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Sophia Adams has lived her whole life sheltered from the world. Her parents are workaholics, she goes to an all-girls school, and isn’t allowed outside the boundaries that have been set for her. So when she secretly gets a passport and packs a bag the day it arrives, she thinks all of her dreams are finally coming true. That is, until the airport security pulls her out of line and she discovers that maybe she’s more innocent than she thought.
Lincoln Gray owns everything he could ever want. And that includes the dark-haired beauty he catches sight of. One look at Sophia and he’s making sure she’s the carry-on he’s taking to his next stop. She’s too naive to travel the world alone, and luckily for her, he’s the one to protect her. He’s never been told no, and it’s not about to start now. How can a woman resist being given all she’s dreamed of?
Warning: This short story is insta-love faster than a Nighthawk (It’s the fastest plane in the world. Trust us, we Googled.) Make sure your tray tables are in their upright and locked position and your laptop is in a bin by itself. We’ve got a filthy little quickie ready to please!
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I hold my passport tight in my hand, feeling like it’s my lifeline. It’s my chance to finally see the world. I only got it in the mail this morning, and afterwards I was practically running out the front door almost forgetting to say my goodbyes. Not that there was even anyone to say goodbye to besides Larsa. She’s been my nanny and caregiver my entire life, but she’s more of a mom to me than my own mother. She kissed me on both cheeks before reluctantly letting me go with tears in her eyes.
Both my parents are workaholics. They try to find time for me, but they always seem to love their jobs more. The own a law practice together, and I’m pretty sure I was a mistake late in life—one they thought for a moment they might want or could handle, but it turned out their money handled me for them.
I never went without though. I went to the best all-girls private boarding school in the States and had a trust fund that would never leave me lacking my heart’s desire. My parents want me to use it for college and maybe even become a lawyer like them. I’ve heard them say it many times over dinner—when they could manage to make it home in time for one. That was the natural plan for things, but they never asked me what I wanted to do. My parents talked at me, not to me.
Being like them was the furthest thing from what I wanted. Something about college scared me. I was always worried that maybe I’d get wrapped up in it and end up like them. I didn’t want to be a workaholic, but in all honesty, I don’t know what I want to do with my life. The one thing I know is I want some freedom. I want to see the world outside of my parents’ home and the walls of my school.
I want to see the places I’ve read about in history class. Meet boys and have love stories like the ones I’ve read in romance novels. The only outside world I know is from books or movies. We never traveled when I was growing up, and this is finally my chance.
I bite my lip as I look up at the departures screen to see what flights there are and where they are going. When I see one heading to Paris in four hours, my heart does a little leap. It’s the city of love.
I make my way to the counter and buy a ticket that costs a small fortune. The lady directs me to where I need to go next since I don’t have to check any bags. I only packed my backpack because I didn’t take much with me. I wanted to be able to get around as easily as possible. I have a checklist of places all over the world I want to go, and I know I can’t lug around a million things if I want to do that.
I wait in line to get through security, my excitement growing with each second. This is really happening. I’m going to Paris. I can’t believe it.
“Hey,” I hear someone say from behind me. I turn to see a boy who looks a few years older than me. He’s cute with short blond hair and blue eyes. He’s smiling at me, and I see a small dimple in his cheek.
“Hi,” I say back, feeling a little awkward.
“Where you headed?” he asks, glancing at the ticket in my hand.
“Paris.” I can hear the dreamy sigh in my voice. The millions of love stories I’ve read about this city dance through my head.
“Me too.” He gives me a little wink. I feel myself blush, not used to this kind of attention and feeling even more awkward.
“Next!” is barked at me, making me jump.
I turn back and see the line has moved and I’m up next. I rush up to the security box, handing the man my passport and ticket. He takes them from me and looks down at them.
The man looks intimidating. His head is shaved and the white shirt he’s wearing is stretched tight against his body. It shows off the muscles that could take almost anyone in a fight. Tattoos run down his arms, and I see them move with every flex of his hands. He puts my ticket and passport down, and I watch as he puts a finger to his ear. It’s then I see a small earpiece. I think he’s listening to someone. His eyes shoot up to me and stare for a moment. His cold eyes bore into me, and then they snap away.
He stands. “You need to come with me,” he tells me, picking up my passport and plane ticket.