Take Me in Bangkok (Take Me Abroad #2) Read Online K.D. Elizabeth

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Take Me Abroad Series by K.D. Elizabeth

Total pages in book: 129
Estimated words: 122380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 612(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)

We never should have met.
I belong in Italy as an heiress to my family’s media empire.
He lives in Thailand to get away from his American life.
On one short flight we’re seated together.
I try to distract myself by talking to him.
He tells me he has no desire for idle chit chat.
Put off by his rudeness, I do my best to ignore him.
But when I have a panic attack during landing, he holds my hand and talks me through it.
Before I can thank him, he disappears.
I figure that’s the last time I see him.
A few hours later, though, I run into him at my resort.
We end up having dinner together when the resort doesn’t have a table for him.
One long meal where we both enjoy playfully teasing each other.
When we finish, he makes it clear I’ll never see him again.
A week later, I’m invited to be the dinner companion to a wealthy Thai man.
I’m lonely after spending days by myself, so I accept the invitation.
We’ve barely begun when he insults me to my face.



The Flower

Chapter One


I’m already regretting the flight before boarding has finished. The plane is tiny, two rows of double seats crammed so close together the aisle is really more a general concept than a reality. My point is, if someone made a bet with me to throw a ball from one end of the plane to the other, I could totally make it.

I stare at the twelve inches of space between my aisle seat and the one across the tiny gap and realize with a sickening dread that if anything happens on this flight, they’ll know the reason none of us made it out alive is because we all got trapped trying to shove our way down the narrow aisle.

At least on the flight from Rome, I could pretend I had some space. But not here. They must have made a mistake. Wrong plane. Something. This one has to be heading to some super small, remote town, not the party capital of Thailand. Ha ha. Funny. I laughed. Now please get me off.

No one comes to rescue me. No one announces over the loudspeaker that they’ve accidentally put us on the wrong plane. Everyone just keeps trucking their crap down the aisle like everything is fine.

Yup, okay. It’s official; this flight was an incredibly stupid idea, on top of the already idiotic decision to cart myself off alone to Thailand. Maybe I should just—no. I’m not leaving. I’m not. That would be proving my brother right. That would be listening to the demands of the Chief Marketing Officer of my family’s company, who insisted multiple times that this was the worst possible time for me to take off for an indefinite leave. Too bad for him; I need this break. I’ve needed it for months, and if I’d pushed it off much longer, I would have had a breakdown.

And my butt is already in this seat. I’m suffering through this Bangkok-Phuket flight if I have to white-knuckle it and chug three vodka sodas to make it through landing.

My gaze snags on the tiny window one seat over and then quickly veers away. I think of how soon we’ll be hurtling through the air and shudder.

I’m not afraid of flying. Really. Don’t have a problem with it at all, actually. When we fly over land, that is. I could live on a plane, really, if I had to. I swear. But flying over water? Not so much.

I don’t do water. And when I say I don’t do water, I mean I’m deathly afraid of it. Ponds, lakes, streams. Rushing water, still, shallow, deep, freshwater, saltwater—it doesn’t matter. The only kind of water I can tolerate is a glass of it in my hand. And showers.

Even the showers took two years to tolerate. I’m now the world’s fastest speed-showerer. You’re welcome, environment.

But above all, I really don’t do the ocean. You can sink and sink, down, down, down, with no hope of ever swimming back up to the surface. No one would ever find you.

And the color! People think the ocean is blue. And it is. Near shore. But in the real ocean, the middle-of-nowhere-no-one-can-save-you-now ocean, the water is black. Impenetrable. Cold.

We are not made for deep water. We are land animals, through and through. Every moment we spend in the ocean is a second nature bestows upon us like the most regal of kings. That privilege can be revoked.

So that’s why I bought myself a one-way ticket to Thailand.

I don’t like being terrified of water, despite the fact that I do have a very good reason for my phobia. In fact, I’m beyond sick of it. Sick of my brother’s pity, my estranged father’s derision, the snickers behind my back at parties, all of it.

And the press! God, the press is the worst. My family owns one of the largest media companies in Italy, and let’s just say that our competitors love mocking my absurd fear for clicks and views.