“A few reasons. The most obvious being that you were a stranger. I don’t bring random women into my home.”

“I get that. What’re the other reasons?”

“Your job is another.”

Scrunching my nose in offence, I say, “You told me that it didn’t matter what I do for a living.”

“It doesn’t. It’s honest, but let’s face it, pussycat, it’s not exactly something you shout from rooftops. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how hard you work to keep it a secret. Even my brother knew nothing about it. I bet you haven’t even told your parents, have you?”

My already declining mood plummets with the mention of them. I choose a flippant response in order to suppress the swell of emotion that threatens to suck me down. “Well, since they’ve been dead for years, I’d say the chances of them finding out are slim.”

“Shit.” Rebel’s expression scrunches up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“How could you?” The fact that we know next to nothing about each other despite all the time we’ve spent together hangs like a giant red flag waving between us. It’s apparent to me that we can’t continue on this path like this much longer. The time has come to erase all the secrets dividing us. It’s the only way if we expect to make this work.

“So, the hotels?” I ask, needing to get us back on the topic of conversation.

Clearing his throat, Rebel picks up his bag and motions with a tilt of his head for me to follow. “The first time I saw you dance, I had just returned from a trip. I knew Ransom was home and I didn’t feel like company, so I stopped to have a drink. You were...” He pauses, his shoulders rolling forward as he sets his suitcase by the front door and searches for the right words.

“You were memorizing.” Turning to face me, his expression wills me to understand him. “I’m not the kind of guy that picks up women in bars, let alone strip clubs, but there was something about you. I knew I had to have you.”

Removing a set of keys from the charcoal suit coat draped over the back of a side chair, he continues. “I got the hotel rooms because I didn’t want what we did bleeding into my personal life.” Returning to the door he stops, and with his hand on the knob, he casts me a tense look. “It wasn’t because I was embarrassed by you or what you do. I like my privacy. No one save Ransom and my parents have ever been to my home.”

“What about Florence?” The sound of her name coming off my tongue is so bitter it makes me want to spit.

He shakes his head. “Not even her. And yes, I know she has a key, but only because she owns the building. I’ve never personally invited her inside. Not once.”

Well, color me confused. Did she just let herself in on a whim that night then? I find it unlikely. “I’m sure you’ll understand when I tell you I find that hard to believe,” I say, casting him a doubtful look.

Dropping his hold on the knob, Rebel faces me head on. His thick arms fold across his chest and his eyes hold mine, making me feel like a bug under a microscope. “Explain.”

“What is there left to explain?” I ask, my voice rising an octave. “I saw you, Rebel. I saw you and her together and I know it was you because Ransom was there, too. Even you have to admit the evidence is pretty damning.”

“Yes, it is,” he agrees. “But you don’t know the full story. Unfortunately, neither do I. All I can offer you right now is assurances that I’m not the kind of man who cheats. You should also be aware by now that I’m not a man who lies.”

I can’t deny that I’m disappointed that he’s still incapable of providing me the answers I’m looking for, but I acknowledge what he has given me.  “You are many things, Rebel, but I have to agree with you there. As much as it pains me to admit it.”

Dropping his arms, a self-satisfying smile appears on his face. “Well, for once you’re not being a total pain in my ass. Quick,” he says, swinging the door open. “Let’s get out of here before the wind shifts.”

My lips twitching at his uncharacteristic joke, I breeze past him. “I hope you bought traveler’s insurance, Mr. Scott.”

***

Boarding the plane was the easy part. I’ve never been on one before. Having read some racy billionaire love stories, I half expected for Rebel to charter us a private plane. Something flashy and high class, with a private suite for us to have wild, crazy sex in.

Instead, he’s booked us first class on a jumbo jet. We have reclining seats and I’ve been given the one by the window. I am beyond thrilled with the accommodations.

Regardless of what Rebel’s salary is, it’s better than anything I could have afforded for myself. It’s an absolute treat...for someone who likes flying.

Despite the excellent service and the view, I am beyond terrified. I’d just as soon not look out the window because I’m pretty sure seeing the world hundreds of feet below me is not going to make me any more comfortable.

“How often do you fly?” I ask Rebel in a poor attempt to relax my racing heart.

He’s leafing through a magazine with a photograph of an ancient artifact on it. “A few times a month.”

Wow. “Do you ever get nervous?”

“What’s there to be nervous about? It’s the safest form of travel.”

He’s answering my questions so matter of fact, I wonder if he’s really even hearing me. It doesn’t matter anyway, I decide. I just know I need to keep talking or something bad is going to happen. Can hearts explode?

“You know that’s probably just a lie travel agencies tell to get more business. I mean, we’re hurdling through the sky in a giant tin can. If we go down, we’re dead.”

His black gaze flips up. He’s amused. “Are you scared, pussycat?”

I scoff. “What’s there to be scared of?” I ask sarcastically. “I mean, what are the chances one of the engines will blow up? And I’m sure they remembered to refuel before takeoff.” But what if they didn’t? Blood pounds in my ears and my breathing grows labored. How the hell long is this flight, and is it too late to get off? We’re soaring several thousand feet in the air, but I’m sure someone on board has a parachute in their carry-on.

“You won’t need a parachute,” Rebel assures me, and I realize that I’ve just said all of that out loud. Reaching into my lap, he gathers my hand in his. “If the plane crashes, I’m sure they’ll have enough safety vests to go around. If not, I don’t mind sharing.”

My eyes shoot open wide. “I forgot about drowning.”

He chuckles. I’m so glad he finds my terror entertaining. “We’re not flying over any bodies of water, and we’re not going to crash. Everything is going to be fine.”

Lifting his hand, he flags a stewardess down. “Can you bring us a couple glasses of something strong? My girlfriend’s nerves are shot.”

My jaw drops. Stunned by the label he’s given me, I almost miss the woman asking me if this is my first time flying. Too worked up to find my voice, I nod.

Once we’re alone again, Rebel catches the look on my face and says, “What?”

“Your girlfriend?”

“Don’t get too excited,” he says briskly, turning the page on his magazine over. “It’s just a label that makes for a smoother explanation.”

My expression falls and I slide my hand out from under his. A label? From fuck buddy to “label.” Not exactly an upgrade.

The stewardess is back in minutes, handing us a glass each of amber liquid. I’m impressed that she was able to peg Rebel so well. It’s exactly what he would have ordered. As for me, I’m more of a beer girl. I don’t attempt to hide my disappointment, though whether it’s due to the drink or Rebel’s comment, I don’t know.

“Drink. It will help you relax,” Rebel says gruffly. Placing two fingers on the bottom of my glass, he pushes it toward me. Holding his gaze, I down the scotch, hating the smooth burn that travels down my throat and into my chest.

With an approving smile, he returns to his magazine and sips at his own drink. Within minutes, I feel the weight of the alcohol spread to my limbs. Taking a risk, I rest my head lightly on Rebel’s shoulder. When he doesn’t reprimand or reject my advance, I increase the load until my head is fully supported. I may not like him much right now, but he makes a good pillow.