A young widow, Danielle Dunne, comes to London to live with her brother until she is back on her feet. She is accompanied by her little daughter, Hallie.
Danielle, still not shaking off her beloved husband's untimely and tragic death, is unsure of h...
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September 6th, 2016.
Danielle looked out the window of the private plane George had chartered out to the restricted area of Highgate Airport.
The first time she was on a private plane, she was treated like a queen. As equal to superstar status. It was surreal and nice, but ... she knew who she really was.
She was still an ordinary, though pretty, British woman who became recognizable for her relationship with a famous artist.
Attacked on all sides, she looked at George, who was holding her hand and staring affectionately at her. She smiled at him, feeling a warm affection for him, though their relationship was largely a layout.
But if it made her happy, she was willing to accept it. George kissed her tenderly on the lips and whispered:
— It will be a wonderful week and no one will disturb our happiness.
—I hope so — Danielle said, and he replied forcefully,
— I will take care of it.
The plane finally took off and took off from the tarmac. Danielle took a deep breath, but felt safer knowing George was sitting next to her. He squeezed her hand tighter and whispered:
— I'm with you, darling.
The flight was supposed to take four hours, so it wasn't supposed to be long. The interior of their plane was modern and luxurious - for Danielle it was something new, for George it was the norm.
They were sitting in the compartment separating them when George said:
— Get some sleep, and then ... — He smiled mysteriously and kissed her shoulder. Danielle felt the skin prickle, knowing there was a bed behind them.
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—I don't want to sleep — she said, and he raised his eyebrows and smiled like a rascal. —But George ... here's the crew, David and ...
—Nobody's coming in here — George looked at her and licked his lips. — And I haven't fucked you on the plane yet, I must have this.
—It won't be comfortable for me — she began, but he put a finger to her lips.
