Hell's Smitten (Gordon Ramsay x Reader)

*Chapter 114- Two Miles High Part 1/2

Saturday, July 20th, 2013

Getting on a private jet differs greatly from riding in a plane, and the camera crew being absent because of being slated for a flight earlier in the day makes the experience even better.

Gordon informed us on the ride over that the only other person in the jet with us will be the pilot, he'd had the flight attendant take off today so we won't be bothered. The implications 'not being bothered' stirred up in my mind were put into overdrive by Gordon's not-so-subtle wink.

We stopped at LAX but went to a different section of the airport that was much smaller and not crowded at all. There were no security scanners to bother with, and the pilot let us know as we boarded that we could leave whenever we were ready. The experience was so hassle free I felt like a princess as opposed to the tinned sardine feeling of being trapped in a metal tube with hundreds of other people.

Inside the jet, the seats are nothing like the plane we'd been on before, even though we'd flown first class. Here, the seats better resemble lounge chairs than airline seats, and there are only four total, each with their own window. On the opposing side of the single-person seats, a long couch stretches across the length of four windows. But Gordon shows no interest in the heavenly chairs or couch, instead leading us to a door in the back. He opens it and steps in, closing the door behind us. Inside the second half of the jet, there are two doors on either side of a red carpet lined hallway, with a last door at the very back.

Gordon looks positively giddy as he leads us to the furthest door, using a silver key to unlock it and swinging it open. Abel and I step inside, and my jaw drops.

The room inside is positively gorgeous, sleek, and opulent. A huge California king bed sits with its headboard against the wall, vases line the mahogany bookshelf built in behind it, a door to what I presume to be the restroom is to the right, and masterful paintings hang on the wall opposite four windows. Deep blue bedding covers the bed, and a matching circular rug with intricate golden detailing adds a royal yet modern feel to the place.

"Welcome to our bedroom, go on and take your shoes off everyone," Gordon says, looking to me with excitement.

"Our as in..." I start as I remove my shoes.

"All of us, yes. If Abel would like, that is. We have a ten-hour flight ahead of us, and we shan't be bothered here." His eyes sparkle.

"This is insane, Gordon," I say in awe, stepping further into the room and touching the velvety fabric of the sheets. "I didn't know private jets had bedrooms, much less huge ones like this."

"They don't, usually. I asked for this one just for us."

"Isn't that suspicious?" Abel says as he examines the closest painting.

"It would be, if they knew which jet I was taking. But, since none of the crew are here, we're perfectly fine. Relax, would you?" Gordon teases.

"Sorry Chef," Abel turns away from the painting and to Gordon, "I'm always trying to keep things in line. Force of habit."

"No, no, don't apologize. I appreciate your foresight, young man. Now, give me two minutes and I'll let our pilot know we're ready to go, yeah?"

"Sounds good, Gordon," I say, plopping onto the bed and grinning at him as he closes the door.

For our flight, I'd chosen to wear a light gray u-neck top with black jeans–I'd wanted to wear my sundress, but it hadn't been washed, so I went with something different to what I'd normally wear. It doesn't seem to matter what I wear, really, as I often catch both my men admiring me in any outfit.