Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 88115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88115 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Adam breaks the kiss, breathing heavily against my lips. He chuckles as he leans his forehead against mine. “I have to be able to walk out of here, you know.” I grin; I love knowing I have this effect on him. “I will be there for your big birthday bash—your big two-one. You know I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“I will be marking the days off my calendar, Adam. You’ll call or text me every day, right?”
He gives me his megawatt smile, and I melt. “You know it, babe. Now, go on, get.” He playfully smacks my ass and I jump back with a squeal.
“Okay, okay.” I reluctantly turn around and make my way to the ticket counter. There is no longer a line, since I’ve procrastinated so long. I walk right up to the flight attendant, who presents me with a genuine smile I don’t feel like returning. I look down, digging into my purse in search of my ticket. “There you are,” I mumble to myself, and I hand it over to her. I swallow down the large lump beginning to form in my throat as I watch the attendant scan my ticket under the sensor.
“Have a great day, and thank you for flying with us,” she says cheerfully. My feet are frozen in place, so I have to force myself to take a few steps forward. I hesitate and turn around, needing a last glimpse of Adam. He forces a smile and holds up two fingers, wiggling them, indicating I’ll see him in two short months. I blow him a kiss and reluctantly turn around on my heels, dragging my feet down the narrow hallway. When I reach the threshold of the airplane, I steal a deep breath then trudge forward.
The one thing I am looking forward to this summer is that my father has planned an extravagant twenty-first birthday celebration for me. For those who couldn’t afford their own airplane ticket, my father is picking up the tab. Trust me—he can afford it. He’s owned his own global empire since way before I was born.
When people ask me what Dad does for a living, I take a deep breath and begin to rattle off a memorized spiel: his company offers innovative equipment, products, and services in applied sciences and medical diagnostics. Are you thinking, “Huh? Right now?” Yeah, exactly what I say! I don’t think I will ever be able to wrap my head around what it is he really does.
When people are further intrigued, I have another memorized pitch that should confuse anyone who isn’t a science professor. I toss in big words such as molecular biology, genetic analysis, proteomics, and so forth. You get the idea. I have no clue what I’m saying either, but it appears to put a lid on people asking me any more questions.
Dad doesn’t trust the digital age either, even though he has to use it for his line of work. Being the CEO of his own company, he goes to great lengths to protect his privacy and abhors any aspect of the government who uses their resources to infringe upon it. He even went so far as to tell me I couldn’t have a Facebook account. Really? I found myself creating one anyway, under an alias. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?
I make my way down the crowded aisle looking for my window seat. I’m sure you’re wondering why a rich kid like me isn’t flying First Class. Better yet, why aren’t I flying in a private jet? It’s simple; I’ve never wanted to become the spoiled rich brat. I’ve had plenty of exposure; growing up in elite boarding schools, I had to rub elbows with those types of people. Geez, the things I dealt with—I swore an oath to myself I would never allow myself to become one of those shallow people. I lost count of how many times I’d been backstabbed by a rich snooty-patooty.
When I try exerting my own independent streak, my father and I seem to go round and round. Sometimes, he gets downright furious with me when I try bucking his authority for something I believe in. I do try to be respectful of his wishes, but sometimes he just goes so overboard and becomes unreasonably overprotective.
So, having to live at home during the summer is going to be a difficult challenge, to say the least. It just gets harder to deal with him the older I get. What does he expect anyway? With me having lived far away from home for so long, I’ve had no choice but to become independent. It quickly became second nature for me to make most of my own decisions.
I stow away my bag and slip over two sets of legs, trying not to fall on my fellow passengers. I sit down in the window seat, blowing the hair out of my eyes and buckling in.