“Nothing.” I shook my head, still smiling. “Just… this is a lot.”
“It’s a plane.”
“It’s a palace with engines.”
He laughed, low and warm, and the sound did something dangerous to my chest. “Wait until you see the bedroom.”
My cheeks flushed. “Lorenzo.”
“What? I’m told it’s quite comfortable.” His eyes glittered with mischief. “For sleeping. Obviously.”
“Obviously.”
The engines hummed to life, a low vibration that traveled through the floor and up into my bones. I gripped the armrest as the plane began to taxi, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The plane turned onto the runway, and the engines roared. I felt the world tilt, pressing me into my seat. I tried grounding myself, fingers digging into the leather. I could feel every bump in the tarmac, every shudder of the wheels until anxiety prickled through me. That was until a hand landed on my thigh — warm, heavy,grounding.
I gasped, eyes flying open as Lorenzo quietly moved to the seat beside me. Heat flared at the touch of his palm resting just above my knee.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low in my ear. “Look at me.”
I turned my head, meeting his gaze. Dark eyes, steady and sure. The kind of eyes that had seen things I couldn’t imagine and survived them.
“You’re okay,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”
“We’re so high up?—”
“Close your eyes.”
I did.
“Breathe with me. In.” I felt his chest expand against my shoulder. “Hold. Out.”
I mirrored his breathing, matching his steady rhythm. Slowly, panic loosened its grip, warmth from his hand and body anchoring me.
“Open your eyes, Tesoro.”
I blinked.
“We’re going to turn now,” he said softly. “Look out the window.”
When I did, my breath caught for an entirely different reason.
The city sprawled beneath us, a glittering maze of streets.
Then we banked, and the city disappeared, replaced by endless, rolling clouds stretching to the horizon in every direction. White and gold and soft pink, the colors bleeding into each other like watercolors.
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
I turned to find Lorenzo watching me, his hand still tracing circles on my thigh.
“Look at the clouds,” I said, my voice breathless. “Not at me.”
“I’d rather look at you.”
I grabbed my champagne and took a long sip, hoping the bubbles would cool my cheeks, burning from the heat of his gaze.
