02. Mile High, page 25
part #1 of Up In The Air Series
anyone could forget meeting.
She saw my brow furrow as I studied her. She seemed to read my thoughts, and grimaced. “You
recognize me,” she said with a sigh. Her voice was soft and musical. She shot James an arch look.
“James, you’re in the ladies restroom, as you seem to have forgotten. Go wait outside. I’ll help your
Bianca freshen up so you two can make your escape. I’ll even make your excuses for you, but you need to
get out of this bathroom before you create a scene. Anyone could come in here at any moment.”
James kissed the top of my head before heading to the door. He cast me a worried glance but spoke to
Lana. “Don’t be long,” he warned.
She held out a chair in front of a vanity for me. “Sit down, hon,” she said. I complied, responding
automatically to the kindness in her voice. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-six, but she had an
almost maternal countenance, in spite of her bombshell looks.
I studied her in the mirror, but still couldn’t place her. “What do I know you from?” I asked her finally.
She had a huge, if fashionable, handbag, splayed out on the counter, and was digging through it
determinedly.
She cast me a wry smile. “I had a dismally short stint in modeling a few years ago. I wasn’t suited for it
at all, but people occasionally recognize me from some high profile covers I did. I only ever even got the
covers because my mother was a supermodel from the eighties.”
As she spoke I conjured up a memory of her in a tiny yellow bikini, straddling a surfboard for a very
famous cover of Sports Illustrated. My jaw dropped. “You were a supermodel yourself. You don’t
model anymore?”
She shrugged, her smile turning very self-deprecating. “It’s a fact that I’m much better at working for the
family business than I ever was at smiling for the camera.”
I studied the fascinating woman, happy for a distraction from the night’s drama. “What’s the family
business?”
She flashed a charming dimple at me. “Don’t hold it against me, but my family is also in the hotel
business. The Middletons are infamous competitors of the Cavendish family. Imagine everyone’s shock
when James and I met and became fast friends, over eight years ago.”
I wondered if friends could possibly be all that they were. How could two such outrageously good
looking people of the opposite sex be strictly friends? Especially if one of them was James…
She seemed to read my mind again. Her eyes widened on mine in the mirror and she vehemently shook
her head. “We have been strictly friends. We went out to dinner a few times when we first met. I think
James was toying with the idea of trying to seduce me, but it never came to that. He’s a man that knows
how to read women, and he knew I was unreceptive. And I must tell you, I’m quite relieved at the change
I’ve seen in him since he’s met you. I had thought, for the longest time, that James was as broken as me, if
for different reasons.”
“Broken?” I asked, completely drawn in by her candid manner.
She grimaced, but her fairytale lavender eyes quickly smoothed back into a smile. “I’m not usually such
an open book, but I can’t seem to help it with you. It makes sense, I suppose. You and I just have to be
friends. I adore James, and I adore you on principal just for being the woman to finally make him fall in
love.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
I didn’t correct her words, though they made me wince as though she’d hit upon a very tender subject.
Instead, I turned the focus back on her. “Why did you say you were broken?”
She smiled. It was the saddest smile, unarguably heartbreaking. She just had that effect. What she felt
showed on her lovely face, and it was impossible not to feel at least a little of it with her.
“Since I can remember, I’ve been in love with a man who can never love me back. In fact, he’s in love
with someone else, though it took me a long time to see that. My heart’s never been able to move on, so,
much to my parents horror, I seem to be immune to the opposite sex. Even to a man as beautiful as James.
I tried to be attracted to him, at first, but it’s no use. I think that it was after that when I knew not to bother
anymore. I’m the type of woman who will only ever fall in love once. Unfortunately, that one time
happened to be with a man who could only ever see me as a sister.”
“That’s impossible,” I told her. “You could have any man you wanted.”
She just shook her head, finally pulling a brush out of her monstrosity of a designer bag. She began to
carefully pull the brush through my mussed-up hair. “Lovely hair,” she murmured to me almost absently.
“You and I could pass for sisters, really,” she added. I thought it was a hugely flattering compliment.
“How many women have naturally blond hair nowadays? You’re the only other one I know. But, no, I
certainly cannot have any man I want. And I only ever wanted one. Akira Kalua. I shamelessly threw
myself at him and the best I got was a pity fuck, pardon my crass language, but that’s the best term for it.”
“Akira Kalua,” I repeated back, surprised at the name. It sounded vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t
place why. I thought the name sounded very Hawaiian. I had several Hawaiian friends, and there was a
large population of them working for my airline.
She smiled almost wistfully, as though just hearing the name brought back bittersweet memories. “I’m
an island girl at heart, if you can believe it, though I was banished from paradise a long time ago. God, I
hate New York.”
I was more than a little surprised at that admission. I had just assumed, with her family wealth and
incredible looks, that she would fit right into the big apple. “You’re from Hawaii?” I guessed.
