Runway

I dug my fingernails into the leather armrest, trying to will my racing heart to slow. Something was wrong. I cursed myself for letting my temper get the better of me yesterday — sacking my bodyguard had been impulsive, and now, if he were here, he might already know what was happening.

My gaze flicked to the cabin crew. The woman met my eyes with a tight, polite smile, her lips barely moving as she whispered into the phone. The pilot’s voice was low and urgent, muffled through the handset, but the tension in her shoulders told me everything I needed to know.

I closed my eyes, drawing in a slow, steady breath. One... two... three... four... five.

Opening them, I stared out into the night sky. The charter flight was eerily quiet, the hum of the engines the only sound surrounding me. I was the only passenger. We had taken off thirty minutes ago, bound for Charles de Gaulle, but something had gone horribly, unmistakably wrong.

The plane had just made a sharp U-turn. From where I sat, I could see we were heading straight back to the airport we’d only just left. My stomach churned.

“Miss Lloyd, the pilot has informed me there’s a technical issue with the aircraft, so we’re returning to Luton. Please remain seated with your seatbelt fastened.” The flight attendant’s voice was calm as she stood next to me, but the unease in her perfectly made-up face betrayed her.

“What kind of technical issue? I’m due in Paris within the hour for a magazine shoot... do you even know who I am?” I pressed, searching her eyes for any hint of how serious this really was.

“I’m very aware of who you are,” she replied politely, “but I don’t have any other information, I’m afraid.”

Then the plane seemed to lurch violently, pitching from horizontal into a full-on nosedive. My stomach lurched, and my eyes widened in shock. The air hostess scrambled to her own seat, buckling herself in as if bracing for impact.

My brain went into meltdown. Headlines flashed in my mind: “Sheriden Lloyd dies in fatal plane crash.” “Runway model dies on takeoff at Luton Airport.” My chest tightened as sheer panic clawed its way in.

The engines roared, a deafening sound that made the entire cabin vibrate. I could feel it deep in my bones. Every nerve in my body screamed that something was horribly, terrifyingly wrong.

With my eyes still tightly shut, the nose of the plane dipped again. In my mind, it was vertical in the sky, hurtling toward the ground, and I was too terrified to confirm it with my own eyes.

The roar of the engines climbed, unbearably loud, until I had to press my hands over my ears. Pain shot through me, like my eardrums were about to burst. I opened my eyes and spotted an oxygen mask dangling in front of me. I reached for it, but the violent jolts made it swing wildly, impossible to catch.

A cry tore from my throat without my permission, raw and uncontrollable. Then I felt the warm trickle on my face — blood. I touched my nose and recoiled, my fingers smeared dark red across my dress.

Tears streamed freely as the cabin lights flickered violently before plunging me into near-total darkness. Only the faint glow along the floor illuminated the emergency exits. Another terrified cry escaped me as the plane jolted again. My seatbelt held me tight, but the force pressed the strap into my waist, sharp and unrelenting.

Everything shook. Everything rattled. My body was pinned, my mind screaming, and I could do nothing but pray the chaos would end.

Fearing there was more horror to come, the plane finally touched down. Bump after bump rattled through the cabin, endless and jarring, but all I could focus on was the ground beneath me — and the fact that I was still alive. Relief hit me like a tidal wave, my body going into shock, trembling and shivering uncontrollably.

Once the plane came to a complete stop, the cabin crew woman rushed over, flashlight in hand. I noticed a cut on her forehead, and her eyes were wide with terror from everything we had just endured.

“Miss Lloyd... oh my God!” she stammered. Her voice sounded distant and tinny, like I was underwater, my hearing still scrambled from the chaos.

A blanket was draped over my shoulders, and I was carefully escorted off the plane into the cool night air. A sea of paparazzi awaited, their cameras flashing like lightning, but hands guided me safely through the chaos into a small room inside the airport.

Paramedics quickly assessed me while airline staff lingered nearby, watching the aftermath of the disaster they had only just survived. I sank into a chair, my legs trembling, as the enormity of what had just happened slowly began to sink in.

My blood pressure was taken as I dabbed at the dried blood around my nose. The nurse advised a trip to the hospital, but despite the shock, the ringing in my ears, and the lingering adrenaline, I felt surprisingly... okay.

I was still wiping at my eyes with a clean tissue when a voice came over the radio nearby: “Mr Mason is off the helipad. He’ll be here in a matter of seconds.”

Moments later, a dark-haired man appeared, towering over me. His broad frame filled the space, and his designer suit caught my eye.

“Miss Lloyd, I cannot express how sorry I am for what you went through,” he said, extending his hand.

I nodded, unsure of what to say, and gave a brief shake.

“I’m James Mason,” he added, his voice calm and authoritative. “Owner of the airline.”

I looked up, heart skipping. Of course it was him — the James Mason. The same James Mason whose fiancée had stolen my boyfriend from me just eight weeks ago.

I studied him, wondering if he was hurting as much as I still was — or if he was completely untouchable, untouched by chaos and heartbreak alike.

“What... what actually happened? Did the plane crash?” I asked, noticing the air hostess now receiving medical attention.

James gave me a reassuring smile and crouched beside my chair, bringing us eye to eye.

“No, there was no crash. There was a technical fault and the cabin pressure dropped. The pilot made an emergency landing,” he replied, his calm tone making it sound like everything I had just endured was merely a bit of turbulence.

I nodded again, still trying to process it.

“Miss Lloyd, a person of your... importance, being involved in an incident like this will be handled accordingly. If there’s anything I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.” He handed me a business card, and as I held it, the faint scent of his cologne reached me, strangely intoxicating.

I looked into his eyes — dark lashes framing them perfectly.

“I’ll need my belongings off the plane,” I said, glancing at my wristwatch. Paris was slipping further away. “And a hotel booked,” I added.

James nodded, accommodating, though I could tell he wasn’t used to being personally commanded like this. I was richer, more famous, and more powerful than he could probably imagine, yet he smiled professionally regardless.

“Of course. Consider it done. The airline will cover all your expenses, Miss Lloyd. Can I get you a glass of water to help settle your nerves?” His chestnut eyes softened as he noticed my shaking hands.

I swallowed hard, his concern stirring something I didn’t understand in me. What was wrong with me?

“That would be nice. Thank you,” I said, grateful he offered water and not something stronger. I wasn’t sure I’d have the strength to refuse anything else right now.

James smiled again before straightening and walking away, leaving me with my pulse still racing.

I watched him as he spoke into a two-way radio, then made his way over to the flight attendant, who was visibly upset. He remained calm and collected, listening intently as she sniffled and cried, his voice low and reassuring as he offered a few kind words.

Then he looked up and met my gaze. Intense. I wasn’t sure what it was about him — maybe it was the thought that he might have answers about my breakup that I never got, or maybe it was the near-death experience I’d just survived. Whatever it was, I was intrigued.

He was ridiculously handsome, but I was used to good-looking men in my line of work — none had ever affected me like James Mason did.

A female staff member offered me a glass of water, and I took it with my trembling hands. I glanced back at James. He was walking away now, his broad back turned, speaking calmly into his mobile as he exited the room.