“Nathan, what is happening?” Gio’s annoying voice carried up the hallway.
I scrubbed my face with a palm. “A malfunction in the air system. She’s fixed it.” I glanced over at the cut oxygen masks. “But keep your mask on until we land in case the air goes bad.”
He groaned, realizing he’d have to spend the next four hours with the mask on his face, and it made my lips curl into a bitter half-smile. At least that should keep the fucker quiet.
16
OLIVIA
The man sittingcopilot was mute for the next hour, and all his unspoken words made me furious. How could he choose Gio after what he’d done?
It was three in the morning in Rome when Ethan climbed out of the seat and went to stand near the back of the space, something small held up to his ear.
“You can’t use a phone in the cockpit,” I snapped.
It was bullshit. Rory almost always left his on, but I was all for trying to exert power over Ethan when he left me feeling like I had none. He ignored me and spoke in a language I hadn’t heard from him before. German. It made his deep voice sound rough and scary, but I wanted to know what he was saying and to whom he was talking.
The conversation lasted a while, but when it was over, he didn’t return to the seat. I hadn’t heard him leave the cockpit, and by the time I discovered he’d gone, he was already on his way back to me with a water bottle in each hand.
I took one when he silently offered it and didn’t bother to thank him. I was too busy being pissed at myself for missing my opportunity to shut him out of the cockpit. He was a giant and moved without a sound. It made no sense, just like everything else about him.
“Who was that you called? Shawn?”
“No, and don’t say that name again.”
I glanced over at him, even though I wanted to pretend he didn’t exist. He looked lost in thought, his shoulders heavy. Even weary, he still appeared outwardly threatening. And attractive. He should be pissed with me. So why did worryetch his face when his attention turned to me?
“Let’s talk about some scenarios for when we land.” His tone was businesslike, and I was grateful to focus on that.
It was both comforting and terrifying to hear the Ciampino flight tower as we neared the airport. I was anxious about landing for the first time in a while, but it had nothing to do with the plane. Gio’s need for me was about to come to an end. Would Ethan hold up his end of the bargain when I hadn’t?
After we’d touched down and the tires rolled toward the hangar, he turned to me. “Olivia,” he said on a whisper, “it’s going to be okay. Trust me.”
I’d already proven that I didn’t. But his expression was intoxicating. Disarming. I felt my head nodding when my brain had yet to approve. He got out of his seat and used his large body to block the doorway into the cockpit while I slowed the jet to a stop, engaged the brake, and put away my headset.
My eyes burned with exhaustion and every bone in my body begged for sleep, but I continued to fight against it. These could be the final minutes of my life. I climbed out of the seat, forcing myself to get on with it. My gaze fell to the side compartment.
The metal latch popped open under my hurried hands, and I reached in, retrieving my logbook.
His voice was soft. “What are you doing?”
I stood, kicked the compartment closed, and thrust the small journal at him. “I’m old-school. I log every flight.” He peered down at the book, skeptical, until I added, “I made detailed notes.”
Understanding glanced through him. He took it quickly and tucked it in the back waistband of his pants, concealing the little journal beneath his shirt.
Footsteps pounded up the aisle. Gio was furious; at least, I assumed so. His high-pitched voice grated on my ears. I couldn’t see around the hulking American who had to bendhis neck to the side so he could fit in the cockpit when standing.
But whatever Ethan was saying had a calming effect, and after a tense minute, he must have convinced Gio to do something other than kill me. The irritated Italian strode to the cabin door and began to unlatch it.
“Let’s go,” Ethan said. “Stay behind me.”
In case Gio wants to be unpredictable again, I thought warily.
As soon as Gio had the stairs deployed, I expected him to scurry down them, but instead he remained in the aisle, leering at me. His expression was sick, full of evil malice. I was hyperaware of every subtle move of his hands, waiting for him to go for his gun.
But he didn’t.
The door was open, and the cold, fresh air of freedom seeped in, beckoning.
