11 A plane ride later

Unknown POV

Stretching back on my chair, I placed my phone on the desk and glanced at the person sitting in front of me.

"I trust all the preparations are taken care of?" I asked.

"Y-yes sir. As soon as they land, we-"

"They?" I interrupted

The older man in front of me looked confused.

"Well, yeah. There were two tickets booked under the name of InfoWeb Softwares executives."

Well, that changed things.

"In that case, hold up on the plan and wait for my instructions until I find out who this other person is."

**

Ruth's POV

Taking a deep breath, I focused on something - anything - other than sick feeling curling in my stomach.

"A whiskey, please," Caleb said, addressing the flight attendant with a roughish smile. That distracted me from my condition for a minute.

This Caleb looked so different from the one I had met last night, I mused. That one seemed to be barely hanging on the edge of sanity.

This Caleb? He looked like nothing could ever be big enough to faze him.

I silently snorted at my comparison of two of them in my mind, when I can barely bear to be around one.

Earlier in the day, I had decided to take him up on his taunt literally and taken half day off, going home early to pack up for our trip.

As promised, he had met me at the airport, right outside the terminal gates a few minutes before the boarding began.

I was thankful for his tardiness tonight, even though I generally preferred people to be punctual.

It was my first time flying, and I absolutely did not want him to see me fumble at various counters, trying to get through the check-in procedures.

It wasn't like I hadn't travelled in my life before. But I had always preferred to stay closer to the earth, and taken road trips.

My mind was pulled to the present when the takeoff was announced. I could feel sweat gathering at the nape of my neck, even though the cabin was otherwise cool.

People always claimed that taking a flight somewhere was an exhilarating experience.

But all I could think of was that I was about to be hauled in the air like a catapult in a tin machine where even the smallest mistake can prove fatal.

Suddenly all the plane crashes I had witnessed in movies and videos danced before my eyes and my hand stiffened on the armrest.

Beside me, Caleb enjoyed the perks of being a boss, nicking the window seat for himself and enjoying the view of the lit up runway outside.

Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes as I felt the plane vibrate beneath me, feeling my stomach clench when it started gliding on the runway.

"Pretty sure this comes under public indecency, Ms. Brooke," whispered a voice near my ear, making me glare at its owner.

He was lounged back, wearing black long-sleeved tshirt and an annoying smirk, his eyes on my hands that were clutching the armrest desperately.

"How I longed to have you make that face with me, Ms. Brooke," he continued, sighing wistfully, no doubt stretching on the same joke yet again.

Rolling my eyes, I hissed, "don't you get bored of using the same punch line again and again?"

"Not if I get to see you fornicate with every furniture in sight again and again," he replied cheerfully.

Giving him a stink eye, I replied, "why don't you go back to staring at the facinating runway outside?"

"What runway?"

"The one right th-" I stopped as my gaze went to the small window behind him.

Instead of the the twinkling lights of the runway, I saw brilliant streaks of pink, orange and red colouring the landless scene outside.

It looked like we were gliding between plush cotton fields, gliding upwards with each passing second as the land below became a patchwork of fields and miniature buildings. The rich red sun could be seen so close that I felt like I would be able to touch it if I just stretched my hand outside a bit.

I breathed a sigh of wonder at the scene. The sky had been nearly dark when we had boarded, but I had no idea that the paradise laid just beyond the thick coat of clouds.

Just as I was beginning to feel a smile curve my lips, the plane lurched violently, and I swallowed a scream, snapping back into the reality.

"And that'd be the turbulence. Just your luck, I suppose, those are not very common," Caleb sighed making my eyes widen.

"Don't worry, Ms. Brooke. They are harmless. Well, most of the time, atleast," he shrugged, but the twinkle in his eyes made me relax. Suddenly, it didn't seem so bad to be sitting miles above the ground.

"Did you really say all that just to distract me from the take-off?" I asked him, feeling my heartbeat increase for more than one reason now.

"Nope. Was just trying to save the virtue of a public seat," he replied carelessly, emptying his glass.

"It's okay to be nice sometimes, you know."

"It's okay to be scared sometimes, you know," he shot back condescendingly.

"I'm not scared," I shot stubbornly.

"I'm not nice," he shot back easily.

Huffing, I went back to ignoring him as he asked for another whiskey. Now that it had settled and lights came back on in the cabin, it wasn't feeling all that bad.

The flight was approximately 5 hours long from Seattle -Tacoma international airport to Boston - Logan international airport. Instead of letting Caleb get onto my nerves, I focused on enjoying my first flying experience.

**

"Wine, please," I replied to the attendant, and soon had my second glass of red wine served to me as I read through magazine. I knew I shouldn't drink more as wine had a strange effect on me.

It either gave me a migraine or made me unbelievably sleepy, but for the last 2 hours I had relaxed so much that I couldn't care less about the consequences. Caleb eyed me with interest as I asked for another glass of wine.

"What?" I asked, with a defensive edge in my voice.

"Nothing, its just that you never seemed like much of a drinker to me."

"You are the one to talk? Are you actually counting now many whiskeys you've had since the take off?" I asked, with an odd slur in my voice.

"There's literally no comparison between us, honey. I've had years to build my tolerance for alcohol. Besides, I've had enough dinner to absorb the effects of liquor, unlike you."

It was true. While I was enjoying my journey now, I hadn't thought it was good idea to have dinner. Being in air was doing funny things to my stomach.

