Then, to his surprise, she removed her shoe and started to run her bare foot up his leg.
“No,” he said.
She pulled her foot off him. “Like I said, I haven’t worked for you in a while, but I remember we had some wild fun. As I recall, you initiated me into the Mile High club.”
He didn’t remember her. Had she changed her hair? Lost weight? Gained weight?
Her shoulders fell. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
“When was this?”
“Three years ago,” she replied. “You were flying to Italy. I was married. My husband was cheating on me, so I returned the favor… with you.”
“Did you repair your marriage?”
She held up her left hand. “I’m single now and on all the dating sites. You should look me up.”
“I’m not online.”
“Seriously? Why not? I thought you ran Santini International Euro and your alcohol companies.”
“I do.”
“You don’t post about them?”
“I have marketing teams for that.”
“What about your private account?”
Gabriel had had enough. He held up his right hand, displaying his GPS ring. “I’m with someone now.”
She dismissed him with a flick of her hand. “So what? That piece of metal doesn’t stop anybody these days. Don’t be such a prude.”
“This conversation is over.” He tossed a nod to the flight attendant seat. “Please take your seat up there.”
Her cheeks turned tomato red. She slid on her shoe and relocated to the front of the cabin.
The pilot’s smooth voice cut through the conversation. “Mr. Santini, we’re next in line for takeoff. The flight time is approximately nine hours with a six-hour time difference. We’ll be landing at one o’clock in the morning, local time. Relax and enjoy the ride.”
Gabriel was anything but relaxed.
The person trying to kill him had taken out his best friend and his best friend’s father wanted him to marry someone he’d never liked… much less respected. Halston was in danger of being found out by the Russians and linked to his killing spree in the BDSM club. He couldn’t stay and protect her because the Bratva had taken over his Italian whisky plant and were threatening to burn down his Tuscan winery.
He felt like a damn cat chasing its tail. Frustration coiled around his spine like a python.
With everything going so fucking right… what could possibly go wrong?
17
GABRIEL RETURNS TO ITALY
HALSTON
Halston helped the ambassador navigate the State Department meeting, staying on top of the myriad of conversations. As expected, it had run over. This one topped four hours. En route back to the embassy, the ambassador made a call, then directed his driver to his dentist in DC.
“Do you want me to come inside with you?” he asked.
“You should get back to the embassy, sir.”
