It’s a good thing social media is ninety-nine percent fake, because every photo of Luka and I together might show us smiling and in love, but behind those forced grins is pain and anger, and that’s not the kind of content my followers want to see. We pulled off the happy couple image like pros, of course. No one will ever know what went on—or didn’t—behind the closed doors of our luxuriously romantic Paris hotel.
Except maybe for Candy.
She’s back at Luka’s side now, bending low to hand him a drink. Her breasts nearly spill from the unbuttoned top of her uniform blouse. His arm twitches, as if he were going to touch her but managed to stop himself. They laugh again, and this time he does reach up toward her. My stomach drops as his fingers brush the dip of her back. She leaves again, swaying her curvy hips and giving a coy glance over her shoulder.
This is a different flight attendant than we had coming here, and she and Luka obviously have history. She’s also much less professional and way more brash, with her hair teased big, her huge fake lashes, her lips a seductive glossy pink. I’m sure the cleavage on her uniform probably isn’t standard…it’s almost as if she dolled herself up on purpose.
Well, if she’d hoped to get Luka’s attention, it worked. He tilts his head slightly and keeps his eyes glued to her as she works in the small galley area at the front of the plane.
She’s preparing a snack and making a big show of it, turning just right so her breasts are angled for Luka’s viewing pleasure. Dropping something so she has to bend over and retrieve it. While she’s at it, she fusses with a strap on her shoe, making slow work of it, running her fingers over her ankle and lightly up her calf while chatting with Luka in a low purr.
Now my face flames hot. Fuck this. I’m about to get up when Candy glides from the galley with a tray in her hands. Her friendly smile does nothing to hide the fire in her eyes. She knows what she’s doing and isn’t afraid to hide the fact that she’s after my husband.
“Sparkling water, cucumber sandwiches, vanilla cinnamon-coated dates?”
I don’t move. I simply look up at her. She bats her lashes and gestures at my tray table.
“Shall I just leave your plate right here, then?”
All I can do is glare. “Go ahead.”
She sets down the plate and glass and the folded cloth napkin with zero fanfare. No giggling, no boobs in my face. With a final blink, she spins and heads back to Luka, almost immediately going low with her cleavage near his arm. The plane makes a hasty bump and she grips the back of Luka’s chair, falling into him. Of course, his hand goes around her waist to steady her, then runs slowly to the rise of her ass. And out come the giggles.
Enough’s enough.
He might have gotten away with fooling around in Paris, on our honeymoon of all things, but this is too close to home. And who knows, Candy might even be the type of person who’s eager to sell their dirty celebrity gossip to the highest bidder. We’re trying to improve our public image, not muddy it even more.
I whip off my seatbelt and go to Luka, coming up behind him and sliding my left arm over the back of his chair as I bend to speak in his ear. He looks at me with a slight jerk, as if I’ve taken him by complete surprise. Candy doesn’t have the good sense to get off my husband and I’m inclined to push her, but I don’t.
“Honey,” I croon next to his ear. “You’ve had your fun, but it’s time to stop now.”
He looks at me like he has no idea what I’m talking about. “Time to stop what? We’re just having fun. Are you jealous?” His voice is pointed, hard and loud enough that Candy can certainly hear him.
“No.” I straighten up and cross my arms. “But you’re making a mistake.”
He grins with an amused huff. “Why do you care so much?”
I draw back and shake my head. I’ll never admit to him how I really feel. “I don’t.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Your image is the problem. You have a reputation to uphold. For DRM.”
Scoffing, he looks at Candy while he speaks. “No press here to see anything, Brooklyn.”
I can’t believe he’s being so blasé about this. “You really think messing around with an employee is a good idea? All hell will break loose if that gets out. You can’t trust just anyone.”
“That’s rich, you telling me who to trust.” He leans back in his chair and spreads his knees, beckoning the flight attendant to come over. “The thing is, Candy and I go way back. She’s definitely earned my trust.”
In one swift motion he pulls her onto his lap, his hand resting high on her thigh. She smiles, her arm around his neck as he gives me a lazy look, the glint of venom in his eyes.
“Should we tell my wife about all the fun we’ve had together? How I inducted you into the Mile-High Club? Maybe we should let her in on some of the things two people can actually do in a tiny airplane bathroom.”
Candy looks up at me, her eyes roving up and down my body. “We could always show her…” she says, and then she directs her next words to me. “Do you like to watch?”
I cross my arms tightly over my chest to hold back the rush of emotion that suddenly overtakes me. I haven’t let myself cry in days. Not when Luka went out that night in Paris. Not after he rejected me repeatedly on our honeymoon. Not when I fake smiled in all of our vacation photos. But now it’s like I can’t hold it back anymore. He wants to flaunt his sex-toy flight attendant in my face, well, there’s nothing I can do about that.
But I’ll be damned if he’s going to see me crack.
I turn away without another word, grab my bag, and slip into the back bedroom where I shut and lock the door.
Then I drop down onto the bed, and cry.
Brooklyn
Chapter 6
I barely remember getting off the plane in Chicago and into the back of the limo. After crying myself into a state of hollowed-out exhaustion in the airplane’s back bedroom, I had washed my face and curled up on top of the covers, somehow finally falling asleep despite wondering what Luka and Candy were doing together out in the flight cabin.
No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t stop imagining her on her knees, sucking him off the way I’d planned to do. She’d definitely stolen my moment and ruined all my plans. To be fair, Luka may well have derailed me himself by not cooperating—but I’ll never know for sure. And now, as I stare out the window at the view of the city passing by, my mind has even more horrible mental imagery to play over and over. Candy giving my husband a blow job in the middle of the aisle. His hand cupping her ass. Her, riding his lap in the seat, head thrown back.
The weirdest part was that when I actually fell asleep, I dreamed that Luka and I had forgiven each other. He’d come home from a long day at work with a bundle in his arms, and when I ran to meet him I realized he was smiling and holding something out toward me…
“Is that…a puppy?” I’d asked.
“What do you think?” he’d responded with a grin.
The man who despises pets had a little gray terrier in his arms. It had the cutest wiggly stub of a tail, a bow around its neck, and a spot of white fur under its chin.