It felt like it was trying to decide whether to give into the gravity and stay down or let helium in the air do its work and float. Either way, given the circumstances, I had decided it was best to skip dinner.

"It doesn't matter. I feel great!" I replied, my voice an octave louder than normal. But it seemed I jinxed it as soon as I spoke.

Just as our plane passed over Kingston, another turbulence shuddered through the flight, making me gasp. My unsettled stomach made its existence known as it rolled with fear and I felt my fear from earlier come back with vengeance.

I was thankful that - intentionally or not - he had distracted me during take-off, but I didn't think that would work during landing. My feelings seemed to have magnified now, and I placed my fresh glass of wine into the cup holder of my armrest, no longer being able to relax enough to drink.

As yet another turbulence wracked throughout, I clutched the armrest again and couldn't help the squeak I released.

Must stay distracted, I decided. Beside me, Caleb remained calm and composed, sipping from his glass and asking for yet another one before current one even emptied.

"Are you trying to get drunk?" I asked a little sleepily when his drink was served.

Shrugging he replied, " (A) why not? It's not like I'm driving. And (B) I'm just enjoying being the only one of us who can stomach a drink while flying."

"Well, (A) you're not the only one who can stomach that. And (B) Were you drunk last night then?" I asked, hoping the flow of conversation would make him sprout something that'd explain his behavior last night.

"Hardly matters since I wasn't driving last night too." He replied instead.

Huh?

"But there wasn't any car waiting when I left last night."

"I left before you did, remember?"

"No, you didn't. You were standing behind the trees, when I left."

Genuine shock crossed his face as he looked at me. Did he really think I didn't know he was watching me climb the cab and leave?

"So? How did you get home then?" I asked him, yawning. Maybe so much wine really wasn't a good idea, I thought. But maybe I will get some answers from him about last night while we were at it?

He averted his eyes for a minute, before recovering. "Always eager to find out other's secrets but never letting them in on yours, Ms. Brooke?"

"What secret?" I asked as the plane engine shuddered loudly amd I blinked my eyes wide open. I didn't want to fall asleep. I was worried if i did, I'll never wake up alive.

Eying me slyly, he said, "Well, there that question I asked you weeks ago of why you're not a developer, among a few other things.."

I opened my mouth to snap at him to mind his own business, but he must've already read that on my face because he raised his hand to stop me before I had uttered a single word.

Instead, he continued, "but I'll settle for the most obvious one at the moment, Ms. Brooke."

His eyes roamed over my face for a split second and when I raised my brow in question, he smirked, "you are sweating so profusely that you may as well be melting, Ms. Brooke. Admit it. You're scared."

I was. I was terrified. And questioning him was keeping that fear at bay. It felt exactly like it did when we were stuck in the elevator. And I knew if something wasn't done about it, I'll slip into panic attack today as well.

At his reminder, I swallowed the knot in my throat, but refused to accept defeat that easily.

Throwing his words back at him I said, "always eager to find out other's secrets but never letting them in on yours, Mr. Cross?"

His dark eyes turned shrewd as he offered, "why don't we make a bet?"

"What bet?" I asked warily.

"If you can drink, and keep this down, then I'll tell you one of my secrets." He challenged, pushing his fresh tumbler of whiskey towards me on the flip board.

"That's it?" I asked cockily. Hadn't he just witnessed me drinking wine? Granted, they were both very different in nature, but both were alcohol just the same.

Nodding, he waited and I held his eyes as I picked the tumbler and downed it in few gulps.

I winced and nearly gagged as the liquid seared through my throat, and tried to burn its way up my chest.

I cursed myself to not take small sips, but then where was my signature dramatic flair in that?

Banging the tumbled down, I gulped a few times, holding my breathe to will the liquid to stay down.

Caleb eyed me with amusement the entire time, not saying a word as I felt my stomach catch fire.

Shuddering, I breathed deeply for a few minutes, finally feeling settled and letting the tingles of hard liquor take its effect.

It felt like shivers danced up my spine, making my finger tips tingle.

That was odd, I thought. I've had whiskey before, but never has one drink ever caused this effect so soon. Maybe it was the combination of wine and my already sleepy state?

Looking at Caleb, I could feel my eyes cloud a bit and I frowned, blinking rapidly, keeping my focus on him.

"Your turn." I challenged, feeling my muscles relax and my eyelids droop.

It felt like I was lying on a huge, fluffy mattress, getting compelled to drift off peacefully.

I vaguely felt myself tilt ahead slightly, and saw the twinkling lights below, glowing brightly out of the window.

It felt like we were getting closer by the minute, but I shrugged it off, feeling too relaxed to care.

Caleb inclined his head obediently, and said, "alright then. When I was young - well, younger, I used to be very scared of flying myself."

I paused, listening as intently to him as I could, fighting to keep my eyes open.

"Infact, I was so scared that I had a few intense panic attacks when I was forced to travel through air."

"Among one of those times, things got a little too out of hand, and I was prescribed mild muscle relaxants to get through it whenever I travelled," he confessed, his eyes glazing slightly at the memory.

Huh. Many thoughts swirled through my brain, but I felt too drowsy to make sense of them.

He looked at me like he was waiting for me to say something.

Yawning, I folded my arms around me and cuddled into my seat. Nearly asleep now, I slurred, "muscle relaxants, huh? How did those feel, Mr. Cross?"

I barely registered his smirk as my eyes closed shut, and felt his warm breathe on my ear.

"Exactly like this, Ms. Brooke," he whispered, before I slipped into peaceful slumber.