Page 27 of From Rome, With Hate

I open my eyes to find Rome sitting across from me in the dark. With my head pounding, I peel my face from whatever it was I fell asleep on and prop myself up high enough to realize I’m lying across a long leather bench. A loud whooshing sound fills my ears, making the pounding in my head a million times worse. Then it dawns on me.

We’re on a fucking plane.

The entire cabin is dark, aside from the dim overhead lights.

Groaning, I sit up, pressing a hand to my head. It feels like I banged it against a brick wall. Repeatedly.

“Where are we?” I grumble, thinking I may just vomit from speaking. My mouth is dry, and I’m desperate for a glass of water, but the thought of that also makes me feel sick. Oh, God, I’m so hungover. I peer up at Rome through a heavy-lidded gaze.

“Good.” Rome keeps his focus on his phone cradled in his hand. “You’re awake.”

“Unfortunately.” I sigh, swinging my legs off the bench. My feet are bare and freezing. I tilt my head, confused. “Where are my shoes?”

“I took them off,” Rome states blandly, still refusing to look up. “You don’t like sleeping with anything on your feet.”

I snort and roll my eyes. “That was oddly considerate of you.”

Silence.

And that’s how it remains as I take in what’s happening. I’m hungover and flying on Rome’s private jet.

Memories of last night come back in waves, starting with my decision to go out on my own because everyone in my life actually has lives. I was on my fourth martini when Rome made his appearance, demanding to cash in on his debt. Then I remember sliding into the back seat of his Aston Martin. I told him I was going to vomit all over his seats, but I don’t think I did because all I remember telling him is how I researched tattoo removal and suggested a place he could go to get the bird on his neck taken off. All he did was roll his eyes so hard, I thought they might roll to the back of my head. I must have passed out seconds later.

Now I’m flying thousands of feet in the air with the world’s worst hangover and the world’s worst person.

“Where are we going?”

“You should drink,” he orders, ignoring my question. “Vodka martinis leave the worst hangovers.” He points to the table beside my seat.

Silently screaming for relief, I grab the water bottle and crack the top open. I chug half of it before twisting the cap back on and setting it back down.

“You still haven’t answered my question.” If we’re on his plane, our destination must be far from New York City. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t need to answer you. We’re about to land.” He’s still scrolling through his phone. I fight the urge to jump out of my seat and snatch it from his hand, then throw it at him.

“I’m supposed to be at work right now.” Realizing I don’t have my phone, I frantically look around the cabin. “Where’s my purse?” My gaze falls on Rome as he picks my sparkling clutchfrom beside him in the seat and holds it up. “Great.” I tighten my lips and hold out my hand. “Can I have it? I need to call my office.”

He drops my purse, setting it back between the arm of his chair and his thigh. “Not yet.”

“Seriously? Give it back, Rome.” My patience is wearing thin. I grind my jaw, anger simmering under my skin.

“I will, but not until after we land.”

“If I don’t let work know I’m going to be late, I’ll be in trouble.”

“With whom?” he asks, clearly finding my comment funny. “You’re the boss. You don’t report to anyone.”

“My staff care about me. They’ll be worried if I don’t come in when I normally do. They’ll probably call the cops.”

He flicks his wrist to read the time on his Cartier watch as if he’s bored. As if he hasn’t already read the time on his phone screen. “It’s only six in the morning. You have time before your coworkers file a missing person’s report.”

I curl my hands into tight fists at my sides. “Dammit, Rome. Stop playing games with me.”

“I’m not.”

“You kidnapped me in the middle of the night.”

He holds up a single finger. “One, you’re an adult, so it’s technically abduction, not kidnapping.” Then he sticks up another. “Second, I didn’t abduct you. You agreed to get in the car.”