“Thank you, sir.” My voice is small and meek. And I hate it.
He is back to his normal self, and so am I. Both of us are playing the roles assigned to us by him and maybe even by circumstances of the past. All in all, they dictate our future, or my future with him at the very least.
And it doesn’t look promising.
* * *
I stareup at the metal stairwell leading into the private jet, and once Maximus reaches the platform at the top, he turns around.
“Come here,donnaccia.”
“Yes, sir.”
My voice is still small and demure, which is how it’s been since yesterday morning when Maximus informed me I was to accompany him to France. Whatever changes I thought may have occurred are nothing more than a distant memory.
I grip the railing and concentrate on putting my high-heel-covered foot on the next stair, because if I don’t, I’ll tumble to the ground in a disgraceful heap. Once my step is secure, I repeat the process. I haven’t worn shoes in years, not having a need for them in the sanctuary of my room, and they are as foreign to me as the sun shining overhead. The warmth from it covers me, and I inwardly smile, but it quickly fades at the vexation on Maximus’s face. Regardless, I breathe in the fresh air and soak up the sun while I can. Who knows how long it’ll be until I experience the outdoors again after this trip?
When I get to the top of the stairs, Maximus pivots and enters the aircraft, leaving me to follow. I take in the opulent surroundings, noting the tans, beiges, and other warm colors that cover the furniture and the walls. Otello, Dante, and Leone are already there, along with a female flight attendant.
All of it is forgotten with the roaring of the engines.
I jump when someone lays a hand on my shoulder. My chest spasms, and I whip my head around to find Maximus gazing down at me with his brows gathered in irritation.
He indicates one of the elaborate chairs that’s basically a recliner. “Go sit and strap yourself in.”
“Yes, sir.”
His men’s gazes shoot to me, and I walk over to the designated seat on wobbly legs. When I lower myself onto the nicely cushioned chair, Maximus’s expression has soured to the point where he looks at me like he wants to throttle me. I busy myself with the seat belt, confused as to why he’s upset with me. However, there’s nothing to be done about it. He thinks what he wants, and I’ve given up trying to understand his convoluted logic.
The captain’s voice sounds and carries through the sound system, notifying everyone present of the upcoming takeoff. Even before the plane has begun taxiing down the runway, I’m closing my eyes and offering prayers of supplication.
I’ve never flown before.
Although I know it’s safer than driving, the noises and shaking from the plane grate on my frazzled nerves, which only heightens my anxiety. I’d give anything to swallow one of those pills my father used to give me, because they put me into a stupor and blurred reality to the point I couldn’t be concerned with much of anything.
“Donnaccia.”
“Yes, sir?” I ask, squeezing my eyes shut at hearing his voice. He’s so close he must be in the seat next to me. The click of the seat belt confirms my guess.
“Look at me.”
I shake my head, frantic at the idea of seeing the plane leave the ground. Or plummet. I’ve never openly defied Maximus. Doing this in front of his men is enough to garner severe punishment, but I can’t help it. I’m more frightened of crashing to my death than my malicious husband.
“You,” Maximus snaps. I flinch at his tone and wait for him to grab me and force my compliance. “Get me a drink. Alcohol.”
There’s a feminine sound of someone clearing their throat. “Sir, we are in the middle of takeoff. It’s not safe. I’d be happy to—”
“You’d be happy to do what the fuck I’m telling you to. Get me a drink and do it right the fuck now.” Maximus grinds his molars, and I’m surprised I can make out the sound despite the noise all around me. “Donnaccia.”
I disregard Maximus as the plane’s front wheels lift from the ground and the pressure from takeoff smashes me into the cushions. A small whimper tumbles from me, and for once I don’t care about the show of weakness. There’s nothing that can get me to ignore my instincts, which are screaming for me to protect myself from the invisible forces of gravity.
“Emilia.” His voice is gentler than before, but even the sound of my name on his tongue can’t pull me from the cloud of terror surrounding me.
Vaguely I make out the footsteps heading in my direction. “Here you are, sir.”
Maximus shifts next to me and then says, “Emilia, look at me.”
I attempt to take in enough oxygen to answer him, but all it does is make my breathing jagged and thin. I’m hyperventilating. I know this, and I can’t stop it. My nails dig into the supple armrests, and my fingers cramp from the death grip I employ. A low moan tumbles from me when the plane dips, and my stomach rises to my throat.
