Once the door of the private jet slides open, I am blessed with a view of the limousine waiting for us. The chauffeur in a black suit is standing by the side, a hand on the door handle, ready to open up. I chuckle at the sight, I have never had a chauffeur, I don’t even have a car and I can’t help but think about how much my husband is worth.

Brandon’s hand comes around my waist to steady me as we walk down the short stairs and a small smile flits to my lips. As soon as my feet lands on the pavement, I tap his shoulder. His...