If you're anything like me, then you're jet-lagged, and you're tired, and you need to come upstairs and get some sleep.” “I slept on the plane,” he says, sitting up, his suit wrinkled, his tie loose, one of his cuff links missing from his jacket. “I'm fine. I don't need any bloody sleep.” He moves to stand up, stumbles a little, and then catches himself on the bar. Before I can even register what he's doing, he's grabbed the drink from me and tossed it back. “Oh, honey, what the fuck?” Goose bumps break out across my skin at the sound of Ransom's voice, and I turn to find him standing there in
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