Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
His dark eyes narrow. “Entiendo, señora.” He nods. “Lo que no entiendo es por qué tiene que hablar tan alto. No soy sordo.”
I shoot a look over at Captain Klein, but he’s laughing with his new friends. Ugh. Can this day get any worse?
“I”—I point to my chest—“need you”—I point to his chest—“to fly me to Costa Rica. Now.”
My finger is once again pointed to my chest and his eyes linger at my breasts again. Oh my God. This is why I’m after a mature man. They don’t do this.
“Costa?” he says slowly and in a thick accent.
“Rica,” I finish.
“Costa Rica?”
“Yes, Costa Rica.”
I cannot believe this moron is going to help fly a plane.
“Costa,” he says again. “Rica.” He practically purrs the “R” and makes a great show of enunciating. I get the slightest feeling he’s making fun of me.
“Right, so I need you to get a move on it,” I grumble as I snap my fingers. Then, I mutter under my breath, “Asshole.”
His jaw clenches. “¿Besas a tu madre con esa boca sucia?”
Dammit, we’re getting nowhere.
“Let’s try this again,” I start, but Captain Klein walks over to us, intervening.
“Allow me to translate,” Captain Klein says. “Go on.”
The way they exchange smug looks irritates me. I have seen it with enough men in the boardroom at RT Corp to know how they see me. A young, rich woman without a brain. I have more brains than both of these idiots combined. Hell, give me a manual and I can figure out how to fly the damn plane myself.
“Your company gets paid a lot of money to fly people like me to our destinations,” I seethe. “I won’t be talked down to or disrespected. Furthermore, I will not waste any more of my day begging for you to take me to freaking Costa Rica!”
The lounge goes silent at my meltdown.
Quickly I swallow down my irritation and purse my lips.
“No disrespect, ma’am,” Captain Klein says, “but the flight has been slightly delayed.”
His dark-eyed co-pilot smirks.
“Why?” I demand. “Was someone taking too long on their phone?”
“CZ thinks—”
“CZ?” I snap my eyes to the dark-eyed man’s nametag again—C. Zaragoza—and wave off the captain. “You can’t be serious. You’re not letting him”—I point at the co-pilot—“dictate our schedule, are you? Who’s the boss around here, huh?”
“Rodrigo,” Zaragoza offers, his lips tugging at one corner.
“Let me speak to him.”
“You can’t—” Captain Klein starts.
Oh hell no. It’s time to pull out the big guns.
“I most certainly can and will. All it takes is one call to my daddy and—”
“Rodrigo no sabe inglés.” Zaragoza shrugs.
Ignoring him, I glare at Captain Klein. “What did he say?”
“Rodrigo doesn’t know English.”
“For fuck’s sake!” I cry out.
Captain Klein laughs and walks off. Just walks off.
“Rodrigo,” Zaragoza growls, stepping closer to me until I feel his body heat warming my already sweaty flesh, “doesn’t know English because he’s a category two hurricane in the Pacific.”
Perfect. Freaking. English.
Anger melts away to embarrassment.
“You lied, you bastard,” I hiss, hating that my carefully constructed world trembles at my feet with one stupid encounter with an asshole.
“No, you assumed, lady.”
Our eyes are locked in a furious battle of wills. I want to shove him and remind him of who I am. That he can’t treat me this way. I’m Sheridan freaking Reid. My neck is burning red from a combination of shame and fury. I’m not used to such lack of control. And in a matter of moments, he’s ripped all control away from my cold, hard grip.
“Enjoy your flight,” he sneers, turning on his heel and walking away. “I hear Costa Rica”—he makes sure to roll his “R” in an obnoxious way—“has beautiful beaches. Adiós, mujer.”
Yeah, adiós, asshole.
Chapter 2
Camilo
Infuriating woman.
I’m rankled at the way she spoke to me and I can’t shake it.
Of course Carson fucking notices. He notices everything.
“She got to you,” he says in awe. “That’s a first.”
Letting out a snort, I ignore him as we begin our flight pre-check. The Embraer Legacy 650 is a luxurious super midsize jet with a bitchin’ tech savvy cockpit. I love this damn plane.
“She didn’t get to me,” I grumble. “She annoyed the fuck out of me.”
“No,” Carson says, glancing my way, “Lawton annoys the fuck out of you. Viper girl embarrassed you. It pissed you off. Admit it, hotshot.”
“I can’t stand people like her. They walk around like their shit doesn’t stink. We’re nothing but lowly people to service them and do their bidding.”
“But you thought she was hot.”
I glower at him. “In a snotty bitch kinda way, yeah.”
“All it takes is one hit.”
“What?”
“One hit?”
“One hit of what?”
“One hit from a complicated girl unlike the rest.”
“And then what?” I challenge. “People like me don’t fuck people like her.”
“No, but guys like us get brought to our knees by girls like her.” He flashes me a crooked grin. “Ask Krissy. The rest is history.”