She nodded, smoothing my hair with a comforting hand before digging back into her bag. “Born and
raised. My dad fell in love with Hawaii when my mother was pregnant with me. Maui, to be specific.
By the time they were ready to live in a different house, I wasn’t ready to go with them. They had to leave
without me, and my adopted Hawaiian family wound up having me more than my actual parents did.”
“Tell me about Akira,” I prompted. She just smiled, shaking her head. She brought a makeup wipe to
my face, wiping off the errant mascara that had bled under my eyes. I wanted badly to hear her story now
that she had given me a few juicy tidbits. From the beauty of her face and the sadness in her eyes, I just
knew it was a tragic love story that would be captivating.
“Another time, perhaps. You need to join James before he causes a scene. We have to hang out
sometime soon, though. James told me you live in Vegas. I spend a lot of time there, managing the family
property. It’s only five minutes from the Cavendish property, in fact. I’ll get your number from James.
Have lunch with me?”
I nodded. I had met her minutes ago, but I felt like we were already friends. It was more than a little
unusual for me. “Will you tell me about Akira then?” I asked, strangely curious about this lovely
woman’s love life.
She gave me an exasperated look, digging into her handbag again. She handed me a tube of clear
lipgloss. “Just use your finger. I swear it’s never touched my lips. It’ll make your lips look less
bruised. And yes, I’ll tell you about Akira when we meet for lunch, if you really want to know. I never
talk about him, so maybe it’ll be therapeutic to get it off of my chest. But you have to tell me about you
and James.”
I liked Lana, so I agreed as I dabbed on a bit of lipgloss with my finger, handing the tube back to her.
She smiled at me. “Good as new. James will want to get out of here asap. He’s in a rare state. He was
expected to say a few words, but I’m familiar with the charity, so let him know I’ll step in for him. I’ll
call you sometime this week.”
When I stood she enveloped me in a tight hug. I hugged her back, more than a little surprised by the
affectionate gesture.
“God, I love that you’re as tall as me. I don’t feel like a giant around you. We have got to hang out,” she
said with a smile as she pulled back.
James was practically pacing impatiently as we stepped out of the bathroom. He grabbed my arm in a
death-grip as soon as I was within reach.
“Go on. I’ll make your excuses. Oh, and James, send me Bianca’s number. We’re going out to lunch,
hopefully sometime this week,” Lana told him.
He gave her a grateful, if tense, smile. “Thanks, Lana. I owe you.” He began to lead me away, not
pausing as he spoke. “The car is being brought ‘round. We can make a quick escape. I need to get out of
here.”
Becoming almost twitchy with impatience, James led us out of the ball and into a waiting town car in a
dizzying blur of activity. We exited into a tiny back alley where I saw no sign of photographers.
I sensed James withdrawing as the car began to move. When I gazed out the window I felt him studying
me but when I turned back to look at him, he was gazing out of his own window, stone-faced.
I had endless questions that I needed answers to. I wanted to know what Jolene had lied about and what
had been the truth. I hoped to god not all of it had been true. I wanted and needed, to know, but I was
almost scared to hear his side of it, scared that our relationship wouldn’t survive the answers. And it
didn’t help that I had no idea where to even begin.
We were nearly back to his building before I broke the silence. The feet that stretched between us on the
seat felt like miles.
“You said you’d never been in a serious relationship before, but Jolene claims that you were with her
for a year and two months, and that you continued to see her often, up until six weeks ago. Was she
lying?”
He was silent for an unnervingly long time, his face unmoving as he stared out the window. “We’re
almost to my building. We’ll talk about this inside.”
I didn’t like that answer. I knew that the only answer I would have liked would have been a quick and
unhesitant, ‘yes, she was lying.’
The driver took us to the underground garage elevator and we disembarked from the car silently. James
took my arm in a proprietary manner as we walked to the elevator, but didn’t even touch me once we
were alone. It made a little ball of terrible black dread tie a knot in my belly.
He was deeply upset, and it had to do with what had happened in the bathroom. Was he upset about the
questions I would ask? Was he troubled about how I would respond to his answers? Or was it something
worse? I was starting to worry that it was something even more terrible, like he was about to break up
with me altogether. Had the whole relationship idea finally sank in for him, and now he was realizing that
it wasn’t what he wanted? Had seeing the lovely Jolene made him realize his mistake? A part of me had
been expecting him to do something like that all the while.
“Can we talk in our bedroom?” James asked, finally breaking the silence as we neared the top floor of
the building.
I studied him. He wouldn’t even look at me. I thought I might become physically ill. “We don’t have to
move this quickly, James. We shouldn’t even be talking about moving in together yet, let alone actually
doing it.” I’ve lost all of my pride, I realized. I was trying to reassure him that we could take a step back
instead ending it altogether. Anything to keep him from saying what I feared he was thinking.
