The admission strikes me harder than it should. Another reminder of how limited her world has been. How much there is to show her. How much power I have over her experiences now.
Somehow, I never even considered how scary it can be the first time you fly. Not willing to let her face it alone, I take the seat next to her instead.
“You’re nervous,” I observe, capturing her fidgeting hands.
She nods, chewing her lower lip. “Is it scary? Taking off? What about landing? Or—”
“No,” I lie smoothly, stroking my thumb over her pulse point. “It’ll all be fine. I promise.”
The pilot’s voice comes over the intercom, informing us we’re ready for departure. Alina’s hand tightens around mine, her knuckles whitening as the engines roar to life.
“Look at me,” I command softly when her eyes dart nervously to the window. “Just at me, Mogliettina.”
She obeys, her pale blue eyes locking onto mine as the jet begins to move, taxiing toward the runway. I keep her gaze captured with mine, a silent tether as we pick up speed.
“That’s my good girl,” I murmur, watching her pupils dilate at the praise. “Just breathe.”
The force of takeoff presses us back into our seats, and Alina gasps, her nails digging crescents into my palm. But she doesn’t look away, doesn’t close her eyes. She trusts me to guide her through this new experience.
The knowledge is intoxicating.
Only when we level off, the seat belt sign dimming with a soft chime, do I release her from my gaze. “There. Was that so bad?”
She exhales shakily, a smile tugging at her lips. “No. It was actually… exhilarating.”
Chapter 35
Raffaele
The attendant approaches with champagne, pouring two flutes before disappearing toward the front of the cabin. I hand one to Alina, clinking mine against it gently.
“To new experiences,” I say, watching her over the rim of my glass.
She takes a sip, her eyes never leaving mine. “To new experiences,” she echoes. “And maybe to you finally telling me where we’re going?”
I smirk, settling back in my seat. “We’re heading south.”
“You already said that,” she pouts, the expression unexpectedly erotic on her usually serious face. “But where? I deserve at least a hint.”
“Do you now, Mrs. Brewer-Russo?” I smirk, enjoying her frustration too much to give in.
“Raffaele,” she whines, leaning forward, placing her hand on my knee. “Why won’t you tell me?”
I capture her hand, bringing it to my lips. “Because your anticipation amuses me,” I admit, kissing her knuckles. “And because I want to see your face when you discover it for yourself.”
She huffs, but there’s no real irritation in it. “Fine. Keep your secrets.”
I get up from my seat and move to the one directly opposite her. Then I slide my hand under the table to the compartment hidden there. “We could,” I say, pulling the compact square out. “Play for hints.”
With those words, I set up the travel chess board. Alina’s eyes light up. “Now you’re talking,” she grins.
After about half an hour, the flight attendant returns with food and later with snacks. The flight passes as we play for clues. I let her win each game, but don’t give anything real away despite her trying various tactics to extract information.
Direct questions, casual mentions of climates and currencies, even attempted bribery with kisses that grow increasingly heated until I’m tempted to drag her to the private bedroom at the rear of the jet.
But I resist. I want us to be at our destination before I claim her again.
Throughout the flight, I find my fingers returning to her wedding ring, touching it, turning it on her finger. A tactile reminder that she’s mine now, bound to me in ways that go beyond the collection of a debt.
