The Billionaire Empire

“Can you move aside?” A rough voice came behind me. 

I was surprised, so I turned around to look at the man standing behind me in the line. “I’m sorry?” I say, while feeling flustered. “Did you want to get through?”

“No. I want these fucking idiots at the counter to hurry up. I’m going to miss my damn flight.” He sneers, and I can smell alcohol coming from him.

“They make me sick.”

I face forward again. Wonderful, a drunk guy in the check-in line.

Exactly what I need.

Heathrow Airport is filled with a lot of people. Bad weather has caused delays for most flights, and to be honest, I wish my flight was delayed too. Then I could go back to the hotel and sleep for a whole week.

I’m really not in the mood for any of this.

I hear the man turn around and start complaining to the people behind him, and I roll my eyes. Why are some people so rude?

For another ten minutes, I listen to him complain, grumble, and groan until I can’t stand it anymore. I turn to him. “They’re doing the best they can.”

“There’s no reason to be rude,” I snapped.

“What?” he shouts as he directs his anger towards me.

“Good manners don’t cost anything,” I mutter quietly.

“Good manners don’t cost anything?” he yells. “What are you, a schoolteacher? Or just a crazy bitch?”

I stare at him angrily. Oh, I definitely dare. I’ve spent the last forty-eight hours going through hell. I traveled across the world for a wedding only to watch my ex-boyfriend hanging all over his new girlfriend. I’m in the mood to take my anger out on someone today.

Don’t mess with me.

I turn back around as my anger starts rising.

He kicks my suitcase near my feet, and I spin around. “Stop it,” I snapped.

He steps right into my face, and I flinch from the smell of his breath. “I’ll do whatever I fucking want.”

I notice security officers entering the lounge while watching him. The staff must have seen what was happening and called for help. I force a smile.

“Please don’t kick my bag, sir,” I say sweetly.

“I’ll kick whatever I fucking want.” He grabs my suitcase and throws it across the airport.

“What the hell?” I scream.

“Hey,” a man behind us shouts. “Don’t touch her things. Security!”

Mr. Drunk and Disorderly throws a punch at the man who tried to help me, and a fight starts.

Security officers rush in from every direction, and I’m pushed backward while he swings punches and yells insults. Oh hell, I do not need this today.

Eventually, they manage to control him and lead him away in handcuffs. A kind security guard picks up my suitcase.

“Sorry about that,” he says apologetically. “Come with me.” He unhooks the rope blocking the line.

“Thank you.” I give an awkward smile to everyone still waiting in line. I hate skipping ahead, but right now, I honestly don’t care. “Great.”

I shyly follow him, and he takes me to a young man’s counter. The man looks up and smiles warmly.

“Hello.”

“Hi.”

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

“Take care of her,” the security guard tells the ticket agent. He winks at both of us and disappears into the crowd.

“Identification, please?” the man asks.

I quickly search through my purse, pull out my passport, and hand it to him.

He smiles when he sees the photo. Oh no, that has to be the worst picture ever taken.

“Did you see me on Most Wanted?” I ask.

“Maybe. Is that photo even you?” he laughs.

I smile, feeling embarrassed. “I hope not. I’ll be in trouble if it is.”

He enters my information into the computer.

“Okay, so you’re flying to New York today with a...” He stops typing and reads the screen.

“Uh-huh. Preferably not beside that man.”

“He won’t be going anywhere today,” he replies while typing incredibly fast. “Except maybe a jail cell.”

“Why would someone get drunk before coming to the airport?” I ask. “He hasn’t even reached the airport bars yet.”

“You’d be surprised by the things that happen around here,” he sighs.

I smile. This guy is nice.

He prints my tickets. “I upgraded you.”

“What?”

“First class, as an apology for him throwing your bag around.”

My eyes grow wide. “Oh, that’s really not necessary... honestly,” I stammer.

He hands me the tickets and smiles widely. “Enjoy your flight.”

“Thank you so much,” I say excitedly.

He winks at me, and I almost want to lean over and hug him. Of course, I won’t. I’ll just act as though things like this happen to me all the time.

“Thanks again.” I smile.

“You also have access to the VIP lounge on level one. Food and drinks are free there. Have a safe flight.” After one final smile, he looks toward the line. “Next, please.”

I walk through baggage screening with a huge silly grin on my face.

First class—exactly what I needed.

