Chapter 41 Thirty Thousand Feet
The next day, the morning sun was barely shining through the heavy curtains when Elena started packing.
Her hands were still a little shaky from the previous evening's rollercoaster of events. She didn't know where they were going, and she didn't know what to wear for a weekend with a man who was half-husband, half-stranger.
Elena threw a few sundresses, a pair of jeans, and some loungewear into a leather duffel bag.
She was standing in front of the mirror, pulling on a simple white ribbed top and high-waisted linen trousers, when the door opened. She didn't have to turn around to know it was Julian. .
He was dressed down today, black jeans and a dark polo shirt that made his arms look even larger. He leaned against the doorframe, watching her.
"You're ready," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I think so," Elena said, turning to face him. She felt suddenly nervous. "Julian, about last night... with Eva. I don't know what you said to her, but thank you."
Julian walked into the room, stopping just a few inches away from her.
The smell of his cologne filled her senses and she almost inhaled deeply. He reached out and let his fingers graze the side of her neck, right where the skin was still a little sensitive.
"I told you," he said, his voice dropping. "I take care of what belongs to me. You don't ever have to beg your sister for anything again. Do you understand?"
Elena looked up at him. The intensity in his blue eyes was overwhelming. For a second, she forgot about the basement, forgot about the secrets, and just felt the heat coming off him. "I understand."
"Good." He grabbed her heavy duffel bag with one hand as if it weighed nothing. "Let’s go. The car is waiting."
They walked downstairs together where the butler and maids were moving around, and Clinton was standing by the front door, looking a bit surprised.
"We’re heading out for the weekend," Julian announced to the staff. His voice was loud and clear. "It’s an impromptu trip. We aren't to be disturbed unless the building is literally on fire. No calls, no business, no updates on the Vance Group. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Mr. Thorne," the head butler said, bowing slightly.
Clinton stepped forward to take the bags, but Julian shook his head. "I’ve got them. Just get the car ready, Clinton. We’re heading to the private terminal."
"Yes, sir," Clinton said, looking between Julian and Elena with a curious expression.
The drive to the airport was quiet. Elena stared out the window, watching the Chicago skyline disappear.
She felt like she was leaving a war zone behind, but she also knew the peace was fragile.
Julian sat beside her, his hand resting on the seat, his fingers occasionally brushing against her thigh and every time he touched her, even through her clothes, she felt a jolt of pleasure.
Goodness! She was really sex starved!
When they arrived at the private terminal, a sleek white jet was waiting for them on the tarmac.
Elena had flown private before with her father, but this felt different. This wasn't a business trip. This was a getaway with a man who had seen her at her worst and still wanted to be alone with her.
They boarded the plane, and the interior was all cream leather and dark wood. Julian led her to a wide, plush seat and sat across from her.
"Can I get you something to drink?" a flight attendant asked as the engines began to whine.
"Just water for now," Julian said, his eyes never leaving Elena.
As the plane began to taxi toward the runway, Elena felt her phone vibrate in her pocket and her heart did a slow, painful roll. She pulled it out, hoping it was just Mandy or a news notification.
It was a text from Francis.
“The clock is ticking, Elena. I want to see you tomorrow at the same place with the package, or the first clip goes live. Don't test me.”
Elena froze. The blood drained from her face, and her breath caught in her throat.
"Elena?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't. She felt like if she opened her mouth, she would scream or throw up.
"Elena, look at me," Julian’s voice was louder now.
She felt the plane lift off the ground, the stomach-churning sensation of ascent matching the panic in her chest.
She barely noticed Julian getting out of his seat. He knelt in front of her, his hands gripping the arms of her chair.
"What is it?" he demanded. "Are you afraid of heights?"
She nodded mutely, grabbing the excuse without a second thought.
“You went pale the second that phone buzzed. Give it to me."
"No," she whispered, her fingers tightening around the device. "It's nothing. Just... family stuff. Eva being annoying."
"Eva isn't bothering you anymore," Julian said, his eyes narrowing. "I made sure of that. So who is it?"
Elena didn't respond. She just stared at the seatback in front of her, her mind racing.
She had to meet him tomorrow. But she was on a plane to who-knows-where. How was she going to get back? How was she going to get away from Julian?
Suddenly, Julian’s hand moved. He didn't snatch the phone, but he moved with such speed that she didn't have time to react. He took it from her hand and stood up.
"Julian, give it back!" she cried, reaching for it.
He didn't look at the screen. He didn't even check the notification. He just looked at her. "We had a deal," he said. "No phones. No work. No family. Just us."
"I need that phone, Julian! It's important!"
"Nothing is more important than this weekend," he said. He walked over to his own travel bag, tucked her phone deep into a side pocket, and zipped it shut. Then he did the same with his own phone.
"You can't do that," Elena said, her voice trembling. "You can't just cut me off from the world."
"I can, and I am," Julian said. He moved back to her, but instead of sitting in his own chair, he crowded into hers. He pushed her back against the leather, his body weight pinning her in place.
"Julian, move—"
He didn't move, he leaned down and captured her lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was possessive, intense, and meant to silence every thought in her head.
Elena fought it for a second, her hands pushing against his chest, but then the sheer pleasure of it won her over. She let out a soft moan, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
He pulled back just an inch, his forehead resting against hers.
"I told you," he whispered, his eyes burning into hers. "For the next forty-eight hours, you don't belong to the Vance Group. You don't belong to your sister. And you certainly don't belong to whatever ghost is haunting that phone."
He kissed her again, slower this time, his hand sliding up to cradle her jaw.
"You belong to me," he murmured against her lips. "Focus on that. Only that."
Elena felt a tear slip down her cheek.
She was terrified. Francis was going to ruin her, and she was trapped at thirty thousand feet with a man who was slowly stripping away every defense she had.
But as Julian held her, his heart beating a steady rhythm against hers, she realized she didn't want to fight him anymore.
She closed her eyes and let the world below disappear, even if it was only for a few hours.