Clutching the sheets to her chest, she scoffs. It’s clear she hasn’t spotted my handiwork yet. “You can’t order me to go to Europe.”
The fuck I can’t. “I just did.”
Visibly exasperated, she presses the heels of her hands to her eyes. “You knew the deal, Phoenix.”
Yeah, but I also know her stubbornness is no match for my fortitude.
Time is of the essence, though, so I pull out the big guns.
“If you don’t go, I’ll tell Vic and Chandler to put a stop payment on their checks.”
Her mouth drops open in shock before she glares hate fire at me. “What the fuck is your problem, asshole?”
“I don’t have one because you’re going to Europe. End of story.”
She pounds the mattress with her fist, and I revel in the way it makes her tits bounce. “Why?”
I don’t want to ruin my plans or lie to her, so I snap my jaw shut.
Glancing up at the ceiling, she shakes her head, laughing without humor. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Four days.”
Those baby browns narrow. “One.”
She’s adorable when she’s being difficult. Like a baby shark testing out their teeth for the first time.
“No one can go to Europe for one day, Groupie. The flight alone is over ten hours.” Leaning down, I cup her cheek. “Three.”
Despite my compromise, she swats my hand away. “No.” Sadness flickers in her eyes and she frowns. “I need to go home. I miss my dad.”
An uninvited spasm hits me square in the chest. I know she does. But I also know he’d want this for her.
I pull out the only thing I’ve got left in my arsenal.
“Three days and I’ll never bother you again. Promise.”
Expression softening, she searches my face, no doubt trying to decide if I’m being genuine or if I’m under the influence. “What’s going on?”
She’ll find out soon enough.
Knowing she won’t get anything out of me, she sighs. “Fine. But you better keep your promise.” She makes a face. “Actually, I can’t. My passport is at home.”
Fuck. That’s gonna be an issue, but I can still make it work.
Money is the universal language, and I have a fuckton of it. I’ll offer some courier in Florida a few grand to grab the passport and hop on a plane to Cali. Problem solved.
“I’ll arrange for someone to pick it up and we’ll leave later.”
A lot later.
I’ll be tired as hell by the time we get there, but I can sleep—and fuck—on the plane.
Lennon chews her bottom lip, pondering. “I’ll call Mrs. Palma and run it by her, but if I sense any hesitation on her end, I’m not going.”
I don’t foresee an issue there. They might not be blood, but it’s clear they’re family.
She reaches for her phone but freezes when she notices the clock. “I can’t call her now. It’s four fifteen in the morning.”
“Which means it’s seven fifteen in Florida.”
Me and words don’t get along, but I’ve always been good at math.
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she brings her cell to her ear.
“She’s probably still sleep—oh, hey, Mrs. Palma. I’m sorry to call you so early.” She rubs her forehead. “No, my flight is still on time, but…” She glares at me. “Look, you can totally say no, but is there any way I can go to Europe for three days?”
There’s a long pause. I’m gearing up to offer the woman anything she wants, but I don’t have to, because Lennon says, “Are you sure it’s not a problem?” A smile spreads across her face. “Thank you so much. I seriously owe you. Oh crap. Before I forget, can you grab my passport out of the filing cabinet in Dad’s office?”
While she finishes her phone call, I step out of the room. I don’t have a personal assistant despite everyone telling me I need to crack down and hire one.
However, I do know a sly teenager who wants to make some money.
God fucking help her—and Skylar—if she uses any of it to buy herself breast implants.
A half hour later, Quinn’s somehow managed to arrange everything. It’s costing me double the amount I was prepared to shell out, but it’s worth it.
Lennon’s reading something on her phone when I walk back into my bedroom.
“Everything’s set. The courier should be at your house in ten minutes.”
Yawning, she places her cell on the nightstand. “In that case, I’m going back to sleep.”