Bastard Boss

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Bella

The plane levels off and I glance over at Tyler, all comfy in his seat and sipping his drink while I'm on a proverbial ledge, about to crash.

"I guess flying doesn't bother you?"

"So much so that I got a pilot's license a few years back. Up here in the sky is the one place the rest of the world can't touch you. It's like a timeout from the chaos."

I'm not surprised he has a pilot's license. It seems like something the ultimate alpha control freak would want in his arsenal, along with a wall that is ten feet high. We hit a bump and I'm clearly on edge because I gasp. "It doesn't feel like a timeout."

His eyes brim with amusement. "It's just a little choppy air. It'll pass."

"Says the man who's a control freak. How do you not want to go check on the pilot?"

"I'm a control freak about what I can control. We're up here now. Whatever is going to happen, is going to happen. Believe it or not, flying helped me understand that there are things in life we can't change."

"Like my mother dying?" I say, slightly triggered by this topic, having far too many people in my life lecture me about my mother's death being unavoidable. And I can easily assume his trigger as well. "Or who your father is?" It's out before I can stop it. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that, but I've—well, just thought of you and the struggle this must be often since he died and—"

His lips press together. "Stop trying to save me, Bella. He's gone. The end."

"Is it the end?"

He looks at me, seconds ticking by, and I can almost feel that ten-foot wall slam between us before he says, "I was talking about something more like a flock of birds flying into the engine. I can train and prepare myself for how I respond."

"Can we not talk about flocks of birds in engines right now?" I pick up my drink and down it before I say, "What does happen if a flock of birds hit the engine on a plane this size?"

"We emergency land. Did you see that movie with Tom Hanks? Sully? It was the true story of the pilot who landed a commercial flight in the Hudson River in New York City."

My hand goes to my neck. "Please tell me it wasn't a flock of birds?"

"It was a flock of birds that took out not one, but both engines."

I hold up a hand. "Okay, that's all I need to hear while we're in the air, thank you."

The flight attendant appears and takes our dinner orders. When she leaves, I've ordered pasta and Tyler is having fish. It's better than chicken, which is always dry and tasteless. We eat and share another drink, and end up talking through all the details of Dash's contracts, both in publishing and film. When the tables are cleared, I say, "Should we talk about the meetings tomorrow?"

"Good cop, bad cop works. We strike a deal with studio B, and make it solid. We go to studio A and I tell them to go fuck themselves, unless they meet our terms. You try to save it, tell them you're trying to get me to just go back to Nashville, but there is a lot on the line. You really want to save it, but you need a little give on their part to keep me from convincing Dash that studio B is the best choice."

"Assuming Studio B is still interested." My teeth scrape my bottom lip. "But I like where you're going with this. You're really good at taking control of situations." I tilt my head thoughtfully, thinking of all he's overcome. "Your father was a force and he tried to take control from you. He failed, Tyler. "

There's an almost angry tic to his jaw. "Are we talking about my father again?" He doesn't give me time to reply, adding, "I do like control, Bella. In all things." He doesn't give my mind time to run with the obvious implications of his words. "But maintaining control at all times can sometimes become burdensome. I require a release. I find I just need a good unattached fuck, and I'm better for it."

I blink. "I—you—"

"It works. You should try it. When you were against my office door with me between your legs, were you thinking of anything else?"

"Sex comes with complications."

"Not if you set the rules in advance. It's sex. Just sex. And nothing more."

In other words, I've been put in my place. I'm an employee. Outside of that, I was just sex to him. Because sex is just sex to him. And I am nothing to him, not on a personal level. That's what he's telling me. I crossed a line, speaking to him in a too-personal way. I can spread my legs for him, but not dare speak to him of his private matters.

The flight attendant stops by again. "Refills on your drinks?"

"Yes," Tyler says. "For both of us." He doesn't look at her. He's focused on me, a crackle in the air, a mix of sexual tension and his anger.

But not my anger.

I'm not angry. Anger will get me nowhere but embarrassed and hurt. "I'm tired. You can have my drink." I lower my seat and roll to my side, giving him my back.