"Only you, rich people," I muttered, shaking my head.
"You're rich, too," he reminded me, something I usually always forgot. Of course, I was rich, too. What was that, a saying that rich people stick together? If that was the case, I wouldn't have to marry Darius in the first place. It was the fact that rich people claw at each other to become better that we had to get married so that our companies, the biggest, won't run each other down. Some healthy competition that would always keep us at the top and let the other businesses stay below. Evil, but still worked.
Ignoring him and his requests for packeted peanuts, I looked out the window, noticing the dark sky. I thought it was just morning. And then I realised I probably fell asleep sometime because looking at Adrian now, he was sprawled in his seat with a basket on the ground that had packets of empty peanuts and I stifled a laugh.
He should have just ordered a decent meal. All those peanuts surely couldn’t be good for anyone. Taking off the belt, I stood up to use the bathroom and stood in the aisle looking both ways.
This wasn't a commercial plane, so where on earth are the toilets? I walked down the left end. They have to be somewhere. I walked by various closed doors, too afraid to peek in. After another few minutes, I reached the end and paused. Well, this was awkward. I decided I might as well wake Adrian up, feeling the urgent need to pee.
I turned around, only to nearly crash into someone bringing plates, and froze.
"Oh crap, I'm so sorry!"
I bent over, grabbing the cloth they dropped and carefully placed it on the top of the plates. I raised my eyes to see a young man smiling.
"That's fine! Did you need any help?" he asked and I blinked. Was that his voice? Trying not to snicker, I bit my lip and nodded and then realised I didn't say anything.
"Eh, stupid questions. Where are the toilets?"
He looked over his shoulder. "Third door through the bedroom."
I nodded my thanks and walked back to the door. Damn it, why do I need to pee so bad?
"I'm Simone, by the way," he yelled.
I looked back and nodded before entering in. I froze. Whoa, okay, I was expecting a bed of some sort. This was a private jet and dad had one on his flight after he complained too much that the seats gave him back pain. But this room looked straight out of a hotel. Shaking my head, I hurried to the bathroom, sighing as I looked at the cleanliness.
Why can't all planes be like this?
"Hey!"
"Go away."
"Ivory, we landed."
"Ivory."
"Ivor-eh."
"Ivor-ay."
"Ivor-aye, all mighty."
"Ivory."
"Ivory."
"Aluminium."
"Good, now go," I muttered, leaning my head against the surprisingly cold window. I was shivering. Who turned the air conditioner on?
"Ow!" I jumped, sitting up and glaring at Adrian whose face was way too close to mine. He had a cheeky smile on and stood up, placing the glass back. I stood up angrily, only to be pulled back down by the belt. I grumbled and tried to tug it free but gave up when it got stuck.
"Did you have to do that?" I said as he laughed. My hair was now wet thanks to this idiot and I was seriously hoping it wasn't beer or something strange that he poured on me. I had just washed it this morning.
"Here, I'll help."
I looked up to see Simone bend down to help me with my belt and I smiled. "Thank you. At least one of you is nice." I stood up and grabbed my bag.
"You deserve that,” Adrian was saying. “Come on. The driver already picked up our luggage for us."
I rolled my eyes, hurrying after him before I got lost in the dark. I reached the doorway.
"Thank you for f –" I shivered, feeling the cold bitter air outside. I looked down at the stairs and groaned. Can someone just transport me to the bottom?
"Hurry up," yelled Adrian over the sound of the engine as well as the wind and I trudged after him to the limousine that was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. For some reason, the stairs seemed to go on forever before I reached the bottom and I hurried in the car, enjoying the warmth inside.
"Where are we going?" I asked, realizing it was night in France right now. I did not a clue where we are or where we are going.
"To sleep. I don't know about you but I am sleepy," he muttered, leaning back and closing his eyes.
Well, me? Well, I wanted to eat, thanks, but clearly no one wants to feed me these days. I would make something for myself if there was food. Wait, we were going to sleep, which meant hotel, which meant I can raid their bar fridge.
Or I can also call up room service. But by the time they got here with food, that can be either cold or hot. I can't wait that long. Not to mention my bad luck and the food might end up being a platter of seafood since rich people like that. Perfect.