He sent me an almost stricken look, but quickly looked away, making me think I’d imagined it. “We’ll
talk in our room,” he said. I wasn’t reassured.
The elevator reached his floor, and he led me up to his room without a word. I saw from a clock we
passed that it was just past eleven o’clock. I was shocked that it wasn’t any later than that. A lot had
happened in the last few hours. I thought of Lana Middleton. She had been a welcome distraction. “Do
you know anything about Lana and Akira?” I asked James.
He still didn’t look at me. “Akira?” he asked. So he didn’t know, either.
“Never mind.”
He was walking first up the stairs to the floor of his bedroom. “Lana is the worst workaholic I know.
She makes me look like a slacker with my seven day work weeks. Everyone who knows her loves her,
but even the socializing she does is for work.” His tone was impersonal as he mapped Lana out.
“She asked me to go to lunch,” I pointed out.
“That means she really likes you. I’m glad. She’s a very good friend, and she’s very discreet and
nonjudgemental, so you won’t have to guard your words with her.”
I blinked, wondering if he meant that I could discuss us with her. “Does she know about your…
preferences?” I asked finally.
“Not exactly. She knows that I have atypical sexual proclivities, and she knows that I used to sleep
around too much, but I doubt she’s heard many more details than that. But I think she would be a good
person for you to talk to, if you need that. As I said, she can be trusted with secrets, and she won’t…
berate you for your own preferences. That’s just not her way.”
He had basically given me the go ahead to tell Lana about our BDSM activities. I was grateful that I
could, though I still didn’t know if I would. I hadn’t even discussed it with Stephan, and I rarely kept
even the most minor of details from him. I decided that it might be easier to tell a woman like Lana than it
would be Stephan. He was so protective of me that I wasn’t sure how he would react to the things I let
James do to me.
Our brief distraction technique came to an abrupt end as we reached his bedroom. He hovered in the
doorway, ushering me inside. I glanced back at him. He was acting so unlike himself that it raised every
hair on my body.
He just watched me for long minutes, as though trying to get answers just by looking. His face was
shuttered, but his hands shook a little as he loosened his silken navy bow-tie.
“Take off your clothes, Bianca.” When he finally spoke, his voice was dangerously soft.
I shot him a defiant look, my chin lifting. “We can’t put this off, James. We need to talk.”
He nodded. “Yes. Take off your clothes and get on the bed. We’ll talk then.”
I watched him closely, trying to decide if it was a strange joke.
His nostrils flared. “Now,” he said. There was a fine tremor in the hand that pointed to the bed.
Finally I complied, driven by his strange mood and the desire to know exactly what it meant.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
I stepped out of my shoes as I approached the bed, shrugging out of my floaty gown with a few easy
movements. My tiny lace thong was a distant memory between one step and the next.
I sat on the very edge of the bed, facing him. I was naked, but I didn’t feel as self-conscious as I usually
did. I had too many other things to be anxious about.
“Lie down in the center of the bed,” James ordered softly, still framed in the doorway. He was still
fully dressed in that devastating navy tux, only his tie mussed, though it still hung undone around his neck.
I obeyed, but it didn’t come as naturally as it normally did. Sheer force of will made me shift my body
onto the spot where he’d ordered it.
“Spread your legs and raise your hands over your head,” he continued.
I shot him a wild look. He was getting waaay off track. “James,” I began.
“Do it,” he said with a new trace of steel in his voice. I closed my eyes, nearly shuddering as I obeyed
him. I wanted answers, but I couldn’t lie to myself. I wanted this just as much.
He only moved after I’d complied, striding towards the bed and using the restraints hidden at each
corner of the bed to secure me swiftly. As he stared at my restrained body, some of the tension seemed to
drain out of him, right before my eyes.
He loomed over me from the side of the bed for a long time before he finally spoke. “Now you can’t run
away if you get upset. Ask me whatever you need to. I’ll answer all of your questions, and you know I’ll
be honest, but you don’t get to run away if you don’t like the answers.”
I was looking directly at him, but I could see my chest rising and falling with rapid breaths out of the
corner of my eye. If his tactic had been to distract me from the questions that troubled me, he’d succeeded
beautifully. Now that I was naked and bound, nothing seemed as important as what he could do to me, not
even those answers.
I mentally shook myself, making my mind move back to the discussion at hand with great effort.
“Was Jolene lying, James?” I finally asked, dreading the answer.
He ran a restless hand through his dark golden hair, mussing up it’s artful evening styling. He began to
pace, shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket and tossing it onto a chair. I was ready to scream by the time he
answered.
“She wasn’t lying. She was my contracted submissive for about that long. But we didn’t see each other
‘often’ after that. We met up maybe six times a year, if that, and generally when I was between subs. I
