It would’ve been easy because the top of her head barely reaches my shoulder. That makes her tall for a woman, but not compared to me. Sometimes a person’s silence can make them shrink in appearance because they’re seen as weak for not speaking up, yet Violetta holds her own while remaining quiet.
That’s something Benito could learn to do better.
He makes up the tail end and has decided to hold his tongue for once. A wise choice because I’m not in the frame of mind to deal with anyone’s bullshit.
The flight attendant onboard guides the three of us to our seats, leaving me to sit across from Octavia. She eyes me with an air of shrewdness, watching me closely. Benito and Violetta share the length of a miniature couch and the young woman runs her gaze over him. Twice.
Is Violetta doing that because she’s alert…or is it out of attraction?
The notion she could be interested in Benito sexually heightens my level of aggravation. The last thing I need is for this already volatile situation to become even more so due to my security fucking the woman under my care. Not only would that cause problems for me with Carina, and by extension Rafael, but it’d steer Benito’s mind away from his job where it fucking belongs.
Perhaps bringing Violetta along was a stupid decision on my part. However, it’s too late to rectify that.
With a wave, I decline the flight attendant when she offers refreshments. I have no desire to be anything except level-headed during this entire venture even if I would enjoy a stiff drink, considering what a cluster-fuck my night has turned into.
Benito asks for bottled water and then orders one for Violetta, although she didn’t request it. I inwardly frown at my lack of consideration toward her and then immediately dismiss it. She may be young, but that doesn’t mean she’s incompetent. If Violetta wants something, then she needs to speak up.
As soon the stewardess is out of earshot, I steeple my fingers and peer over them at Octavia. “Where are we going exactly?”
“To my birthplace, Guatemala.”
“Why?”
“Because someone there wishes to speak with you.”
I quirk a brow. “Who?”
She shakes her head and a wry grin twists her lips. “I was warned you’d be like this.”
Interesting tidbit of information…
I suspected Octavia wasn’t the person in charge, although she’s definitely leading this operation right now. Someone had to instruct her on how to handle me. It was very obvious when she whispered in my ear that “clarity of the past is worth your sanity in the present.” At that moment I knew Octavia was only a messenger, not a mastermind. She’s still a worthy opponent and worth keeping an eye on, but her personal objective stops after I arrive in Guatemala.
“I’d be like what exactly?” I ask.
“Direct. Formidable.” She stops for a moment as though to gather her next sentence or amend it in some way. “You’re the type of man who doesn’t like to be kept in the dark and wants to know everything all at once.”
Octavia’s not telling me something I don’t already know. When creating a strategy or plan of action it’s best for me to have as much information as possible. That way I’ll be able to avoid any pitfalls, and if necessary, counteract them.
I give her a curt nod. “If you know someone who is perfectly content with not knowing, that’s all well and good for them, but I prefer not to leave things to chance. Life is a gamble in and of itself, so why create more uncertainty?”
She taps the armrest of her seat. “This is true.”
“Are you going to answer my question? The one where you tell me who told you to send me that text message?”
“Señor Silvestri, do you ever stop to rest at night or is your mind always spinning?”
I don’t deign to answer.
“Gah!” Octavia purses her lips. “Some Americans never take the time to slow down and just enjoy life. They’re always so eager for the next thing or the next goal. I don’t envy this.” She must read the impatience on my face because she huffs and then says, “I can’t tell you what I don’t know.”
My impatience morphs into frustration laced with anger. However, the plane’s wheels begin to rotate across the tarmac and soon after we’re airborne. I glance at Violetta to check on her and find the young woman staring out the window in pure fascination.
Has she never flown before?
Based on her behavior, I’m going to assume not. Benito points to something and murmurs to her, but the plane’s engines are too loud during the ascent for me to overhear. Violetta brings her quizzical gaze to his and, although she doesn’t smile, her ocean-colored eyes are now more vibrant than the tropical waters surrounding the Caribbean.
What did he say to her?
