Private Service at 30,000 Feet - Chapter 4: Chapter 4
You are reading Private Service at 30,000 Feet, Chapter 4: Chapter 4. Read more chapters of Private Service at 30,000 Feet.
My cheeks still burned as I escorted Dominic Valentine back to Margaret Windsor. With practiced professionalism, I announced, "Madam, your husband's trousers have been taken care of."
That knowing look Margaret gave me spoke volumes.
The intercom crackled to life: "Ladies and gentlemen, we're preparing for landing. Please fasten your seatbelts."
Before walking away, I flashed my most convincing smile. "If you were satisfied with our service, we'd appreciate a five-star rating." My voice was steady, but my mind kept replaying what happened in that lounge.
Something didn't sit right.
As passengers disembarked, the generous businessman slipped me his card. "If you ever quit flying," he murmured, "look me up."
Typical. I shoved the card in my pocket, watching him leave with trembling hands.
Later, soaking in my bathtub, I scrubbed hard—as if I could wash away the memory of today. The hot water couldn't compete with the heat in my cheeks.
Then the blow dryer died mid-use. So did my career.
My boss didn't call to congratulate me on landing a big client. Instead: "You're fired. Sexual harassment complaint—from a married passenger."
What?
The knock came as I stood there dripping, towel-clad. Police swarmed in before I could blink.
"Annie Langley? You're under arrest for solicitation."
At the station, Margaret Windsor lunged at me like a rabid animal. "I trusted you!" she shrieked. "You desperate little whore!"
A female officer patted Margaret's back while shooting me daggers. "Preying on married men for sales? Disgusting."
I opened my mouth—just as they dragged Dominic in. Margaret lost it completely.
"You worthless bastard!" She kicked at him wildly. "After everything I've sacrificed!"
While Margaret unraveled, my mind raced. That lounge door had been closed. Where was their—
The slap came out of nowhere.
"Think I'm blind?" Margaret spat. She hurled her phone at me. The video showed Dominic and me entering the lounge together.
My blood turned to ice. If they'd caught Vincent Roscente on camera...
Mercifully, the clip ended before he appeared.
The officer smirked. "Confess to trading favors now, and we'll go easy. Otherwise..." She tapped a stack of papers. "Fraud. Solicitation. Your choice."
I barked a laugh. "Flirting isn't a crime. Prove fraud."
She slammed down a receipt. Two million. Dominic's purchase.
"That was his decision!"
Then my confiscated phone rang. Vincent's voice boomed through the speaker:
"I doubled your sales. Now double your efforts—another two million this time."
That knowing look Margaret gave me spoke volumes.
The intercom crackled to life: "Ladies and gentlemen, we're preparing for landing. Please fasten your seatbelts."
Before walking away, I flashed my most convincing smile. "If you were satisfied with our service, we'd appreciate a five-star rating." My voice was steady, but my mind kept replaying what happened in that lounge.
Something didn't sit right.
As passengers disembarked, the generous businessman slipped me his card. "If you ever quit flying," he murmured, "look me up."
Typical. I shoved the card in my pocket, watching him leave with trembling hands.
Later, soaking in my bathtub, I scrubbed hard—as if I could wash away the memory of today. The hot water couldn't compete with the heat in my cheeks.
Then the blow dryer died mid-use. So did my career.
My boss didn't call to congratulate me on landing a big client. Instead: "You're fired. Sexual harassment complaint—from a married passenger."
What?
The knock came as I stood there dripping, towel-clad. Police swarmed in before I could blink.
"Annie Langley? You're under arrest for solicitation."
At the station, Margaret Windsor lunged at me like a rabid animal. "I trusted you!" she shrieked. "You desperate little whore!"
A female officer patted Margaret's back while shooting me daggers. "Preying on married men for sales? Disgusting."
I opened my mouth—just as they dragged Dominic in. Margaret lost it completely.
"You worthless bastard!" She kicked at him wildly. "After everything I've sacrificed!"
While Margaret unraveled, my mind raced. That lounge door had been closed. Where was their—
The slap came out of nowhere.
"Think I'm blind?" Margaret spat. She hurled her phone at me. The video showed Dominic and me entering the lounge together.
My blood turned to ice. If they'd caught Vincent Roscente on camera...
Mercifully, the clip ended before he appeared.
The officer smirked. "Confess to trading favors now, and we'll go easy. Otherwise..." She tapped a stack of papers. "Fraud. Solicitation. Your choice."
I barked a laugh. "Flirting isn't a crime. Prove fraud."
She slammed down a receipt. Two million. Dominic's purchase.
"That was his decision!"
Then my confiscated phone rang. Vincent's voice boomed through the speaker:
"I doubled your sales. Now double your efforts—another two million this time."
End of Private Service at 30,000 Feet Chapter 4. Continue reading Chapter 5 or return to Private Service at 30,000 Feet book page.