Daisy's Daddies, Book 2

Chapter 27. Rick

Bria's POV

I step on the plane and sit next to Mr. Simmons. He smells like authority. Like someone you shouldn't fuck with.

I fasten my seatbelt and decide to call Daisy one more time.

Straight to voicemail.

I decide to not leave a message this time. She must be pretty busy.

"You a nervous flyer?" Mr. Simmons asks.

"A little." I give him a small smile.

He gives me a reassuring smile. He reaches out and opens his hand.

"I don't bite. Squeeze as hard as you need. I can take it." He offers.

I look at his hand then back at him.

"I'm okay Mr. Simmons." I decline. He's my boss. I can't seem weak in front of him, or he will send me right back.

"Call me Rick." He states.

"It's okay Mr. Simmons. I think it's best if we stay professional." I say.

He's handsome. But you can't mix business with pleasure. I work for him.

Mr. Simmons nods and leans back in his seat.

The plane starts to move. My insides do flips, and my nails dig into the arm rests.

Mr. Simmons once again offers his hand, and I don't refuse it. Not even thinking about it I grab it and squeeze.

He doesn't wince or pull away; he lets me use him for comfort.

Once the plane is up in the air, I let go. I feel my nails pull out of his skin. I know I had to of hurt him!

"I'm so sorry sir. Are you okay?" I ask worriedly.

"I'm fine." He laughs. "Are you feeling a little better now?"

I shyly nod in embarrassment.

Not only did I lose my memory after already meeting him, but it also seems like I've lost all common sense! Why couldn't I control myself?

"Can I get you two anything?" A flight attendant asks.

"Two Bombay Sapphires please." Mr. Simmons orders.

The lady walks away making sure to sway her hips.

"You'll like it." He states.

I look at him confused. "What do you mean?"

"The drink. It's dry gin but it's good." He smiles.

My pulse quickens.

"Oh, no sir. I'm not old enough to drink. Thank you though."

He chuckles in amusement.

"You can drink with me. Trust me, nobody will ask questions while you're with me. And I won't get you drunk." He reminds me.

"Okay Mr. Simmons. One drink." I smile.

The flight attendant returns with our drinks, and he passes a cup towards me.

I carefully take it and swirl it around. I bring it to my nose and cringe at the strong smell of alcohol radiating off of it.

Mr. Simmons takes a sip like it's nothing, a regular drink.

I try to copy him, but the taste is so strong, my face scrunches in disgust.