Until now.
I wipe the sheen of sweat from my brow and gather my things, throwing my jacket back on and lifting my bag down from the overhead locker. Despite my desperate need to get off this aircraft, I stay until the last of the passengers have exited, just so I can be near her for a little longer. Even if she blanks me or treats me like I’m just another passenger—Ineed one more glance. Just one more hit, not knowing when I’ll see her again.
While I wait, I turn my phone off airplane mode and check the messages filtering in. Including an email from Dom.
Rosetta Conti ceased to exist eight years ago and Grace Finch came on the scene around the same time. Definitely the same person from the photo scan. Although there isn’t much online for Grace other than a flight attendant ID registered with the airline company. Her son is pretty obscure, too. Apart from her working with the airline within a public-facing role, the two have kept a low profile.
Thanks. I’ve spoken to her. She acknowledged me when I cornered her in the restroom. Get me an address. Everything you can find. Especially on the son. And the ex. Magnus Berlusconi. Last I heard, he was still serving time.
I shove my phone in the inside pocket of my jacket and make my way to the exit, carrying my holdall.
Rose holds out her hand. “Thank you for flying with us today, sir.”
I take her hand in mine, then lean in to whisper, “It’s been a pleasure.” Damn, her scent drives me wild. My lips brush against her neck, barely a hair’s breadth, but I don’t miss how her body reacts to me as she shivers, sucking in a sharp breath. I commit this moment to memory, inhaling her sweet floral aroma as if she bathes in rose petals. “I’ll see you soon.”
Her eyes narrow, as if annoyed by my assumption.
I let go of her hand and give her a wink before I step onto the metal staircase. The sun warms my face and even though my life’s just become a lot more complicated, I’m walking onair. I’ve no idea when I’ll see her again, but I’m gonna make damn sure when I return home, I’m on her flight.
If I have to take more trips to get closer to her, then so be it.
Finally through passport control,I walk through the departure lounge and look for Riccardo’s driver, but I’m greeted by my cousin instead.
“Look at you. You old bastard.” He throws his arm around me with a hearty laugh.
“I’m still fitter than you.”
“I don’t doubt it.” He pats his slightly rotund belly. “It’s what good living and a good woman does to a man. You should try settling down, my friend.”
I huff out a laugh. Two things that have evaded me so far. “How can I when I’m always busy working for you?”
We walk towards the black car waiting at the departure exit, Riccardo telling me all about his growing family. The guy must have a breeding kink as his wife’s always pregnant.
“Smoke?” Riccardo offers me a cigarette as we step out into the warm air.
I shake my head. “Haven’t smoked in years.” Although, I could fucking do with one right now. Instead, I slip my hand into my emergency packet of gum for times like this when I’m tempted.
The driver lifts the boot, and I drop my holdall from my shoulder onto the carpeted interior. That fresh valeted car smell hits my nose, along with a hint of leather from the seats.
Popping a piece of gum into my mouth, I let my jaw hang open as Rose exits the automatic doors, pulling a small grey case on wheels.
“You getting in?” Riccardo says, lowering his window.
I chew on the gum, thinking about my next move.
Rose climbs into a white taxi.
“I’ll catch up with you at the house.” Before I let Riccardo respond, I’m jogging over to the taxi stand.
4
ROSE
The disinfectant smell hits me before I reach Mamma’s floor, bringing back memories of all the times I’ve been in the emergency room with various injuries. Whether in Rome or England, hospitals smell the same. “How is she?” I ask my brother, Elio, as I walk down the brightly lit corridor.
“Lei non è brava. She’s been asking for you.” Elio pauses, rubbing a hand over the lines on his forehead. “I think she’s waiting for you. Before…” His hand runs through his dark hair peppered with grey, showing the telltale signs of age and the stresses of life. “I’m sorry, sorella. I wouldn’t have contacted you if it wasn’t necessary.”
“Sì, I know.” I stroke his arm, the fine weave of his luxury suit soft beneath my palm.
