Bound and Determined by Sierra Cartwright

they’d been a couple had been just that—an illusion.
     
    * * * *
     
    Jack was a master of understatement.
    He didn’t own a plane; he owned a jet. The plane was more than transportation, it was home and office and pub rolled into a luxurious package.
    She sank into a ridiculously soft oversized seat. It was more like an armchair than a standard airline seat. It didn’t hurt her backside, still a bit tender from his late night spanking—despite the fact he said her derriere wasn’t red. It might not look abused to him, but it felt a bit that way to her.
    She wasn’t really sure what she thought of the spanking. Being over his knee, his powerful hand falling on her exposed arse, had been more of a turn-on than she’d imagined, and she’d had high expectations from her first spanking. Still, she was annoyed. Why did he, of all people, have to be the man who finally gave her what she wanted?
    “The seat reclines.” Jack stowed her baggage in a small closet that had plenty of shelving. “A footrest will pop up as you go backwards. Much better for circulation.”
    She noticed there were no overhead bins on this plane, presumably so that someone as tall as Jack could stand comfortably.
    “Something to drink, Ms O’Malley?”
    She looked up as a middle-aged man approached them. He was a very good-looking gentleman, with a shock of silver hair and a quick smile. He wore an apron over his button-down shirt and navy-coloured slacks. “I’m Aonghus, and I’ll be taking care of you during the flight.”
    Another surprise. She expected Jack to employ young, sexy females. But a man…? She wished Jack weren’t so complex, wished she could pigeonhole him and dismiss him as being shallow. “Coffee?” she asked hopefully.
    “Use half a container of creamer,” Jack said as he shut the closet door. “And a full bag of sugar.”
    She scowled at him.
    “A bit of coffee with your cream?” the man asked.
    She smiled at the attendant.
    Jack took a seat next to her. “I’d pay good money to see a smile like that directed at me.”
    “You’ll be waiting a while.”
    She’d never travelled like this. In all her travel with the band, she’d never even had an upgrade to first class. She was accustomed to the least expensive seat on a plane, and it seemed she was most often miserably shoved into a centre seat, especially on transatlantic flights.
    Because she could, she stretched out her legs.
    “A pastry, ma’am?” the attendant asked, returning with her steaming cup of coffee. “We’ll have breakfast available as soon as we’re airborne, but in case you need something to hold you over…?”
    “We have croissants, I believe,” Jack said, raising a questioning brow in the man’s direction.
    “Chocolate and plain,” the attendant confirmed.
    Chocolate? She wouldn’t be dancing much in the upcoming days until she was back in Ireland and could get away from Jack by fair means or foul, and she’d already had several pastries. Really, she shouldn’t. But what the hell? She needed energy to deal with Quinn, and if breakfast had protein, it would cancel out the effects of the carbohydrate overload. Or that’s what she told herself. “You’ve talked me into it.”
    “Chocolate,” Jack told the man.
    The attendant smiled at her.
    “And I’ll have a bloody Mary.”
    She could easily get accustomed to this, she realised. Being treated like a princess suited her.
    Too bad there was no prince in the picture, only a very rich toad.
      Despite the fact she’d already had more than enough sugar, she accepted the porcelain plate with a pastry the size of a small country. Some people travelled with real silverware and china?
    She picked up the croissant and bit into it. Almost-liquid chocolate oozed into her mouth. Oh yes. Not only was the pastry gorgeous, rich, buttery and flaky, but it had been warmed. She could definitely get used to being treated like this.
    The captain came out of the cockpit to greet them.
    She