And there is no way I’ll be able to understand a word he’s saying toher.
Maybe if I listen close enough, I can make out at least one or two of the words. I mean how difficult can it be,right?
Placing my elbow onto the armrest that sits between his seat and mine, I lean my face against the palm of my hand, pretending to be resting when I’m really trying toeavesdrop.
“Sì, Nonna. Sono davvero contenta che domani ci vediamo,”he smiles and blows a kiss into the phone.“Ti adore,” he says before ending the call then placing the phone in the seat-backpocket.
Ti adore?Isn’t that like, I AdoreYou?
Gagme.
He looks at me, his expression quizzical. “What?”
“Was that your girlfriend?” I offer a magnifiedgrin.
“Who, Nonna? Uh—” he breaks off at the sound of the phone’s echoing vibration. He removes it from the pocket, and with bunched eyebrows, looks at the screen. “It’s Liza.Hello?”
He nods a few times. “Uh-huh. Well, great. That’s all we need.” He turns his head to face me, his dark-blues casting a look of annoyance that’s invading his almost-too-perfect features. He continues his conversation. “Okay, send me a screenshot of the photo when it surfaces please. Thanks,Liza.”
He ends the call, this timeshovinghis phone in the seatpocket.
“Is everything alright?” Iventure.
He shakes his head. “Apparently TMZ was doing what it does best—lurking at the airport. Liza says they claim to have captured a photo of me anda beautiful womantogether, as we got onto the escalator toward the securitycheckpoint.”
My eyeswiden.
“Yep. I’m not sure what the photo looks like, but they love to spin stuff for publicity. I’m so sorry. I hope the fact that you had sunglasses on helped shield your identity. I would hate to have you all over the media again. But odds are, since they’ve probably gathered I’m on my way to Italy, there’ll be more at the airport in Milan…waiting to snap morephotos.”
I place my hand on his forearm. “It’s alright. Whatever they’ve got or will get will blow over soonenough.”
He rubs his chin. “Right. The price of being a little popular, I guess. Still, I’d kill for a much more private life. I honestly don’t know how the other designers manage to avoid paparazzi and inflated newsstories.”
“Maybe they don’t have your looks andcharm.”
“Nor do they have thebeautiful womanby theirside?”
Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I shift my gaze from his sultry eyes to the window, reminding myself he’s notflirting.
He’s gotNonna.
A barrage of New York passengers board and, soon afterward, the plane pushes back and begins to taxi toward the runway. A different voice—this time a male with a brute Italian accent—takes on the pre-flight announcements and, before I know it, we are up in the airagain.
Once the pilot ascends the plane to the desired altitude, flight attendants begin to scurry about, preparing for beverage service. A slender flight attendant with mink-brown hair and a heavily made-up face approaches our seats. The cling-clang sound of her dangle bracelets sever the quietness in first class. She smiles at Antonio, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Antonio…it’s always a pleasure to see you on board one of myflights.”
Through gritted teeth Antonio replies, “Hello, Heather.” He peels her hand off his shoulder. “’You’re working first classtoday?”
Heather shifts to face us both, plastering an eager smile across her face. “Oh, no. They have me in coach but I couldn’t miss the chance to say hello.” She gives me a purposeful once-over. “You’re not sitting alonetoday?”
He replies curtly, “Nope. This isDaniella.”
I extend my hand to shake hers and she proceeds to shove her hands in herpockets.
Witch.
She tosses back her hair, saying, “Hmm. Well, enjoy the flight.” She hikes back toward coach, leaving a trail of cheap perfume in theatmosphere.
Antonio leans into me, our shoulders pressing. “Sorry about that. That woman gives me the creeps. I guess she likes me orsomething.”
