Every second on this plane brought me closer to losing whatever I had left of my freedom.
I cleared my throat before speaking for the first time. “How long’s the flight?”
No response. Achilles tossed a card into a pile, muttering something in Italian. The other men barked out a laugh. I closed my eyes and drew in a breath.
I wasn’t prone to panic attacks anymore. I’d buried my past so deep inside my head, I no longer recognized it as a part ofme. But whenever I did get them, they were bad. Achilles used to help me when we were younger. Hug me extra tight. Talk me through my emotions.
“Tell me five things you see. Four things you hear. Three things you can touch. Two things you can smell. One thing you can taste.”
That one thing used to be his mouth. I’d reach on my toes and kiss him, and my anxiety would melt away like wax under hot water.
He wasn’t that boy anymore. But I was still that girl.
The one who remembered the only safe place she ever knew was inside his arms.
The chatter in Neapolitan grew more boisterous. The men lit up cigarettes, pouring whiskey into tumblers.
I logged on to the Wi-Fi and googled the flight time. Nine hours. Okay, plenty of time to work with. I could find a way to convince him to turn the airplane around.
“Can you tell me where in Naples I’ll live?” I asked evenly. Maybe if Achilles realized this was real—that he was really handing me over to be fucked by someone else—it’d stir something in him.
No response. I knew he heard me.Asshole.
“I hope you’re not attending the wedding, because I’m not sending you an invitation.”
No answer.
“Does he know he’s getting your leftovers?” No answer.
My pulse hammered against every inch of my skin.
I needed to get his attention, and he was hell-bent on not giving it to me.
But Tiernan was right. I’d always been creative. The penny dropped when I realized I didn’t necessarily need to gethisattention. If I got his soldiers’ attention, that’d be enough to piss him off.
I was wearing a summer dress—yellow with blue and pink flowers—with white ankle socks and a pair of Mary Janes. With a pout, I stretched across the recliner toward my tote bag on the side table, allowing my dress to ride up until my white cotton underwear was showing.
The chatter and laughter stopped.
“Can’t find my AirPods,” I sighed, wiggling my ass in the air, now on all fours on the recliner to reach my perfectly reachable bag. “Anybody seen them?”
I felt his eyes burning my ass like a good spanking.
Fabio cleared his throat. “You’re wearing them.”
“Oh. Silly me.” I reached to one of my ears, popping the AirPod out and letting it fall to the floor. “Oops, so clumsy.” I stood up and turned around, giving them a good angle of my ass as I bent down to pick it up. It wasn’t the most sophisticated warfare scheme—but it was a bulletproof one.
Achilles decided he’d had enough.
He barked something in Neapolitan. His soldiers stood up and slinked to the back of the plane, leaving their cards behind.
“Show’s over, Piccola Fiamma.”
“No way. I’ve only just begun,” I countered. I twirled on my toes, swiveling to face him and tossing my hair back. “Once they’re back, I’m going to give your soldiers a show they’ll never forg?—”
“What do you want?” he said, cutting me off, sprawling in his seat. He rested his inked paw on his thigh, every inch of him deeply tanned and muscular.
“You know what I want.” I kept the breathless panic from my voice. “I want out of this arrangement. I’ve never even met the guy.”
