I give her hand a gentle squeeze.
The pilot’s voice crackles overhead. “We’ll be landing in Lucciana, Monsieur Gerard.”
“So we can make it to an airport in Northern Corsica, likely Bastia Poretta. See? We’ll be fine.”
Another lurch forward makes me look like a liar. Her grip on my hand tightens to nearly painful.
“How soon?” she whispers. It’s not out of the ordinary for someone to be afraid in such a situation. If anything, it would probably be out of the ordinary for hernotto be. But damn, it isn’t fair that just yesterday she was attacked and now we’re facing this.
“I’m not sure, but our pilot has this under control. We’ll be landing shortly and then figure out our next step. I know it’s scary, but he has this under control. There’s no reason to panic.”
I know literally nothing about airplanes, but I’m doing my best to keep her calm.
“Okay. Got it.” Another hair-raising dip tosses us in the air like we’re balloons bobbing in the wind. Clouds sail past our windows, and it looks for one minute as if we’re actually flying upside down.
Maybe it’s better not to look out the windows.
Nicolette’s knuckles are pure white as she grips my hand with a death grip.
“Let’s change the subject,” I try.
“We weren’t t-talking.” Her teeth chatter as if she’s freezing to death.
“We are now. Talk to me. Tell me.” I rack my brain. “What’s your favorite guilty pleasure?”
The plane rights itself for a minute.
“Fr-french pastries,” she stammers. “Most kinds as long as they’re fresh and accompanied by a nice strong cup of tea. Yours?”
“Expensive cars.”
That makes her laugh. Mission accomplished. “My guilty pleasure’s a lot more affordable.”
“Mine lasts a lot longer.”
“True, true. My turn. Do you have any pets?”
I shake my head. “No. I travel too often for pets, though Lyam has quite a snake collection.”
“Snakes!”
“Mhm. He wears them around his neck like jewelry.”
“No.Oh, God. I can’t believe your mother allows those.”
“He doesn’t live with her anymore.”
“Oh,” she says on a laugh. “Right.”
Good, good.
Another hard dip of the plane draws another whimper, but we only dip for seconds before we’re able to right again. I notice that we’re descending slowly. Our pilot has this fully under control.
“Do you have any special talents?” I ask her.
“Blow jobs.”
“Fucking hell. Let’s make it a million dollars,” I mutter.
