Don’t do something you’ll regret, Red.
I quickly put my phone on airplane mode and tuck it into the inner pocket of my purse. Gabriel Matthews will not bully me into answering my own phone when I don’t want to.
When the waiter returns, I pour my second glass and sip again, letting the city spin around me while I think about the way Gabriel expects pieces of me I can’t give him yet. I let myself feel the guilt without trying to untangle it, because for tonight I exist on a rooftop, under string lights, with gnocchi and a second glass of wine, in a city that doesn’t know or care who I am supposed to be.
* Un espresso, per favore = One espresso, please
* Ah… ti sei un po’ persa = Ah… you’ve lost yourself a little.
* Succede. A volte ci si perde, prima di ritrovarsi = It happens. Sometimes you have to get lost before you find yourself again.
FOUR
GABRIEL | ROME
“We’ll be landingin fifteen minutes sir.” I look up from my laptop to find my pilot, Jonas, standing in front of me. “I’ve confirmed the handlers are ready on the tarmac to greet you as well.”
“Thank you, Jonas,” I say, closing my laptop.
He nods and flashes me a polite smile before shuffling back to the cockpit to begin the landing process. A couple minutes later we hit some turbulence and Vienna, the private flight attendant on my flight team, approaches.
She’s a fit woman with pin-straight long black hair that reaches her lower back, and red lipstick that is always perfectly applied.
“We’re seeing windier conditions as we descend, likely due to it being winter here,” she says, taking a seat across from me with a feline smile.
She’s pretty, but not my type. Though, by the way she stares at me each time we fly together, I am most definitely her type. Or, at the very least, my wallet is.
“Got it,” I say, focused on packing up my laptop.
“You look good in glasses,” she purrs after a moment. “Really good.”
I zip my laptop bag closed as we hit another round of turbulence and finally look at her. Her boobs are pushed up so high they almost spill out of her uniform, and instead of having the desired effect, I find myself wondering how quickly I could find a reliable replacement for her.
The only reason I’ve kept her around is because she has never bailed on a flight, usually keeps to her job assignments, and is more focused on her appearance than she is on what I’m doing or who I’m talking to. But, constantly shutting down her advances is becoming quite the annoyance lately.
“Thank you,” I say, removing them and putting them into their carrying case. “They’re new.”
“Gosh,” she uses her hand to fan herself, “I keep thinking you’ll get less attractive as you age but I swear you’re just getting hotter and hotter every time I see you.”
I force a small smile on my face, deciding that she’s got to go. “I’m still not available, Vienna.”
She pouts, but when I don’t react she stands up and creeps her way back to the front of my jet where she’s supposed to be sitting.
When we finally land at the Ciampino Airport in Rome, I quickly deplane the aircraft as the doors open, thanking Jonas on the way out for another smooth flight. Vienna has decided to hide away somewhere on the aircraft to avoid an awkward goodbye, and I’m grateful for it.
However, when I step off the last stair, I find myself standing in front of a car that looks less like the luxury car that would normally be arranged to pick me up from airports, and more like something a chipmunk would drive. A bright red Smart Fortwo, about the size of my suitcase, stares back at me.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter as I stare at it, wondering how the hell I’m going to fit in this thing.
“Welcome back to Italy, Mr. Matthews. It’s been a few years since you’ve last visited,” my handler, a balding middle-aged Italian man says, his accent thick.
I don’t answer him as I continue staring at the car, positive this must be some mixup.
“Ah yes,” he says, clapping his hands together as he looks from me to the vehicle. “We were a bit surprised when your assistant booked this vehicle for you. We confirmed with him multiple times that this was what he meant to book, and he confirmed you wanted this exact vehicle down to the colour.”
I grind my teeth together, trying to calm the building frustration. “Thank you for confirming with him,” I say, forcing a smile. “I’m sure he’s right.”
My handler hums before taking my passport and visa documents from me. “I’ll get these processed for you at customs and bring them back out once done.” He gestures to the vehicle. “Please, get comfortable. The rest of our team will get your bags and perform the usual aircraft maintenance.”
