My Brother's Billionaire Best Friend - Max Monroe Page 0,113

was located. From my viewpoint, I could see the way his hand rested on his thigh, his long fingers tapping out the beat to whatever music filled his ears. I had the urge to backtrack my steps just so I could see his face and take inventory of his handsome features—his strong jaw, full lips, and warm blue eyes.

Somehow, my brain had already memorized his most striking features like this was someone I would see more than once in my life.

Before my feet could move an inch, a passenger cockblocked me from engaging in another ten-second ogle session.

“Miss,” a middle-aged woman called my attention from the last row in first class. “I am supposed to be in Birmingham by tomorrow morning. I have an important work meeting. I need you to make sure I have a flight available immediately.”

Oh, man. It was already starting.

I walked the ten steps it took to get to her row, the bottoms of my heels crinkling against the carpet of the aisle, and stopped right beside her seat. “We’re very sorry for the inconvenience.” I erred on the side of apology first. “But the weather conditions are no longer safe for us to be in the air. You’ll just have to be patient until we get to Atlanta, and a gate agent will be able to assist you with rescheduling your flight.”

“Do we really need to take this detour?” she questioned, and I watched as her hands adjusted and fiddled with the fanny pack strapped across her waist. “I think everyone on the plane can handle a little bit of turbulence in order to get to our planned destination.”

I wanted to let her know her idea of a little bit of turbulence didn’t actually account for hurricane-force winds and unpredictable storm paths, but I bit my tongue. “I understand your frustration, but I can assure you this is not a matter of convenience, but safety. Our top priority will always be the safety of our passengers.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed at the same time. “Oh, don’t give me that bullshit safety spiel. This early landing is going to fuck up my whole schedule. I’ll be lucky if I can find a flight to Birmingham by tomorrow night.”

I’d only been a flight attendant for about six months, but I’d flown the majority of my flights with Captain Billy. He had nearly thirty years of flying under his belt, so it went without saying that he didn’t just make an early landing for the hell of it. If he was landing us in Atlanta, it was because we needed to fucking land in Atlanta.

I looked at the woman, her blond hair resting high on top of her head in a severe, ballerina-style bun, her hazel eyes squinting in disdain, her fanny pack constricting her abdomen, and I put her in her place—via mental telepathy.

Listen up, Fanny Pack. I have no desire to fall thirty thousand feet from the air in a metal deathtrap just because you need to be somewhere, thank you very much. We’ll be landing in Atlanta, so just keep your mouth shut and your ass in your seat and deal with it.

Once I’d gotten that off my chest, and she still continued to stare at me like her eyes had the power to physically stab me, I proceeded to give her the sugary-sweet, RoyalAir “customer is always right” bullshit answer, but out loud this time. “Again, I’m very sorry this happened, but let me assure you this isn’t by choice or a matter of convenience. It’s for everyone’s safety. Air traffic control has requested that all planes within two hundred miles of our current location land as soon as possible to ensure the safety of everyone in the air.”

She blinked. Once. Twice. And then stared. She was still visibly pissed, and her hands vibrated with irritation as she readjusted herself in her seat and started rummaging through her fanny pack.

Instantly, I noted she no longer had her seat belt on.

God, could this lady just do as she was told?

We weren’t trying to be assholes here. We were trying to, you know, make sure no one died in the case of an emergency.

“I’m also going to have to ask you to take your fanny pack off and buckle your seat belt,” I instructed with a saccharine smile. “For your safety, of course.”

“This is my fanny pack.” She huffed out a breath, and her bangs billowed above her forehead from the forced air. “I’m not