Dark Desire, Lauren Smith [reading well TXT] 📗

horror she’d faced every day. Wishing to die quietly, alone in peace in that dark little chamber, breathing in stale air, and not having to face the violence of the man who had stolen her life. There were so many days that she had longed for death, but it never came.

Now she was free, thanks to a paleontology professor named Royce Devereaux and his graduate student, Kenzie Martin. They had been kidnapped by Vadym and forced to help him smuggle fossils out of Mongolia, but Vadym’s plan had backfired. Royce and Kenzie had saved her life, and the three of them had made it safely to the US embassy in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, about a week and a half ago. From there, they’d traveled to the US embassy in Moscow, where the staff had helped to sort out the logistics for her return home to the United States. So much of the days since her escape were blurry.

Once she’d been able to move around without constant pain, the US embassy in Moscow had moved her to one of their apartments while they worked on helping her get the documents necessary to return to the United States. Slowly, she’d begun to feel safe behind the gates of the secured building. And now, she’d started her journey back home by leaving those who had helped her.

Elena stepped onto the plane behind the other passengers and examined her seat number on her boarding pass. She paused in confusion because her seat number led her to business class. The US embassy had said they could only offer her economy, and her parents didn’t have enough money to pay for business class either.

“Miss, can I help you?” one of the flight attendants asked as he came toward her.

“Yes, um . . . My boarding pass says this is my seat.” She gestured to the expensive leather chair that could convert into a small bed.

The flight attendant examined her boarding pass and nodded. “Yes, that is correct. Please go ahead and take your seat.” He started to reach for her backpack to put it above her, but Elena clutched it to her chest. This was a mistake. It had to be. She sank into the seat by the window and waited for someone to come and tell her to leave. This couldn’t be her seat. She stared at the other men and women coming down the aisle. One of these people would have her seat. She just needed to wait for confirmation.

One by one the passengers walked by, but no one claimed her seat. She peered around the back of her headrest, noticing the plane was now completely full except for the seat next to hers. Why was she still in this seat? It made no sense. Airlines didn’t grant surprise upgrades, not for free, and she definitely hadn’t paid for this seat. Even though she was on the plane and should relax now, she couldn’t. Something was wrong—it had to be.

“We have one last passenger coming,” one of the cabin crew said to another as they started closing the overhead bins.

This had to be it, the last passenger on the plane. She blew out a relieved breath. Soon she’d find out where her real seat was, and she’d be all right.

She stared at the door expectantly, waiting for someone to come down the aisle and claim her seat. She mentally rehearsed her apology for taking the person’s seat. It was silly, but in the two months with Vadym she’d gotten used to apologizing for everything and begging for mercy. Now she felt she had to plan every encounter and rehearse every scenario so nothing bad could happen to her again.

Her breath suddenly caught in her throat as a tall, dark-haired man stepped through the hatch and into the cabin. He had a casual elegance to his clothes and movements that screamed old money. He smiled at one of the flight attendants, his lazy grin so charming that the poor woman nearly swooned as she offered to help him find his seat.

So this was the person who owned her seat. His gaze zeroed in on her. He came down the aisle to stop at her row. It was impossible not to notice the casual tightness of his charcoal trousers pulled against his thighs, and his white button-up shirt was what a rich man would wear to travel to a resort. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the lightly tanned skin of his forearms. This man was an exercise in sexy elegance. Her throat ran dry, and she swallowed. Her heart kicked up a beat as something began to hum in her blood—attraction. She’d never imagined she’d feel attraction to any man ever again after what she’d been through.

Elena stood as the man checked his boarding pass and murmured a polite “Excuse me” before he sat down in the empty seat next to her, blocking her from exiting the row of their pair of seats.

“Excuse me, are you sure this isn’t your seat?” She pointed to her own.

The man faced her, his pure blue eyes so soft but also so intense that they made all the thoughts in her head flutter away.

“This is my seat.” He placed his hand on the armrest. His accent was Russian, but his voice was smooth, rich, like whiskey, not like Vadym’s guttural tones. This man was a true specimen of masculinity, with a jawline sharp enough to cut stone. He had the kind of face that she could see on a GQ magazine spread for Armani suits, Burberry coats, or Breitling watches.

“Oh . . . okay.” Elena collapsed back in the chair beside him, stunned. The hatch to the boarding ramp closed. So this was it. Somehow she had gotten insanely lucky, and for the next twelve and a half hours she was flying back to Los Angeles in business class next to this man. Maybe karma realized she owed her.

“You had better latch your belt,” the man beside her said as he put on his seatbelt.

“What? Oh,