Bad Breakup: Billionaire’s Club Book 2
She was going to yell “Bomb!” on an airplane.
She had to.
It was the single way to get the plane to turn around, for CeCe to find an escape route from the awful man sitting next to her. He’d been staring at her for three hours twenty-two minutes and forty-six seconds. Forty-seven. Forty-eight—
Okay. The precise timing wasn’t important.
But the heavy weight of his gaze was smothering her, a stifling cloud that threatened to make her insane. And it wasn’t any worse than his smell, all spicy and male. It floated around her, making her toes curl.
He was the same as before.
She wanted him.
Despite it being six years since she’d seen him. Despite what he had done.
Cecilia’s body still wanted Colin’s with a longing that was so intense it was almost scary.
Her lady bits wanted her to tug him up from his seat by the tie—a new addition, as she’d never seen the man in a suit—drag him up the aisle, and lock him in the ridiculously small bathroom to have her merry way with him.
Hence the bomb threat.
Which, obviously, she couldn’t make.
Not that Colin McGregor would care he was ruining it for her. He crushed dreams, smashed hearts, tore tender emotions to shreds.
He was her Godzilla, and she was the decimated city.
Had been the decimated city.
Now she was rebuilt. She was stronger, her heart reinforced with rebar and steel, and she didn’t give one damn for Colin McGregor.
Damns to give or not, she still didn’t want him within arm’s reach and so shortly after takeoff, she’d risen and discreetly asked the flight attendant if there was any way she could switch seats, only to receive a regretful glance and an apology as the flight was completely full and all of the first class seats were occupied by couples or families traveling together.
She’d even started to ask about moving back to economy, thinking to make someone’s day by offering them a seat by the gorgeous Scot, but the flight attendant had looked so harried that Cecilia had relented.
She knew they had a job to do and that she was getting in the way of it and while she also didn’t want to be a pain in the ass, her current situation was truly untenable.
Her breath caught, and she found her eyes drawn to the stormy blue of Colin’s.
And she stared again, utterly entranced before she remembered how it had all ended.
Her in a white dress.
It had always been like this, Colin’s gruff words winning her over. They were unexpected from him—he was typically so reserved and taciturn, and freely given as they were, his words chipped away at any defenses she managed to erect.
The hurt of those memories—of Colin so angry, her so broken—helped shore up her resolve.
“Don’t say things like that,” she snapped and started to pop her earbuds back in. Her friends at home had filled her phone with a slew of romantic audiobooks and she decided that she much preferred fictional heroes at the moment.
Colin had already broken hers twice.
She wasn’t looking for a round three.
But before she had the chance to insert the earbud, his fingers gripped her wrist. “Don’t ignore me,” Colin said, all high-and-mighty, all arrogant, rich Scottish duke.
Well, she wasn’t a little girl anymore, wasn’t a fresh-faced recent high school graduate taking a summer trip, wasn’t even a slightly disillusioned college dropout. No. She was more experienced and at twenty-six she knew she’d had enough of wealthy, powerful men.
“You don’t belong here.”
“If you were worth anything at all, your parents wouldn’t have disowned you.”
She’d been so naïve, so stupid, so . . . completely in love.
And he’d destroyed her.
What was the saying? Fool her once and shame on him, but fool her twice and shame on her?
Shame on her. For being a fucking idiot. For putting herself out there. For being a glutton for punishment.
“Let me go, Colin,” she said, yanking at her wrist until he was either forced to release her or make a scene. He chose to let her go. Of course he did. Because McGregors didn’t make scenes. They functioned in the background, skulking, stalking, waiting for the moment their prey faltered and they could pounce.
And to show her that he was still in control, that he was stronger than her and was only loosening his grip was because he wanted to, Colin did it slowly, sliding fingertip by fingertip free, dragging them across her skin and raising goose bumps in their wake.
“I already did that once,” he said, putting his arm back onto his armrest. A lock of jet-black hair fell across his forehead as he leaned in to meet her eyes. “And it was the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Twice,” she whispered, her throat tight, her heart pounding. There was an invitation in his gaze. He would accept her. She could crawl into his arms, get lost in an embrace that made her feel sheltered from anything bad in the universe.
Except with Colin that peaceful, protected feeling never actually lasted.
That was why he’d broken her so completely the second time.
So she ignored the invitation in his eyes, turned her back on him again, and tried to pretend that she didn’t feel like crying.
Her once in a lifetime adventure was off to a brilliant start.