Chapter 22: Chapter: 22

ANDREA

“You're adorable when you're excited, a curious little thing too. I've never seen you like this,” he said, his voice sounded deep, low, and filled with amusement. I blushed.

“Sorry, you had to see me like that. I am naturally curious, and I didn't think I would get another opportunity to sit in a limo again.” I quickly bite my lips to keep myself from rambling. I've already said a lot. I was surprised to hear him chuckle.

“Don't apologize, it's only normal to be curious, Andrea. And let me assure you, as my PA, this won't be your last time in my limo.” His voice turned low and husky, and so close to my ear that I felt his hot breath. It made me shiver, and something low in my stomach twisted

“Besides, I do like the way your eyes light up with excitement. Makes me wonder what else you get excited about.”

I turned to stare at him, bringing my face so close to his, my heart rates spiked when his gaze lowered to my lips, lingering for a moment. Then he released my hair, his face blank, and I blinked.

Sometimes, like now, I wonder if the man is bipolar. Most of the time, he's dark, cold, and grumpy; other times, he's relaxed and fun to be with. But those times are rare and far in between.

Nick opened the bar and took out two glasses. He then poured some liquor inside. “Would you care for a drink, Andrea? Here.” He handed me one of the glasses before I could answer. The glass isn't more than a quarter full. I sniffed the glass; it's strong.

“It's scotch. Try it, you might actually find that you like it,” Nick said when he saw me scrunch my face. I nervously gulp the liquid down, swallow, and cough hysterically when it burns. Nick chuckled and patted my back.

“You are okay? Here, let me take that. Would you prefer a glass of soda?” He asked as he reached his hand to take the glass from me. What the heck did he take me for? And how old did he think I was? Five? I moved it away, determined to finish it all.

“No, no, it's okay, I will drink it. It's just I've never had scotch before, it's strong,” I said when I finally got control over my coughing fit and irritation, and took a sip. This time, slowly.

Nick helped himself to his drink, his dark, hooded eyes watching me closely. I could almost swear that he was laughing at me. But his face was impassive.

I fought the urge to squirm in my seat and concentrated on the drink in my hand, which I was beginning to understand was more potent than I had thought.

But just to prove I'm not a lightweight, I foolishly ask for a refill and Nicklaus kindly obliged.

Now, I'm kind of regretting it. My second glass’ effects were almost instant; I was beginning to feel hot, and drowsy. And the way Nicklaus was watching me was making me even hotter.

I would have blurted out and asked him straight away why he was looking at me as if I were a hot cup of chocolate he wanted to gulp down in one go.

Fortunately, that's when the car came to a stop before I could embarrass myself.

“We are here,” Nicklaus said. “you have five minutes to get your passport and get back here.”

Here? Where's here?

“Australia? But that can't be, wait…” I slurred. Fortunately, before I could ask what part of Australia we were in. He was already outside, chuckling.

“Come, Andrea, you're drunk, I'm afraid my limo can't fly, and even if it could. I don't think it would be able to reach Australia in the short time we'd driven from the office to your place.”

“Oh, you're right.” I giggled. Then frowned, shaking my head.

Nicklaus looked quite amused as he helped me out of the limo. I thanked the chauffeur again when I got out of the vehicle.

My mouth parted in surprise when I saw we were outside my building.

“How did you…?” I glanced at him then glanced back at my apartment building with narrowed eyes, then back at him again.

“How do you know where I live?” Nicklaus pinches the bridge of his nose.

“We haven't much time to waste, Miss McCain. Go get your passport and let's get going.”

I nodded, and I hurried into the building. Or at least I tried to, my moves were a bit unstable as I made my way up the stairs, and into my apartment.

When I entered my apartment, I headed straight into my bedroom and got my passports, then I decided I could hurriedly pack some of my essential toiletries.

I carried my weekender and began throwing some things inside, but my movements were slow—the effects of the Scotch.

Never drinking scotch again.

“I knew you would do this.”

I screamed/squeaked when I suddenly heard his voice behind me. He was standing in my bedroom door, his massive, broad shoulders blocking everything out of view, and he was scowling at me.

He takes a step, snatches the hand holding the passports, and stalks out of the room, dragging me along closely behind.

“Come on, let's go, we don't have the time for you to pack your things, I thought I made myself clear on that.” I felt like a child getting scolded for doing something wrong. We got back inside the limo.

The chauffeur drove for almost forty minutes. I thought we were headed to the airport, but when I finally raised my head from checking my Facebook account, I saw we were at a different tarmac.

My jaw dropped open like a fish when I saw the beautiful private plane we were traveling in. I've never traveled outside the US, and the first time I go to another country, I'm going by private plane. Talk about style.

Mr Montgomery turned and saw I was still seated inside the limo, nervous about getting on a plane for the first time. He held my hands and pulled me out of his car, then proceeded to walk with me up the stairs of the aircraft that had been lowered down.

My stomach was fluttering madly as his strong hand held mine, making me feel safe and protected. It also made me feel tingling all over. He didn't let go until we'd boarded the plane.

The interior of the plane was even more beautiful than its exterior. It's a beautiful luxury plane. It had twelve red leather seats in a row of four, a bar counter with assorted bottles of liquor, soft drinks, water, and stemware.

I stared wide-eyed at everything. Awe with the interior, I can't believe I'm in a private jet, that too with Nicklaus Montgomery.

“Come with me.” Nicklaus held my hand and led me to the back. We walked through a door, and my eyes widened. When I saw it, it was a big, beautifully furnished bedroom.

“The clothes I'd ask for are here.” My eyes fell on the three garment bags on the bed.

“Thank you,” I said, grateful. He only nodded, watching me in that dark way that never ceased to make me shiver. Then he glanced at the bed and finally turned to leave, with the door half-open and his hand on the knob.

“You can take a shower and change; the bathroom is that way.” Then he left.