“When I first saw you, I didn’t want to look away. I knew if I kept staring the way I was, you would’ve thought I was a fucking creep.”
I laugh. “You were staring like a creeper. A hot creeper.” My lips trace along his bearded jawline as my fingers grip his hard cock in his slacks.
“Keep rubbing my dick like that and you’ll never make it back there to cook dinner,” he warns.
I pull back, smiling. “After dinner, I want to join the mile-high club.”
“That can definitely be arranged.” He winks.
The illuminated seatbelt sign above indicates that I’m now free to move about the plane.
“I’m going to make dinner.” I stand to my feet.
“Serenity, you don’t have to cook. It’s our honeymoon.”
I shrug. “I want to.”
Sauntering toward the galley kitchen, I take in the flight attendant.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Pitucco. My name is Vera. Can I get you anything?”
“No. I’m cooking for Nico and I. Check on our security staff, please.”
She smiles. “Right away, Mrs. Pitucco.”
I watch as she approaches Miff, then I reach under the counter and retrieve two pans.
“What?” I hear Miff ask.
I place the pans on the stove. I then reach into the fridge for a few items I need.
“You’re cooking dinner for Nico?”
The scowl on his face tells me how he feels about me.
“Yes. Test as much of the food as you’d like.”
His eyes darken. “Did he tell you what happened to him?”
I can see the hurt in his gaze.
I close my eyes briefly. “Yes. I know he almost died for me. I won’t try to kill him…again.”
“He loves you too much,” he tells me.
“We love each other,” I whisper.
“I told Nico this is my war. He won’t hear of it. Nico married me so I couldn’t tell him it was just my war.”
“I lost my best friend,” his voice cracks. “And I nearly lost my boss, who fell for a girl with a troubled past.” He offers a faint, bittersweet smile.
“You don’t know what it was like. I wasn’t sure if he’d wake up.” He gestures with his hands. “There were all these tubes coming from his body.”
I notice the streaks of gray in his beard and around his temples. Nico’s brush with death has aged him. Miff must be pushing his late thirties.
He pulls out his phone, taps the screen a few times, then places the phone in my hand. I stare at the first photo of Nico lying in a hospital bed, unconscious. He looks so vulnerable. It’s one thing to imagine what Nico looked like. It’s another when you see it with your own two eyes. I swipe to the video.
“Nico, you have to wake up.” Miff grips Nico’s hand. “If you want to see Serenity again.”
