“You bet.” He doesn’t bother hiding the smug grin on his face.
We both know as soon as he gives Alexander the message, my phone will be blowing up with texts and calls.
Luckily, by then I’ll be at least thirty thousand feet up in the air, and my phone will be having trouble getting them.
“We’re all fueled and ready for takeoff when you’re ready, sir.” The pilot greets me as I step onto the plane.
“We’re ready now.” I brush past him into the main cabin.
Sienna is seated in the first chair. She’s slipped out of her heels and has her feet tucked under her as she leans toward the window looking out.
The immediate tension in her shoulders as I step forward strikes a nerve. She’d been so relaxed with me last night, but now she’s ready to go off like a firecracker with my mere presence.
She’s Marco DeAngelo’s sister. Of course she has two different personalities. She probably drinks the blood of babies for breakfast.
Okay, that’s not fair. But too fucking bad. Her family is the reason for this whole debacle. The reason my sister is lost in a depression I can’t get her out of. The reason my businesses have been burned to the ground. The reason my fucking deal with the city council to get the new casino resort up and running is taking so fucking long to settle.
I pause at her row, glance at the empty seat beside her. Deciding to give her a respite, I keep moving to the back of the jet and take the last seat.
“Your drink.” Darlene, one of the flight attendants familiar with my family— and even more familiar with me— leans over to me, placing the glass down on the drink table. The top two buttons of her blouse are undone, giving me a first-row view of her generous curves inside.
“It’s a short flight, but if you needanything. Please let me know.” She winks, while gesturing subtly with her chin toward the private compartment on the other side of the restrooms.
I clear my throat. “Be sure my wife has whatever she needs for takeoff.”
Her smile freezes; there’s less flirtation in her eyes now.
“Of course,sir.” The emphasis on the last word isn’t a show of respect, it’s a reminder of how easily I could put her on her knees if I wanted.
I let her walk away without responding. A month ago—fuck two nights ago—I would have abandoned my drink, forgotten any rules the FCC might have about fucking during takeoff, and taken Darlene up on her offer.
She’s hot in the conventional sense. Sultry body, pretty face, and she’s willing to do pretty much anything that will get us both off. But nothing about her is doing it for me today.
Just to confirm, I watch her while she addresses Sienna, who must have asked for something because Darlene heads to the galley. There’s plenty of time to enjoy her ass swaying, and her profile while she does her job. Yet, I don’t spare her so much as a millisecond.
Instead, my focus is locked on Sienna. She gets up, takes the blanket off the empty chair beside her, and gets back into her seat, draping the blanket over her lap. Darlene returns, hands her a bottle of water, and informs her we’re taking off in a minute.
From the space between the seats, I notice Sienna gripping the armrest as though she’s afraid she’s going to fly out of the plane as we pick up speed and lift off into the sky. Not until we’ve leveled off and the captain announces we’re at altitude does her grip soften. It’s still another twenty minutes before she relaxes enough to let go of the armrests.
Has she never flown before?
Her family laid their roots in New York, but her brothers have been working over the last ten years to spread their influence into Chicago. Is it possible she’s never been to Chicago until tonight?
I’d had her pegged as a spoiled princess who probably had a private jet on standby to whisk her away at the snap of her fingers. So far, Sienna is proving to be very different than what I built her up as in my mind.
Halfway through the flight, I leave my seat, no longer content with watching her from a distance.
When I take the seat beside her, she stiffens, but keeps her eyes planted on the screen of her phone. She’s watching a movie with subtitles and no sound.
“We have earphones. You only needed to ask,” I say.
She shifts her position further away, her shoulder leaning against the wall of the plane.
“If you’re hungry or thirsty, we have everything stocked. Dinner if you want.”
More aggressively than needed, she hits the screen with her thumb to pause the movie.
“I had dinner at our wedding reception. I’m fine.”
