The thought causes a shudder to run through me, and Julian notices my involuntary movement. “Are you cold?” he asks, stepping toward me. “I can have the temperature adjusted.”
“No, I’m fine.” Nevertheless, I enjoy Julian’s warmth as he pulls me toward him and rubs my arms for a few seconds. I can feel the heat of his body seeping through my clothes, chasing away the memory of those awful months when I thought I’d lost him.
Wrapping my arms around Julian’s waist, I hug him fiercely. He’s alive, and I have him with me. That’s all that matters now.
“We’re ready for takeoff.” An unfamiliar male voice startles me, and I let go of Julian, looking back to see the blond driver standing there, watching us with an unreadable expression on his hard face.
“Good.” Julian keeps his arm around me, pressing me against his side when I try to step away. “Nora, this is Lucas. He’s the one who dragged me out of the warehouse.”
“Oh, I see.” I beam at the man, my smile wide and genuine. This man had saved Julian’s life. “It’s very nice to meet you, Lucas. I can’t even begin to thank you for what you did—”
His eyebrows arch a little, as though I said something that surprised him. “I was just doing my job,” he says, his voice deep and slightly amused.
The corner of Julian’s mouth lifts in a faint smile, but he doesn’t respond to that. Instead he asks, “Is everything ready for us at the estate?”
Lucas nods. “All set.” Then he looks at me, his face as expressionless as before. “It’s nice to meet you too, Nora.” And turning around, he disappears into the pilot’s area at the front.
“He drives and flies planes for you?” I ask Julian after Lucas is gone.
“He’s very versatile,” Julian says, leading me toward the plush seats. “Most of my men are.”
As soon as we sit down, a strikingly beautiful dark-haired woman comes into the cabin from somewhere in the front. Her white dress appears to have been poured on her curves, and with the full layer of makeup she has on, she looks as glamorous as a movie star—except for the tray with a champagne bottle and two glasses she’s holding in her hands.
Her gaze lands on me briefly before sliding over to Julian. “Would you like anything else, Mr. Esguerra?” she asks as she bends down to place the tray on the table between our seats. Her voice is soft and melodic, and the hungry way she looks at Julian sets my teeth on edge.
“This should suffice for now. Thank you, Isabella,” he says, giving her a brief smile, and I feel a sudden sharp stab of jealousy. Julian told me once that he hadn’t fucked anyone else since meeting me, but I still can’t help wondering if he had sex with this woman at some point in the past. She looks like a bombshell, and her manner makes it clear she would be more than willing to bring Julian anything he wants—including herself, naked on a silver platter.
Before my thoughts can travel any further down that road, I take a deep breath and force myself to look out the window at the slowly falling snow. A part of me knows that this whole thing is insane, that it’s illogical to feel so possessive about Julian. Any rational woman would be overjoyed to have her kidnapper’s attention deflected away from her, but I’m no longer rational when it comes to him.
Stockholm Syndrome. Capture-bonding. Traumatic bonding. My therapist had used all of these terms during our few brief sessions together. She had been trying to get me to talk about my feelings for Julian, but it had been too painful for me to discuss the man I’d thought I lost, so I stopped going to her. I did look up the terms later, though, and I can see why they would be applicable to my experience. I don’t know if it’s as simple as that, though, or if it even matters at this point. Naming something doesn’t make it go away. Whatever the cause of my emotional attachment to Julian, I can’t turn it off. I can’t make myself love him any less.
By the time I turn back to face Julian, the flight attendant is gone from the main cabin. I can hear the jet engines roaring to life, and I automatically fasten my safety belt, as I’d been taught to do my whole life.
“Champagne?” he asks, reaching for the bottle at the table.
“Sure, why not,” I say, and watch him deftly pour me a glass.
He hands it to me, and I sit back in my spacious seat, sipping the bubbly drink as the plane starts rolling.
My new life with Julian has begun.
Chapter 3
Julian
Sipping from my own glass, I study Nora as she looks out the window at the rapidly shrinking ground below. She’s wearing jeans and a blue fleece sweater, her small feet clad in a pair of chunky-looking black sheepskin boots. Uggs, I think they’re called. Despite that off-putting footwear, she still looks sexy—though I far prefer seeing her in summer dresses, her smooth skin glowing in the sun.
Watching her calm expression, I wonder what she’s thinking, if she has any regrets.
She shouldn’t. I would’ve taken her regardless.
As though sensing my gaze on her, she turns toward me. “How did they find out about me?” she asks quietly. “The men who kidnapped me, I mean. How did they learn of my existence?”
At her question, my entire body tenses. My mind flashes back to those hellish hours after the attack on the clinic, and for a moment, I’m gripped by that same volatile mix of burning fury and paralyzing fear.
She could’ve died. She would’ve died, if I hadn’t found her in time. Even if I’d given them what they wanted, they would’ve still killed her to punish me for not giving in to their demands sooner. I would’ve lost her, just like I lost Maria.