Exactly the way I requested.
When we get the go ahead to approach the plane, Stella walks with purpose, chin up, eyes forward, like the fierce goddess she is. Instead of her usual sexy ensemble of black pants and top, she’s opted for leggings and an oversized hoodie, thinking that would be the perfect disguise for today’s adventure.
“Are you sure Kostya won’t tell Misha?” she murmurs as we get closer to the jet. “Or Lucky? Or literally any relative I have, because you know how Kostya and Lucky gossip like it’s a sport.”
“I made him pinkie swear not to utter a word to anyone. Happy?” I laugh. “What about you? Do I have to worry that Annamaria will tell your mom we’re doing this?”
“No, I made her promise. Anna can keep a secret,” she says with conviction. “What about your flight crew?”
“I handpicked them myself,” I say quietly. “They are loyal to me. They know better than to do anything that might get in the way of… this.” I gesture between us.
Her eyes flick to mine at that. For a second, something soft and bright moves through them, like sunlight catching glass.
“This,” she echoes, her voice low.
I want to grab her by the nape and kiss her stupid, but I content myself with just holding her hand. Cameras may or may not be watching. I’m not usually paranoid by nature, but like hell am I taking any chances today of someone spotting us on a screen and alerting her father.
It’s not like I didn’t ask all three of Stella’s dads for their blessing.
That was the first thing I did when we returned from Russia last year.
It’s on them for keeping me waiting this long.
“Everything is ready, sir.” The pilot nods in greeting when we reach the stairs. “Flight plan is filed for Las Vegas. We can depart at your command.”
“Give us five minutes to get settled and we can go.”
“Yes, sir.”
The co-pilot beside him smiles at us like he’s trying really hard not to. And when his gaze catches on the garment bag, it cements his wide smile in place, knowing exactly what Stella and I are about to do.
Blyad.
He’s probably surprised it took us this long to elope. The two pilots have flown us to more than one exotic location before, so they know we’re pros when it comes to the honeymoon part of a marriage. It’s the ‘walking down the aisle part’ that’s taken us a hot minute to do.
And that’s because every fucking Romano seemed to be intent in beating us to the punch before we ever got the chance.
“We have champagne on ice and some food prepared for the flight,” the co-pilot suddenly remembers to say.
“Thank you,” Stella replies warmly. “That’s greatly appreciated.”
The fucker all but blushes under such praise.
It’s a fucking problem.
Everyone always seems to fall for my woman’s charm.
Staff, soldiers, enemies.
Makes my job that much harder. Makes my life that much sweeter, too.
We walk up the stairs, the metal rattling softly under our feet, each step an echo of the lifelong decision we’re about to make. Halfway up, Stella glances over her shoulder at the hangar. The city beyond it is only a distant glow through the open doors.
“Are you thinking of running,dusha moya?” I ask, teasingly.
“No.” She snorts. “Just checking if one of my brothers is going to materialize out of thin air to drag me back home, kicking and screaming. Marcello, in particular, comes to mind.”
“That would be an impressive thing for him to accomplish,” I say. “Since he would have to get through me first.”
