I lower my voice. “You do know they are kidnapping me. Please alert the captain or the authorities when we land.”
The pity in her eyes speaks more than her unspoken response, and she points to the seat. “Please, I’ll arrange some refreshments when we are airborne.”
I reward her with an angry scowl, and as I strap myself in, the door slams behind me and the engines whirr.
I don’t look around me. I couldn’t care less who is on this plane because I wasn’t kidding; as soon as I get the chance, I’m out of here, and there is nothing that beast or his assassins can do about that.
We areairborne inside of five minutes, and I grip the edge of the seat, tears burning behind my eyes, threatening to reveal my weakness. I am being hunted as a murderer and married off to a criminal, and as days go, I’ve had a lot better.
As soon as the plane levels out, the seatbelt sign goes off, and the attendant reappears with a soft smile.
“May I offer you a drink from the bar?”
“Water, please.”
She nods, leaving me to polish my anger, and I hate that I have nobody to unleash it on. The beast has obviously crawled into his cave because it appears that I am alone, which is a very scary place to be.
When the woman returns with a cool glass of water, I accept it with a grateful smile and slump back in my seat, wishing I wasn’t wearing the habit. It used to be a safe place to hide. Anonymous, even and yet out here, in the real world, it’s as if I’m wearing a target on my back. I stick out like a rusty nail in a modern home, and I do the only thing possible and lower the head covering. Perhaps the attendant has some scissors, and I can cut it shorter, perhaps attempt to restyle it into something a little more flattering. Not that I have anyone I wish to impress; if anything, I shouldn’t care less what I’m wearing, but surrounded by people who obviously dress immaculately only reinforces my own sense of having fuckity all.
My mind is made up, so I unfasten the belt and head to the galley at the front of the plane, locating the attendant who appears to be arranging some kind of feast out of nowhere.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did you want something, Miss Zaferelli?”
For some reason she appears flustered and anxious, and I shake my head in an attempt to reassure her.
“I don’t suppose you have any scissors. It’s just that I want to restyle my outfit. It’s a little too ostentatious for my liking.”
I smile in a weak attempt at humor, and her smile softens.
“I’m afraid I don’t, merely a crash ax.”
“I could use one of those.”
She chuckles softly. “You and me both.”
Her eyes wander past me, and the resignation in her smile earns me a fleeting hope of finding a friend.
“I have something you could use.”
“You do?”
“Yes, my overnight bag is in the cupboard, and I am happy to give you my dress to wear. It’s clean and we appear to be the same size.”
“Would you really do that for me?”
I’m touched, and she smiles sympathetically.
“Of course. Give me a minute. You can change in the toilet, or I could ask Mr. Ravera if you could use the bedroom if you prefer.”
“The bedroom?”
I die a little inside. Of course, he has a frigging bedroom. He is just like my father who enjoyed his comforts while leaving his daughters to spend the flight time in their seats while he disappeared with his fuck toy Morgan.
“The toilet will be fine, thank you. I appreciate your help.”
I nod toward the food she is preparing.
“Can I help you with that?”
