"I'll just get the hotel staff," he said and I held back a smile. I was sure it was Marge and the hotel staff that packed his bags.
Nevertheless, I got up and walked over to fix it. I could feel a headache coming. Maybe I should cut back on alcohol at parties.
"Are we leaving?" I asked, managing to finally close the suitcase.
"Do you want to stay?"
I shook my head. Oh hell, no. I wanted to go home. I missed it and there was not a chance I wanted to stay here.
"Then whenever you are ready, go have a shower."
I grabbed a hoodie from my open suitcase and some comfortable pants and headed to the bathroom. I couldn't wait for the long shower.
I laughed and shook my head as I took off my jumper. He had thrown the pants and jumper on top of my dress. The way he acted made me think he was a five-year-old who has never seen a girl naked before.
And let's be honest, I was sure he had seen his own fair share.
I threw the ruined dress in the bin. There was no point wearing that again, as pretty as the dress was.
I did not look at my reflection in the mirror. The last thing I wanted to see was my wounded and bruised face. I had seen enough bruises on my legs to last me a lifetime.
The shower felt like water to a man in the Sahara desert. It was heavenly and by the time I came back to the room, everything was ready, the suitcases already taken downstairs.
"Ready?"
I nodded, taking the jacket off the chair and throwing it on. "Ready."
I followed Darius downstairs as he was tapping away on his phone and I rolled my eyes. Of course, he was on his phone.
He opened the door to the limousine and I got in, laughing as I saw Adrian sitting inside it still in his horrible patterned suit with his hands crossed.
"I'll meet you guys at the airport," Darius said.
I watched in confusion as he closed the door and then disappeared from view.
"Where is he going?"
"I can't believe you left me on the boat."
I shook my head at the five-year–old Adrian and leaned my head back, watching Paris fly by.
"Simone!" I called out excitedly as I saw him.
"How was France, mademoiselle?"
"Memorable," I said, laughing as I sat down and put my seat belt on. Adrian was still in his baby mood as he slumped in the seat in front of me.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Do you have orange juice?" I asked, suddenly having a weird craving for orange juice.
"I can get you a glass of freshly squeezed in ten minutes."
"Thank you."
And true to his word, he brought me a jug of it which I demolished in no time.
"You're going to be sick," said Adrian as I refilled the glass for one last time.
"What?"
"Orange juice on a hangover isn't smart."
I shrugged. "But I don't have a hangover."
Maybe he still did but mine was gone, probably because Darius made me drink heaps of water on the speedboat before I ended up dozing off with a full bladder.
"About time," I said as Darius walked in, taking his coat off and handing it to the air hostess.
"You can tell him we're ready," he said.
She nodded before walking off and he sat down in front, sitting beside Adrian and shooting him a concerned look. "Sorry. Had to pick something up."
"Want some?" I offered but he shook his head. I shrugged. Nothing beats freshly pressed orange juice.
"I want some more," I said as the plane started moving.
"You had a whole litre," said Adrian, looking at me from behind his magazine.
"But I want more." For some reason, I just felt thirstier than before. Just like an angel, Simone came back with another jug, after the plane was safely in the air, without me even asking and I thanked him, leaning back and looking out the window.
"How long is it going to take us to get back to Melbourne?"
"Twenty one hours and twenty two minutes," Darius answered as he took out his laptop from his bag. Of course, work.
"That's a whole day," I said. I wasn't even sleepy to kill some time. Instead, for once I was wide awake and they both were being boring. One was reading a magazine and the other was working, as usual.
I sighed deeply and looked out the window before I got really bored. The only thing I could see was clouds, and these small clouds, big clouds, clouds everywhere.
I got up and walked toward the back where the kitchen surely was. What’s for breakfast?
"Mademoiselle," said Simone, seeing me walk in and I waved.
"What are you making?"
"Are you hungry?"
I nodded, looking around the kitchen. It was small but modern, filled with a range of appliances and shockingly neat. It looked more like a small hotel kitchen than a in a commercial plane. Then again this was a private jet.
"What would you like to eat?"
"Can you make anything?"
"Yes."
I was excited like a school kid as I walked around opening the fridge and pulling out ingredients. I was starving.
"Where did you get all that?"
I ignored Adrian as I pushed the trolley to a stop in the gap between my chairs and theirs and sat down looking at the feast Simone had cooked me.