MUSE kissed the top of Pegasus's fluffy white head. "It's just you and me now, buddy."

    For some reason, she had assumed she'd be flying economy on a regular airplane to Greece. Sandwiched between two other passengers for the nine-ish hours it would take. She had her earbuds and her movie ready―Dirty Dancing―and she'd even worn sweatpants with a cozy little fleece sweater. 

     She'd only been on an airplane once, back when her parents had taken her to Cairo, Egypt as a child. She barely remembered that trip: just the hot summer sun beating down on her face, the sandy streets and endless traffic, and how she'd clutched the white linen of her father's pants in an attempt to not get trampled on. There had been so many cousins, names and faces she couldn't remember now. The sound of Arabic had been foreign to her. She had missed New York City. 

    They'd planned to go back, the summer after her thirteenth birthday. 

    Muse tasted blood in her mouth and shook her head quickly. It didn't matter. Egypt was a distant memory to her now. And whatever family she'd had there . . . surely they'd forgotten about her. Without her parents, she'd lost that connection. Those roots.

     Doesn't matter anymore. She had to focus on today. The wedding that would take place in a matter of hours.

     However, this method of travel was not what Muse had pictured.

    "We're not at the airport," Muse said, as the car slowed to a stop.

    The chauffeur, with his corkscrew-blond hair and brown skin, glanced at Muse through the rearview mirror. Like she had lost her mind.

    Maybe he'd taken her to a remote location to kill her.

    Outside the window, Muse could see a long stretch of pavement and a building that looked more like a warehouse factory than the usual enormous, crowded airport gate. Morning sun glared down on the fields of grass surrounding the property. They were still in New York, just an hour outside of the city.

    Muse should have realized it wouldn't have taken this long to reach the airport. But she'd had her head on the glass, eyes closed, thinking of the expression on Adrien's face when she'd said loose ends. And the fact that Muse hadn't seen Adrien this morning, when they were supposed to fly together. Instead, all she'd gotten was a note: Meet my chauffeur outside at four a.m. He'll escort you to the plane. I'll meet you in Greece. See you soon, my love.

    Thinking of that note now gave Muse pause.

    Plane, Adrien had written in sleek, delicate ink. Not airport.

    "Adrien has her own private plane, doesn't she," Muse said flatly. Of course―she was a billionaire. Why on earth would she let her fiancee travel economy at the airport? 

    The chauffeur nodded once. 

    Naturally. 

    Muse stumbled out of the car, still drowsy with a lack of sleep, with her carry-on bag in tow. Pegasus growled from within. At least now that there were no flight restrictions concerning pets, Pegasus could be free of the little mesh bag and sit on her lap.

    "Um. Thank you for the ride," Muse said. The pavement felt like it was swaying beneath her. She felt particularly raw this morning. She missed Adrien. She hated that she missed Adrien. She didn't know how to say goodbye to this random man.

    The chauffeur squinted at her. He had her suitcase in one hand, bicep bulging beneath his suit. Muse wished she remembered his name.

    "I'll be accompanying you the whole way, ma'am."

    "Oh. Um. Okay." No goodbye necessary, at least, but she still felt too stressed for this.

    The warehouse-seeming building suddenly gave off a sound like a machine gun. Muse spun around. One entire wall of it was unfolding, retracting upwards to reveal the cavernous insides, where a sleek silver plane awaited. It looked more like a fighter jet than a normal airplane. 

    "Oh, there's our pilot. Aida Jane."

    Aida Jane?  Why did that name sound familiar? 

    A woman in a black bodysuit strode out from the warehouse. From this distance, she was just a silhouette. A very, very curvy silhouette. She removed a headset and shook her red hair free, letting in glisten like gold in the early morning sun. She seemed older, maybe in her late thirties or early forties. But there was something that radiated off her: a bright, sunshine-like happiness, carefree magnetism.

    Fuck. Aida Jane sounded familiar because she was on Adrien's list of women she'd slept with.

    Something roared inside Muse―her heartbeat or her rage or both―as Aida came closer. She was beautiful. Lipstick-stained rosebud lips and a crooked nose. Tan, despite being ginger. With a pearly-white grin.

