The Collector | 18+

【23】Short Commute

Two and a half hours later, I was getting out of the airport shuttle. The last time I'd been in Heathrow dated back to five months ago, for a conference in Stockholm, where I'd attended as a speaker. I'd believed my next flight would be in December, to visit my dad for the holidays, but there I was...

I made my way through the familiar place with ease, reaching my gate without a hiccup. Even as I boarded the plane, I was struggling to accept this was all real. The suddenness of everything was making it feel like a dream, a wild scenario conjured by my subconscious.

I kept checking my phone until we were asked to turn off all electronic devices. Because of how secluded the Westergaard Estate was, finding a place for me to stay was proving complicated. The person in charge of booking where I'd sleep—Cassandra Williams, from accounting—was still working on it, and she'd promised she'd get back to me as soon as she had a solution. Hopefully, she'd have texted me with some good news by the time I landed.

Panic properly set in as soon as the aircraft took off. But thanks to Cassandra, I was flying Business, so I was able to order myself a drink. The first vodka cranberry didn't help much, but the second did. I'd brought some work to keep myself busy during the two-and-a-half-hour ride, but I wasn't able to focus enough to get anything done.

It was heavily raining when the plane landed in Trondheim, which I knew might be the norm during my week-long stay. My phone was on again as soon as allowed, and I impatiently waited for it to boot and for notifications to come in.

They only did as I was making my way out of customs, walking toward the terminal's exit. Everything has been arranged. Someone's picking you up from the airport.Well, that sounded ominous...

Dragging my suitcase behind me, I kept my eyes on the phone, expecting more texts to come as she explained what exactly had been arranged. I knew she'd been talking to a small bed-and-breakfast, the closest lodging to the Westergaard Estate, so maybe they'd made something work in the end. Instead of Cassandra's, it was Gigi's text that came next.

Remember, no sexy foolery. I'll know if you do, and I'll repudiate you. Don't make me be a bad sponsor.

I chuckled, passing the terminal door just then. Lifting my eyes, I scanned the people amassed there to find someone who might be holding a panel with my name on it. That was usually how things worked when I traveled this way.

Before I could find them, I froze in my tracks as I met an arresting pair of blue eyes, attached to a very familiar face I hadn't expected to see so soon.

Maybe he was waiting for someone else, but the odds of that were too slim for me to actually enjoy the delusion. As we stared at one another from afar, I sensed all my determination slowly melt away. Ugh, why did it have to be him? He was even more dashing than I remembered.

It dawned on me that I'd barely seen him at all in the end. Three times over three days, and that was it. More than ever, the power he had over my mind terrified me. How could three encounters cause so much chaos and disarray?

Someone huffed behind me, reminding me that I was blocking the way, so I gathered myself and moved further into the airport. Mr. Westergaard was with me in seconds, looking absurdly dashing in his dark blue parka and jeans. Seeing him out of his suits was disturbing, but not as much as the way I loved this casual version of him.

Oh, God... I might have to call Gigi as soon as I had a moment alone.

"Welcome, Miss Connelly."

"Thanks...but—Why are you here?"

"It's nice to see you, too." As cordial as he was trying to be, I could sense the tension underlying his detached tone.

"I wasn't expecting you, is what I meant."