SLOANE’S POVLook, I’m three glasses of champagne deep and so fucking wet I’m probably leaving a slick mark on this leather seat.

I don’t even care. Let the whole first-class cabin know what my boss does to me just by existing.

Brad’s been staring at me for twenty solid minutes. Good. I wore this tight black dress and no bra for one reason: to make him suffer.

He's sitting across the aisle, Mr. Brad Carter, CEO, looking like a fucking GQ model in a five-thousand-dollar suit.

For six months, he's been all business. Professional. Distant. "Ms. Rivera, have those reports on my desk by noon." "Ms. Rivera, reschedule the investors'...