Black Hearted - An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Complete)

Black Hearted: Chapter 7

Solana stood by the hatch, silently begging the captain to release the door lock. She'd never felt anything like the toxic combination of fury and lust pounding through her veins and it made her head spin, threatening to drive all logic away. To combat the uneasy sensation, she concentrated on identifying the moment her life had imploded in the last twenty-four hours.

The holiday season had helped drag her from desperately poor to generally penniless. Without her pay from her last week at the Peppermint Stick and with no tips thanks to being stuck with one table of drunken snobs, she was still in the hole. Her bank account was overdrawn, and she was out of data on her pay-as-you go cell phone. On the ride to the airport this morning, her credit card had been declined, and she'd used her last twenty dollars to cover the cab fare. The money from this last-minute job would keep her going until she found something in LA.

Except that wasn't going to happen now.

The plane jerked as the ground crew placed the blocks under the wheels. "Finally."

How had she not recognized Jack Blackhorne for who he was at the club last night? He wasn't just a man with too much money; he was the man with all the money. Anyone not living under a rock knew Blackhorne & Caldwell and the company's sole owner. She never expected someone with his kind of fortune to slum it in an off the strip dive bar. Alfonso should have charged more for her services.

Unlike the evening before, Solana tried to play nice, accepted the smug bastard's orders, made him drinks with three ice cubes, not two or four, fluffed his pillows, ran up and down the aisle while his friend snored. She never saw the sleeping man wake, yet he still managed to drain three glasses of vodka. Pride firmly swallowed, she took every pain-in-the-ass demand Jack, no Mr. Blackhorne, produced.

With a background like his, including the tragic death of his parents in a plane crash, she'd expected Jack to take air safety seriously. It stunned her when he ignored the captain's orders to take a seat as they maneuvered through the turbulence. She was more shocked when she kissed him.

The door before her clicked and Solana cranked the handle, pushing the upper door open. Hot air rushed into the cabin, overtaking the cooler inside. With a tug of the cable knob, she released the stairs, kept twisting until they met the ground and locked the two doors in place. Purse and an oversized bag bearing the few personal items she cared to keep from her time in Vegas in hand, she sped down the stairs, not able to get off the plane fast enough.

Two limos sat at the foot of the stairs. Solana scooted past them, the asphalt hard against her ballet slipper shoes. By the time she reached the small terminal, perspiration was forming on her forehead in the unseasonably hot weather for the middle of January. Not bothering to stop, she flew through the mostly empty lobby full of leather couches and pushed out the other exit.

Back in the heat, she searched for a way off the property. Any other time she'd come through here, she'd simply arrange for a ride share to pick her up and take her to her abuela's house in east LA. Now she didn't have any money and would have to rely on public transportation. There had to be a bus around here somewhere.

The afternoon sun beat down on her as she hiked toward the main street, her hand searching the bottom of her purse for loose change. She wasn't sure she even had enough to pay for the bus ride. This private airport catered to the rich, and not many of those resorted to taking the bus home. A weather-beaten bench caught her eye, and she beelined for the ancient structure.

Once upon a time there may have been a bus schedule on the post by the bench, but the cracked and clouded glass covering the faded paper made any remnant of a timetable impossible to decipher. Solana inspected the white dollops on the worn wood and decided she'd stand rather than risk pigeon poop transfer onto her one good skirt. In hopes of scoring more jobs on these short luxury flights, she'd put on her best clothes this morning to impress the client.