“They are. I’m babysitting you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, thank you very much.”
He just looks at me and raises a brow.
I exhale again. “How do I know it’s not poisoned?”
He laughs. “That’s not how I clip someone.”
His words are hardly reassuring.
“Is it roofied?” I ask next.
“Mother Mary,” he growls, scrubbing a hand along his jaw. “Just drink the damn wine.”
I can feel the plane preparing for takeoff. It’s that shift as the engines pick up, and we’re poised on the runway, waiting for the orders that it’s go-time. I suppose the wine couldn’t hurt. I take a sip as we start to move.
Think about what you can control, I remind myself sternly.
Deep breaths.
We achieve lift-off effortlessly, as if it’s a natural state. And as we hit the smooth glide of the ascent, I take a few more sips of wine. I’m not calm. Far from it. But I’m not coming out of my skin either. I’ll take it.
I know from experience that distracting myself is the key. Maybe I’ll try reading, even if it’s impossible with Alessio sitting so close.
“Better?” he asks.
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine to me.”
“Thanks for the compliment.”
“Look, I need to have a conversation with you. I want to make sure we’re on the same page, and I’d like to get it out of the way now, because when we hit the ground, I’m going to have a shit-ton of work to do after being gone like this.”
He’s all business. Any hint of tenderness or concern has been ruthlessly excised until all that’s left is a harsh, cold mobster. The kind of man who’s capable of anything.
I down the rest of my wine, bracing myself.
“By all means, get it over with.”
Saint
There’ssomething wrong with Isla.
Something that goes way beyond a fear of flying. It’s profoundly deeper. But whatever it is, she’s not willing to let me in on her dark little secret. Now that we’re finally in the air, a bit of her fire has returned, but it’s just a spark instead of a roaring flame.
It doesn’t matter to me.
Shouldn’t matter to me.
I don’t need to play therapist and patient with her. I just need to tell her what she has to know while she’s cat-sitting for Luna and Priest the next two weeks. I’m going to be her lifeline, and even if it irks the shit out of me, I have no choice.
“I’ll be taking you to the penthouse,” I tell her, forcing my mind to my job.
It’s a difficult switch to make, leaving the chill of the islands to head back to the rat race and the game of cat and mouse we play on a daily basis. But this is the only life we’ve ever known. And more importantly, it’s made us wealthy and powerful as fuck.
“I can get an Uber,” she tells me.
