Ashlynn's POV:

     Some person— who really thought they ate, said that it life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. Well, unfortunately for me, I currently had a lot on my plate and none of it were delicious lemons.

Hence the reason why I'm thirty-three thousand feet above the ground, in Julian's private jet, flying to New York where he's based so we could get married.

     Julian Kings being fucking loaded was an understatement, and if I knew the adequate adjectives to measure his fat wealth, I would've used them at this juncture. The size and interior of his private jet spelt rich and class in bold, highlighted letters.

     "A drink?"...