Exposed: The Elite Book Two by G.P. Darling

Author:G.P. Darling [Darling, G.P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2022-12-09T18:30:00+00:00

Private jets are the way to fly. I’m not kidding. There’s no battling for legroom, no one kicking the back of your seat, no crying babies, or people trying to make small talk with you. Plus, I can get up and move around whenever I want.

When we boarded the plane, I was strategic in picking my seat on the plane. I was waiting to see where Marcela was going to sit. She sat down at a seat that faces another with a table between them, and I see King moving towards that seat. Oh, hell no. I bolt forward and wedge myself in the small space between him and the seats.

I plop myself down in the seat and look up at King. He looks at Marcela, then back at me, and smiles. He knows what I’m doing. I turn myself to face Marcela, who is looking at me with her arms crossed. Yeah, she knows what I’m doing too. The flight is four hours, and this could be a great time to bond, or it could be a very long four hours.

As I look around the plane, I see BJ and Alexie in a very intense game of Connect Four which makes me chuckle a little. King is sitting in a recliner seat with his feet propped up as he sleeps. Conrad and Stryker are sitting across from us in a setup exactly like ours, but they are engaged in conversation about the location we’re going to as Conrad types furiously on his laptop. Marcela ignores me for playing a game on her phone.

One hour of silence, and I can’t take it anymore. “Hey, Marcela,” I say softly, “can we talk?”

Her body freezes up, and she looks up at me. She sets her phone on the table and leans back in her seat. “What do you want to talk about?” she replies, but her voice is very condescending.

“What do I need to do for us to move forward? I miss you, and I miss being your friend. I don’t know how many times I can say I’m sorry, but I truly mean it. None of this was meant to hurt you, and I tried to back out so many times. Telling myself that I should just leave, but I couldn’t abandon any of you.” Phew. I spit that out so quickly that I hope she caught everything I said.

“I believe you,” she says, and I feel an immense sense of relief. “But that’s the problem. I know you’re sorry and what you did is probably what any of us would have done, but trust isn’t something I can create from thin air and bring back on command. That’s where I’m struggling. My trust in you is gone, and it’s just not something you can get back with an ’I’m sorry’.”

She’s right. I broke her trust. “Tell me what to do, anything, to gain even a fraction of that trust back,” I plead with her.

“It’s going to take time, Nat,” she says, and her eyes soften, looking almost sympathetic.

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