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I exited out of my bank account and typed out a text to Hank.

Checking in on the Crystal Water payment. The shoot was eight months ago, and I still haven’t gotten the money.

Fifteen minutes passed before he replied.

HANK

Sorry babe, don’t know anything about it. You’ll have to take it up with accounting.

I knew that would be his answer, so I didn’t bother following up. I just wanted a paper trail.

I set my phone aside and finished my water. Despite my upcoming payday from Jordan, my stomach was in knots. So much could go wrong between now and February.

What would happen if I couldn’t get out of my contract? Would I be stuck with Beaumont forever until?—

A sudden jolt sent my phone crashing to the ground. Plates clattered in the kitchen galley, and a flash of lightning streaked through the gray skies outside. The jet shook so hard I felt my bones rattle.

Just like in my morbid imaginations earlier.

Oh God.

Bile surged as every thought about Hank, Beaumont, and my finances flew out of my head. The only thing I could focus on was the nauseating rise and dip of the aircraft.

How high were we in the air? Thirty, forty thousand feet? How long would it take before we plummeted to earth and exploded into a fireball?

Vuk strode into the main cabin, his expression tense. He managed to walk steady despite the shaking—was it normal for turbulence to last this long?—and he took the seat beside mine without a word. Behind him, the flight attendant strapped herself to her designated seat.

The seat belt. Right. I should do that.

I barely heard the pilot’s warning about staying seated as I fumbled with my seat belt. The clasp kept slipping out of my sweaty palms.

Why won’t the damn thingclose?

I felt a small brush of air as Vuk reached over and snapped the seat belt in place for me.

“Thank you.” The words scraped past a dry throat.

Before I could say anything else, the plane suffered another massive jolt. This time, I couldn’t hold back a scream, and I instinctively grabbed Vuk’s hand.

He tensed, but he didn’t pull away.

Breathe.

I forced myself to count to ten, over and over, until the shaking subsided. Only then did I relax, though adrenaline continued to pump through my blood.

It was also then that I realized I was still squeezing Vuk’s hand. He glanced at where I touched him, his jaw tightening.

“Sorry.” My face flushed. “I don’t deal well with turbulence.”

I moved to pull away, but his fingers curled, trapping my hand in his. His skin was rough and warm, his hold steady.

The breath vanished from my lungs for a second time. I opened my mouth—to say what, I wasn’t sure—but at that moment, the jet rattled again.

The chicken and spinach I’d had for lunch tossed in my stomach. I couldn’t take much more of this. If my adrenaline kept dipping and spiking, I was going to throw up all over the custom-engraved tray table.

Thankfully, the aircraft steadied soon. Gray turned to blue outside the window, and the pilot came over the PA system to assure us we’d made it past the expected turbulence. It should be smooth flying ahead.

Once the PA system clicked off, Vuk dropped my hand like a hot potato.