Three hours later, I walk onto the plane feeling like a celebrity. I never went into the VIP lounge because, well... I look terrible. My long dark hair is tied in a high ponytail, and I’m wearing black leggings, an oversized pink sweater, and tennis shoes. At least I fixed my makeup a little, so that’s something. If I had known I would be upgraded, I would have made more of an effort and worn something stylish instead of looking like a homeless person. But whatever... who cares? It’s not as if I’ll meet anyone I know.

I handed my ticket to the flight attendant.

“Just down the left aisle and then to the right.”

“Thanks.”

I look at my ticket and walk through the plane until I find my seat number.

1B.

Damn it, no window seat.

When I reach my seat, the man sitting by the window turns toward me. Large blue eyes meet mine, and he smiles.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” I reply.

Oh no... I’m sitting beside God’s gift to women... except he’s even more attractive.

I look like a complete mess. Whatever.

I open the overhead compartment, and he stands up.

“Here, let me.” He takes my bag and carefully places it inside. He’s tall, muscular, and dressed in blue jeans and a white T-shirt. He smells like the best aftershave ever made.

“Thanks,” I murmur as I run my hand through my ponytail, trying to smooth the tangles. Inside, I mentally kick myself for not wearing something better. 

“Would you like the window seat?” he asks.

I stare at him as my mind briefly stops working.

He points toward the seat by the window.

“You really don’t mind?” I ask with a frown.

“Not at all.” He smiles. “I travel all the time. You can sit there.”

I force a smile. “Thanks.”

That was probably another way of saying, I know you got upgraded, you poor homeless-looking woman, and I feel bad for you.

I sit down and look nervously out the window, my hands folded together on my lap.

“Are you heading home?” he asks.

I turn toward him.

Oh, please don't start a conversation with me. You make me nervous enough just sitting there.

“No. I was attending a wedding, and I have a job interview in New York before I go home. I’ll only be there for the day, and then I’m flying to LA. That’s where I live.”

“Ah.” He smiles. “I see.”

I look at him for a second. I should probably ask him something now.

“Are... you going home?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I nod, not knowing what else to say, so I choose the boring option and look back out the window.

A flight attendant comes around carrying a bottle of champagne and glasses.

Glasses?

Since when do airlines serve drinks in real glasses?

Oh, right.

First class.

I knew that.

“Would you like some champagne before takeoff, sir?” the flight attendant asks him.

I notice her name tag says STELLA.

“That would be lovely.” He smiles and then looks at me. “Make that two, please.”

I frown as she pours two glasses of champagne and hands one to him and the other to me.

“Thank you.” I smile.

I wait until Stella is far enough away.

“Do you normally order drinks for other people?” I ask.

He looks surprised. “Did that bother you?”

“Not at all,” I reply with a huff.

Damn this Mr. Fancy Pants for thinking he can choose for me.

“I do prefer ordering my own drinks, though.”

He smiles. “Then you can order the next round.”

He lifts his glass towards me and smirks before taking a sip.

He seems entertained by how annoyed I am.

I stare at him with a blank expression.

He could easily become victim number two of my sharp tongue today.

I’m not in the mood for some wealthy old man trying to tell me what to do.

I take a sip of my champagne while looking out the window.

Well, he’s not actually old.

Maybe somewhere in his mid- to late thirties.

Old compared to me, anyway.

I’m twenty-five.

But still.

“I’m Bash,” he says, holding out his hand.

Oh God.

Now I have to be nice.

I shake his hand.

“Hi, Bash. I’m Seraphina.”

His eyes sparkle with mischief.

“Hello, Seraphina.”

His eyes are large, bright blue, and almost dreamy.

The kind of eyes a person could get lost in.

But why is he looking at me that way?

The plane slowly begins moving down the runway, and I glance between the earphones and the armrest.

Where do these connect?

They look advanced, like the kind confident YouTubers use.

They don’t even have a wire.

I look around.

This is ridiculous.

How am I supposed to connect them?

“They’re Bluetooth,” Bash says, interrupting my thoughts.

“Oh.” I mumble, feeling foolish.

Of course they are.

“Right.”

“You haven’t flown first class before?” he asks.

“No. I got upgraded. Some strange drunk guy threw my bag across the airport. I think the man at the counter felt sorry for me.”

I give him a crooked smile.

He presses his lips together as if he finds it amusing and takes a sip of his champagne.

His eyes stay on my face as though something is on his mind.

“What?” I ask.