe turbulence. Thank you for flying with us." I hated flying. Always had. I had long believed that if birds were given wings and humans weren't, there was probably a reason-and that reason was we're supposed to keep our feet firmly on the ground. And please, don't start with the whole "planes are statistically the safest way to travel" thing.

The last person who had tried to convince me that I was more likely to die in an elevator accident than a plane crash only succeeded in giving me elevator anxiety too. Which was extremely inconvenient when one was about to start working on the top floor of a corporate skyscraper. I shut the little airplane window, doing my best to ignore the chaos outside as I tried to focus on breathing properly. In through the nose, out through the mouth. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Don't panic. I'd never been to England before, but I'd heard it rained constantly.

If that was true, shouldn't they have invented some sort of... I don't know, rainproof airport by now? Because either the British didn't mind getting struck by lightning mid-flight, or they actually found it fun to bounce around inside a flying tin can. I must have let out a tiny squeal when the plane lurched hard, jerking me upward even though I was strapped in tight. Before I realized it, my hand had shot out and grabbed the one belonging to the man sitting beside me. "Afraid of flying?" he asked, his voice rich with a beautiful English accent. Also known as the sexiest accent on earth.

bit more than a little," he said with a soft laugh, and I was forced to glance his way. Not that I hadn't noticed him before-eleven hours in business class beside this man had made that impossible.

He was tall, easily six foot two, which made him at least half a head taller than me and I wasn't exactly short. His body was lean but strong under that perfectly tailored suit, not the bulky kind that screams "gym addict," but the kind that makes you wonder just how toned he looks under that shirt. And

you're from?" A nervous laugh escaped me. When I was studying literature, they always warned that "real people don't talk like the books," but this guy could've

shook my head and went back to my breathing routine-inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. No panic. "Work." "Oh? And what kind of work do you do?" "Family business," I said, allowing myself a small smile, because if there's one topic that could distract me

the heir to the company, and now... it's my turn to shine. Oh, and it's also a great chance to improve the language. I'm trying to lose the accent." "I like your accent," he said, his gaze lingering on me in a