‘I thought… I… We…’ He struggles. I look on with raised eyebrows and crossed arms. ‘Oh just forget it.’
‘You really can’t keep it in your pants for one day, can you?’
He rolls his eyes and steps around the plant. ‘Fuck you.’
‘Right back at ya, sweetheart.’
Chapter 17
JULES
BOLOGNA
I’m waiting for the receptionist to stopfannyingaroundon his computer and justfind us two roomswhen Isa comes striding up.
‘Hey guys!’ she sings, a grin lighting up her face.
It’s not her fault we’re in this predicament. It’s not her fault I’ll probably miss my meeting with Apex Sport about a very lucrative potential new collab for Tom and I. It’s not her fault the Emilia Romagna Grand Prix produced zero interactions with Tom because her stupid brother was too busy, and is possibly (definitely) avoiding me.
I force my lips into a smile that’s hopefully half convincing. ‘Morning.’
She takes in the dishevelled hair, the bags at our feet, Nyla furiously checking flights on her phone. ‘Is everything… alright?’
‘Our flight’s been delayed untiltomorrow,’ Nyla explains, while I tap my nails against the counter. Tick tock, Antonio.Tick tock!
‘What? Why?’
‘Something about a delayed inbound.’ Nyla shakes her head. ‘Jules has a big meeting in New York tomorrow morning and?—’
Isa claps her hands over her mouth and inhales so melodramatically I stop tapping. ‘You’renevergoing to believe this.’
‘What?’ Nyla and I say in unison.
‘We’re going to New York! Come with us!’
I don’t want to be the one who points out planes aren’t like buses, when Nyla beats me to it. ‘Is there room?’
‘Tonsof room.’
‘Really? Because I can’t find a single flight going today with any space whatsoever.’
‘Oh.’ Isa starts laughing. ‘It’s not a commercial flight, it’s our plane.’
They have aprivate jet? Wait, of course they do. Their dad owns half the property in South America or something.
Eleven hours. With Tiago. In a confined space.
Flying.
I start shaking my head slowly and get progressively more frantic. ‘We couldn’t possibly impose?—’
‘Nonsense! We’d love to have you.’
‘I—’
‘Jules,’ Nyla says softly. ‘This meeting’s really important.’
Urgh, she’s right. I hate that she’s right.
