30 Days (Lost Love Trilogy #1) - Belle Brooks Page 0,36
suit heads back in the direction of the entry.
What’s happening?
Marcus stops right beside me. He opens the hatch above the seat and pushes his carry-on inside. It closes with a bang, causing me to jump. Casually, he lowers himself into the chair beside mine.
My stomach instantly knots. Marcus? Why isn’t Mr Klein sitting here? Did they swap seats? I’ll flipping kill him if they did. Two and a half hours beside Marcus will be torture, and now I’m beyond frustrated.
“Excuse me. What do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting ready for the plane to take off. Why?” His eyebrows rise.
“You’re not sitting here with me … are you?”
He checks his ticket. “Yes.” The corners of his mouth curl upwards.
“I’m confused.”
“Why?” He seems fine with this arrangement.
“Because I’m supposed to be sitting beside Mr Klein. That’s what Jasmine said. I’m supposed to meet him on this flight to talk about our time in Sydney.”
“Oh,” he mutters, amusement in his tone.
“Are you sure you’re supposed to be sitting here?”
He glances at his ticket again. “That’s what this says.”
“Well, I guess I’m meeting him there.”
“What?” His eyes narrow. “What are you playing at?”
“Nothing. This is horrible. Why you? I don’t know how to get anywhere. I’ve never been to Sydney before.” My mind is suddenly all over the place.
“Really?” His eyebrows arch again.
“No. Melbourne, yes. Cairns, yes.”
He suddenly laughs loudly.
“What?”
“I’ll help you. Don’t stress. You’ll have me.”
“I’m not stressed.” And I don’t want you.
“You look freaked to me.”
“Well, I’m not.”
“If you say so.” He pulls what looks like a National Geographic-type magazine out from the back of the seat in front of us.
“Why, God, why?” I question under my breath.
“Did you say something?”
“Nope.” I pull the seat belt around my waist and fasten it.
“Benjamin Bronson, long time no see,” Marcus says. I look up just as a thin and balding man stops next to us. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Well, if it isn’t Marcus Klein. How long has it been?”
As I hear the name Klein come from the mouth of this stranger, every bit of noise disappears, and I’m isolated in complete silence. What the actual fuck? He’s fucking Mr Klein’s son. This must be a joke.
“You’re joking,” I blurt out, shaking my head.
They both stop talking and shift their attention my way.
I glare at Marcus. Instantly, eye contact is broken.
“I’ll talk to you in Sydney, Ben.” He shakes the man’s hand.
“Yes, looking forward to it,” Ben adds before leaving.
Marcus’s head turns slowly to face me. “Abigail, what’s the matter?”
“Your last name is Klein?”
“Yes,” he replies innocently.
“You’re Mr Klein’s son, and you didn’t fucking tell me. Why?”
“What are you talking about, Abigail?”
“Who the fuck are you?” I yell as business class goes silent.
“Abigail, calm down. What has gotten into you? I’m Marcus Klein,” he says, “You know that.”
“No, I don’t,” I reply through gritted teeth.
“Now I’m the one confused. Honestly, what has gotten into you?”
My blood boils with anger. Every part of me wants to slap his face before fleeing this plane. “Who are you?” I snap again, this time through gritted teeth.
“You’re being silly,” he scoffs, staring at me. “You really don’t know?”
“No!” I spit.
I can see him thinking, and he seems as though he’s trying to place pieces of a puzzle into the correct order. What puzzle, I have no idea. He turns his head.
“So when you said before you thought I was sick …” He stops. “Okay, when you said you thought you were supposed to be sitting beside Mr Klein, you weren’t joking, that wasn’t a charade?” He stops again as I continue to throw knives at him with my glare. “Abigail, I’m Mr Klein, my assistants are sick, and you’ve been assigned to help me this week. I thought you knew this.” He tries to place his hand on top of mine, the one violently gripping the handle of the chair.
Quickly, I pull it away.
My heart stops beating. My lungs stop breathing.
This can’t be happening.
Friends
THIRTEEN
7th of November 2012
Stuck between a rock and a hard place: a classic summation of a fucked situation seemingly impossible to get one’s self out of. Right now, you’d think this would be the perfect way to explain the current situation I’m in. Yet, I’d prefer to go with: Abigail McMillian, stuck between the solid metal of a 747 aircraft and a handsome, yet masterful man of disguise.
“Abigail, speak to me.” Marcus’s tone is stern as I try desperately to draw air into my lungs.
Get me off this plane, my mind screams.
“Are you okay?” His voice quakes.
Turning