‘Your car’s downstairs.’ Kevin’s voice is piped through the intercom on my desk.
I check my reflection once more and nod to myself, moving back into my office, grabbing the small suitcase and my handbag, and my phone last of all.
I see a missed call from Theo and my heart lurches. There’s a text too. Clicking into it, I have to read his message twice before it makes any kind of sense.
Venue change accepted. Meet you at JFK.
Does that mean...? Is he...coming to Paris? Or planning an airport quickie? Considering I thought I wasn’t going to see him at all today, either is fine.
Excitement makes my heart thump. This I hadn’t expected. I suck in a deep breath, calming myself before stepping out of my office—if I show even a hint of breathlessness, Kevin will know something’s up.
‘Okay, I’ll message from the air,’ I say, per our usual routine.
‘Got it. But not too late. I have a date tonight.’
‘The cellist?’
He grins. ‘And her fabulous hands.’
I scrunch my face up. ‘Way too much information. Have fun.’
‘You know it.’
My driver is downstairs. He stows my bags and I slide into the passenger seat. It’s only as we’re almost out of the city that it occurs to me JFK is a pretty huge airport. Where am I supposed to meet Theo? And is he even serious?
What exactly do you have in mind?
A minute later a photo pings into my phone. It’s not from today; it has to be at least a few months old because it’s snowing lightly in the picture whereas today is another scorcher. In the photograph, Theo’s standing in a suit and jacket at the top of a set of stairs leading to a jet that’s emblazoned with ‘Hart Brothers’.
Accompanying the photo are the words:
Tell your driver to go to the General Aviation facility. My jet’s fired up.
Excitement buzzes inside me.
Ooh la la!
A pause, and then I get a message back:
Oui.
The General Aviation facility is set aside from JFK and the luxury of the terminal reflects the clientele that utilise it. While there’s still a pretty intense security regimen to go through, everything is made easier with attentive staff and an attention to all the tiny details that make the experience a pleasure. Not that I’m there for long. I walk through the doors, someone takes my bags, including my handbag.
‘We’ll stow these for you, madam.’
I’m ushered to a separate room, where I pass through a security frame. ‘Champagne?’
I shake my head and a bottle of mineral water is handed to me instead. My passport’s checked while I take a sip then the woman comes out from behind the desk with a smile and guides me to a set of sliding doors. ‘This way, Miss Sauvages.’
His jet stands like a piece of marble in the midst of the sky. Gleaming and white, and as big as a commercial jet, the stairs I recognise from the photograph lead the way to an open door. There’s no carpet at the bottom, like you might expect from a film, but a pilot stands at the bottom, dressed in a navy blue uniform with a crisp white shirt with gold embellishment. ‘Miss Sauvages, welcome.’ His smile is friendly. ‘Mr Hart is waiting for you.’
He is? Theo must have left his office almost as soon as I messaged him. How the hell did he arrange all of this so quickly?
My smile doesn’t show any of my innermost thoughts. ‘Great. Thanks.’
He nods and gestures for me to move up.
‘Have a nice flight, ma’am.’ The woman who checked my passport bids me farewell. I suspect I’ll have a very nice flight, but neither of these two people need to know what I’m anticipating.