    "Hey!" she shouted breathlessly, as the plane's engine began to whir. "James, and you must be Muse!"

    Muse gritted her teeth together. Trying to force out a smile. It must have looked like a grimace. "Hi."

    Aida laughed. "Not a morning person, eh? Come on!"

MUSE wanted to bite off Aida's head. For no particular reason. 

    She barely registered the inside of the plane―never mind the little pond with koi fish, the waterfall, the king-sized bed, or the glistening marble kitchenette. No, all Muse could focus on was Aida's insufferable cheerfulness and bright, lively smile. She seemed to take nothing personally whatsoever. Hell, if Muse snarled at her, she'd probably just attribute it to nerves about the wedding. 

     "It's gonna be a long flight," Aida said. "Probably around nine hours. Could be more, depending on weather. Could be less."

     James and Aida seemed to already know each other. Probably, being part of Adrien's personal services team, they'd spent time together already. This did not help Muse's mood. In fact, she was almost vibrating with rage. For no reason. 

     Count your blessings, she thought. Trying to calm down. At least she didn't have to worry that Adrien had slept with her chauffeur. Just her pilot.

     There was no reason for Muse to be this mad. She'd met Piper. She'd met Leila. She'd met other women Adrien had slept with. So it had to be the sleep deprivation―she was running on about two hours of rest. But the idea that this woman . . . this happy-go-lucky, red-haired pilot . . . had been inside Adrien's slut hut . . . had touched Adrien . . . 

     Muse settled into one of the velvet couch seats and closed her eyes. She was being crazy. Adrien had given her that list. She'd asked for the knowledge. It shouldn't surprise her that Adrien had slept with women in her employment. Honestly, Muse couldn't even blame her. Aida was extremely beautiful. Still, this did not satisfy her. 

    And it didn't help that she didn't know why Adrien wasn't flying with her. They were supposed to be here together. If Muse could have only touched Adrien's hand, right now, and felt the press of Adrien's smirk against her temple, she would feel better.

    Oh, God. When had she begun craving Adrien like this?

    "You ever flown private before?"

    Muse looked up. Aida grinned down at her. And―oh. It wasn't just the happiness that poured off her. It was how genuine she was. She meant it. 

    "No, never," Muse said.

    "Well, I'll be pretty smooth. You can count on it."

    "Great. Thanks." She was trying to keep the fury in check. She swore she was trying. 

    "No worries. Everyone ready for take-off?"

     Muse mumbled, "Yes." 

     "Sure am," said James. Their laughter echoed amidst the sound of the little waterfall and the burble of the pond. 

     Muse slunk down into the cushion and closed her eyes. Nine hours with these two. At least she had Pegasus. 

     Before she knew it, she was sinking into sleep. 

     Adrien in a tuxedo. Black eyes bright. Whorls of the sunset etched into ocean waves. A priest between them, asking them to recite their vows. The words―I do―floating from Muse's lips. Sand on the hem of her white wedding gown.

    The dreams swirled, sea salt on the breeze. She had thought of the wedding so many times it was imprinted in her head. Adrien and her had planned it, sitting at the kitchen table. The blue-white glow of the laptop had illuminated the sharp edges and hollows of Adrien's beautiful face. They'd gone over it by the hour, by the day.

     Once the plane touched down in Greece, they'd be taken to a private resort. They would share a couple's suite. Their clothes already laid out on the bed. They'd get ready separately, then meet down at the beach by the shore. The crowd would probably be waiting. They'd get married just as the sun set. A million dollars would be transferred into Muse's bank account. They would spend the next seven days in Greece. Return to New York the following week. Honeymoon sometime in the distant future. 

     Marriage for a few months. Julien's death. Divorce.

     Muse knew how it would go. No surprises there.

    There was just one simple thing neither of them had accounted for: Muse was inconveniently, horribly, hopelessly in love with Adrien Vitale.

     And no matter what happened, she needed to make sure Adrien never found out.

***

Merry Christmas Eve! I love you.

From the moon and back,
Sarai