His Secret, Her Mistake

Chapter One

'Him'

Today wasn't an average day. No. An average day was the bustling sounds of the airport. Veronica's heels clacking against the tiled floor with the distant beeps of machines in the background, and while all this was still happening, it was far from a normal day. Something in the air felt different, as though the air itself has changed - a warning perhaps? She thought to herself.

It was definitely a day that was going to change Veronica's life forever.

Straightening her neck tie and adjusting the length of her skirt, Veronica begins her usual commercial smile while she greets the passengers boarding first class. Each time she checks their ticket, she longs to be one of the many she saw boarding. She wonders, out of jealousy, how people were able to afford this lifestyle while she never got to venture further from the plane itself. Of course, Veronica had dreamed of becoming a flight attendant, roaming each day from city to city, state to state but unsurprisingly, it started to feel repetitive. At the end of the day, she never really got further than her hotel room before being back to the confining metal tin that brought her there.

She watched, for the thousandth time, her colleagues providing the safety demonstration; while she poured the bottle of champagne that was most likely the same cost as her day's earnings. Looking over her passengers, she watches them in fascination, playing the game she always played; making up their back story and deciding who they were. Until her eyes landed on him, leaving her with the question of who was he?

His face is aloof yet charming but she could sense the edge of anger teetering over his expression as though he permanently looked like he was single-handedly the best man, regardless of who he was around. Veronica places the champagne next to him, quiet so that she doesn't disturb him. Yet she can't help but look closer. Small scars painted across his face, only noticeable when this close as though they've been festering into his skin for a long time. Her eyes begin to glide to his, when they sharply look up at her own. Her cheeks immediately redden with embarrassment and she apologises, knowing she shouldn't have stared at him so long and wondering whether his scars were from a terrible accident a long time ago.

The man smirks, knowing the effect he's placed upon yet another woman. Undoing the button of his expensive, black shirt, he watches her catering to others in first class as though he was now being avoided, or worse, invisible.

Veronica's auburn hair mesmerised him, the way it was entrapped and forced into a sleek bun - he thought about what it would look like down, wild and free. Her blue eyes swirling as she spoke to the other guests, just a hint of mascara elongating her lashes, and nothing else. Such simple beauty. Feeling a rise in himself, he knew he wanted her. He was so tired of the girls he was constantly around. They spent money to make themselves look good, but they still didn't. But her, this angelic looking woman he just met, had the air of innocence that he wanted to ruin. Lifting his finger, he signals her to come back.

"More champagne?" Her light voice asks, equally as sweet as her face.

"Scotch. On the rocks." His voice serious, but his dark eyes were dancing as though this was a game.

"Of course." She begins to take the untouched glass away as his hand reaches for hers.

"Thank you...?" He pauses for her name, his hand still over hers, enveloping it in size.

"Veronica." She smiles again, this time with slight tension, and he releases her hand. As she pulls it away, he spots the ring. A heavy, metal burden weighing down her left hand.

Not a problem for a man like him.

Of course a girl like that had been swept up by society, but it only angers him. He couldn't necessarily explain why, just that it did and that he wanted her to himself. No - he needed her to himself. He didn't want to think  about another man doing what he was imagining doing to her.

And so it began, the change in the air.

His job wasn't to finish what he came here for, it was her.

"Is there anything else?" She asks so gently, placing the scotch down next to him.

"Entertainment." He nonchalantly says, though it hints as a demand. She nervously touches her hair, ensuring it's still swept back.

"The media centre has films, and music-" She begins but he cuts her off.

"None of that, Veronica. I'd like to talk to you." She gulps, the way her name came out his mouth surprised her. She fiddles with her wedding ring, a habit when she becomes nervous.

"What would you like to know?" She tries her hardest for her voice to remain professional, but secretly she wanted to talk to him. He fascinated her. He wasn't the usual business type you saw on these journeys. Not that she would ever admit this aloud.

"I'd normally start with, what you do for work, but as we're here, where do you live?" He rubs his fingers against his sharp jaw while talking to her, intently watching her face as she speaks.

"Outskirts of New York." Her answer is short but he gained the information he wanted.

"Alone? Or..." He trails off, eager to get confirmation of that dainty ring weighing her hand down.

"No, with my husband, John. Have done for about three years now." She smiles, and it angers him that he knows the reason why. She was thinking of this John now.

"Where do you live?" She continues the conversation, realising this probably wasn't a question to ask as a professional.

"I travel a lot for work, but mostly New York - centre." He seems distracted now.

"What do you do for work?" She continues to ask questions, trying to ignore the other passengers signalling her for more drinks. This was the most interesting day she'd had at work yet, and this made her sad to realise. They'd barely shared a few words.

He laughs slightly, shaking his head and sitting up to rest his elbows on his knees so that his eyes were now looking up to her through his brows.

"A lot." He replies, leaving her puzzled. It wasn't exactly an answer. It wasn't an answer at all.

"Sorry, I didn't ask, what is your name?" She pushes for more details, noticing the others get impatient that she wasn't waiting on them.

"Charlie." His smooth voice sings the name, but again his eyes tell another story. It wasn't the name she expected from him, but you don't come out looking the way you do now, when you're named.

Nodding politely at his answer, knowing she can't wait any longer she smooths out her skirt and replaces the commercial smile she learnt best, and goes to tend to the others, leaving just her heels in his sight; while he ponders why he didn't give her his real name.