All mistakes are mine, folks!


"I apologize, sir. But we haven't gotten permission to take off." Gus looks uneasy, his little pilot suit fitting like a glove, the Cullen 'C' that's embroidered on his right pec glaring — mocking — at me.

What the fuck did Dad do? If this is his twisted little way of getting my attention, he sure as fuck has it.

"I'm sorry." I shake my head, tipping down my sunglasses to look Gus in the eye. "What the fuck is going on here?"

Gus looks as if he has no single clue, his clasped hands fidgety, the simple gold wedding band on his left ring finger catching the light.

"We're not permitted to leave the tarmac, Mr. Cullen. That's all they said."

As I storm off the staircase in the blinding sunshine, I curse under my breath when I see Gianna make a phone call with a look of pure panic on her face. She keeps her voice hushed, so I don't have any idea who she's talking to or what the conversation is about.

Not knowing shit bugs the ever-loving fuck out of me.

"I gotta go, baby. I'll call you later. Don't worry, okay?"

Of course, my assistant picks our time in distress to call her fucking girlfriend.

A shiny, black jeep speeds onto the tarmac, and the curses tumble from my lips as I read the words on the side of the vehicle.

Two guys decked out in black exit the car with a scowl on their faces.

"Monsieur Cullen?" Dark eyes assess me as he walks closer. Any sort of officer of the law should probably intimidate me, but the Taser X2 that sits on the spot where a gun should be only makes me roll my eyes instead.

"Excuse me, but what seems to be the holdup?" I utter, sliding my glasses back onto my nose.

"I apologize, sir," the right guy says to me, his French accent as heavy and thick as the mustache on his upper lip. "But we have strict orders from higher up. It seems that all Cullen enterprise assets have been frozen."

"It's a plane, not a bank account," I retort.

My head throbs from all this stupidity. I think it'll be a while before I set foot in France again.

"As we understand it, this is a company jet. Therefore, you can't leave on it. C'est simple comme bonjour, alors."

I arch a brow at his rudeness.

"Allons, képie, je ne suis pas dupe. Mon nom c'est Cullen. Bien sûr je parle le Français." The joke is on you, little officer.

He's spitting all kinds of 'merdes' in my face with the way he looks at me with his beady little eyes. But I revel in it and smile my fakest smile.

"Look, fellas," I start, my hands stuffed in my pockets. My high is wearing off. Unfortunately. "I just wanna go home and deal with it. What are the options here because I'm not about to take the fucking Titanic back to the States."

"You can fly commercial like the rest of us," Gianna mutters under her breath.

"W—," I start as the officers disappear into their Jeep, the engine purring as my brain rattles.

"Soyez intelligent maintenant au lieu d'être têtu, monsieur."

I'm not stubborn. I'm determined. And right now I'm determined to give my father hell. Yes, even if that means I have to go sit in a commercial business seat for the next few hours.


French translations

C'est simple comme bonjour, alors. - It's as simple as that.

Allons, képie, je ne suis pas dupe. Mon nom c'est Cullen. Bien sûr je parle le Français. - Alright, little cop, I'm not stupid. I'm a Cullen. Of course I speak French.

Soyez intelligent maintenant au lieu d'être têtu, monsieur. - Be smart instead of stubborn, sir.