Before I can get comfortable, or make a cup of coffee, we’re already being ushered onto the tarmac. At least the plane looks normal from the outside. Smaller than other planes I’ve been on, but normal. I walk up the small set of stairs, Locke following behind me, and step in.
I lied. This is anything but normal.
I’m met with a view of wide, cream-colored leather seats, two facing each other on each side of the aisle. There’s a small sitting area with a couch lining the wall and a TV stand across from it. Wood panels conceal another space in the back, but I’m too stunned to wonder what might be behind them.
I sink into one of the plush seats; it’s far more comfortable than any other plane seat I’ve ever been in, and there’s plenty of room to stretch my legs.
Locke chooses the seat directly across from me. I’m still holding my champagne as a woman in a fitted navy uniform sets a bottle ofwhiskey and two glasses on the ledge next to him. She mutters something about takeoff and mentions the length of our flight: eleven hours.
Eleven hours in the sky. With him. With my own thoughts. I’m not sure which is worse.
“Why, exactly, are we suddenly on a plane to Italy?” The words spill out before I have a chance to ponder why he might be keeping that information from me.
His lips spread in a wide grin. “It’s a surprise.”
“A surprise? For me?” I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t like surprises. Can’t you just tell me?”
He chuckles, shaking his head slightly and sipping his fresh glass of whiskey. “Nope, you’ll just have to wait.”
I cross my arms, pouting for a moment before leaning back and downing what’s left of my champagne. Then, I close my eyes, hoping I’ll finally be able to get some sleep after the long night we’ve had.
They don’t stay closed long before I hear his familiar voice.
“Another?” My eyes snap open, and I see Locke standing right in front of me.
“Are you trying to get me drunk already?” I snap back.
He shrugs. “Just trying to make this flight tolerable.”
“For you or for me?”
He doesn’t answer, but his mouth twitches like he’s amused by the question.
“I don’t want to get drunk; I just want to sleep,” I add.
He says nothing in return. Instead, he drops into a crouch, his shoulder brushing my knee as he unlatches a hidden compartment at the base of my seat.
He pulls out a small, plush blanket, shaking it open in front of him. The movement makes me flinch. It’s a small reaction, but he notices and pauses.
I spent years tucking blankets around a woman who didn’t even seem to feel them, checking for a pulse that eventually wasn’t there. I don’t need his version of care. I don’t want anybody looking after me.
Still, as he leans in to drape the cashmere over my lap, his smoky, woodsy scent hits me. Suddenly, I forget I don’t want this. I forget how to breathe.
“Get comfortable,” he mutters, the words sharp in the quiet space, but he doesn’t move. He stays right in front of me, waiting, his gaze unwavering.
I don’t move, just mutter a quiet “thanks” before closing my eyes again.
Then, he slowly picks up his glass and relaxes back into his own seat.
Chapter 21
LOCKE
It’s been over an hour, and neither of us has slept. We haven’t said a single word to each other either, but we don’t need to.
Every second on this plane tightens the tension between us. I should say something, break the silence, maybe tell her what surprise is waiting for us in Italy. But I can’t rip my eyes away from the curve of her perfect lips.
The events of the night play on a loop in my head. Nate dropping her off at my door, Luke’s party, whatever that moment was in front of Sienna. Any of those should have shaken her up. Instead, she’s sitting across from me with her head tilted back and eyes closed. Pretending to sleep again, or trying to.
