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I unsnap my seatbelt and rise to my feet then hold out my hand. "Ready?"
30
Jeanne
I peer through the window of the limo which picked us up from the air strip. I wrap my arms about my waist. A frisson of restlessness sparks my nerve endings, and a thrill of excitement runs up my spine. It’s always like this when I land in a new country. I feel energized and electrified and I can’t wait to go out and explore the place, except… I won’t be here that long. I have to be back tomorrow night, in less than ten hours, at the rehearsal. We’ll barely have enough time to grab some sleep and get married and—my breath hitches. Jesus, Mary and Joseph. I’m getting married. I’m getting married to my Mafia guy. NotmyMafia guy; the Mafia guy.
When I woke up on the plane, it was to find Luca watching me with an expression on his face I couldn’t quite decipher. Maybe the events of the night were catching up with him. More likely, he was wondering what other surprise he could spring on me. Before I could ask him any further questions, he rose to his feet and pulled me along and off the plane. We barely got into the car, and I switched my phone on, when the messages started pinging in the group chat I share with Olivia and Penny. I started to message them and stopped. Started, then stopped again. I finally gave up trying to tell them where I was and what was going to happen. Because really, what was I going to say? I’m in Malta and we’re eloping? Isn’t the point of eloping to keep things a secret until the deed is done? Not that I don’t want to update them. It’s just, maybe it’s best to wait until I have a chance to catch my breath.
So, I put my phone away and turn to the window. Partly because I don’t want to talk to Luca right now.
He held me in the car at the airstrip in Palermo when I fell apart. He soothed me and rocked me and then kissed me in such a way that I felt it all the way to the tips of my toes. I would have been happy to curl up in his lap and melt into him until our skin fused together. But Massimo knocked on the window, rousing me from my fantasy. Then, Luca carried me out of the car and onto the plane. He set me down in one of the plush seats by the window, strapped me in, asked for a blanket, and tucked it around me. He made sure I ate and drank on the flight, since we’d left the restaurant without eating, then coaxed me to get a quick nap. As a result, I’m now wide-eyed and wired. A feeling which is magnified because he’s across the seat from me.
He hasn’t spoken a word to me since we got off the plane. There was a convoy of black cars waiting for us. All of them had tinted windows. All except one of the cars were SUVs with men in black suits and grim faces standing next to them.
Luca didn’t spare them a glance. He led me directly to the only non-SUV car, a limo. The driver held the door open. Luca made sure I was seated before walking around the car and sliding into the back seat next to me. The driver must know where we’re headed; he raised the barrier between the front and the back seats, then drove off.
It’s almost like he’s afraid of getting on Luca’s bad side. Which, I admit, I haven’t seen so far. Even when we were in the cell, he was largely good-humored, as if the entire situation were a challenge he looked forward to overcoming. Come to think of it, he’s more tense now than I’ve seen him in all the time I’ve known him.
The rest of the convoy fell in line in front and behind our car. Luca must be even more important than I thought if he managed to get so much security in place in such a short period of time. There’s so much about this man I don’t know. I place my palm on the seat between us. The bulk of his presence seems to take up so much room, and even though there’s space between us, it feels like he’s sitting very close to me. The heat vibrates off of him, pulsing, throbbing with unsaid emotions. His scent seems to intensify in the enclosed space until it’s in my pores, in my skin, in my hair. Until I’ve drawn his scent deep into my lungs, and my blood is saturated in his essence.
I hit the button to lower the glass on my window and the breeze rushes in. Incredible that just a few hours ago I was in Palermo, and now, I’m in Malta, a place I’ve heard of but never thought I’d actually visit.
I slide my hand out so the wind slides between my fingers. Some of the tension leaves my muscles and I relax my shoulders.
I withdraw my hand, lean back in my seat and close my eyes. The wind ruffles my hair and a strand blows across my face. I stay still, enjoying the play of the breeze over my features.
Then, the strand of hair across my face is pushed behind my ear. A tremor steals over my skin. I bite the inside of my cheek and refuse to open my eyes.
There’s a feather touch as he skims his fingers… no, his knuckles, over my jawline.
My breath catches.
The touch continues down my chin, down the column of my throat, to my sternum. He hovers there for a second and my core clenches. My thighs quiver, and I have to stop myself from reaching up and grabbing his wrist to stop his progress.
A moan slips from my lips, and I sense his sharp inhale.
The heat of his body escalates, and I know he’s moved closer. He continues to advance down the valley between my breasts, then to the side, where he pushes aside my jacket and circles a nipple, which instantly peaks. He draws another lazy circle and the space between my thighs grows moist. He moves his touch to my other breast and when he lightly flicks my nipple, my entire body jolts.
"Oh, god," I breathe. "Oh, Jesus."
"You called me, baby?" he retorts in a voice that has a thread of laughter running through it.
I snap open one eye and scowl at him.
"That was very corny," I grouse.
"It worked, though."
"That’s what you think."
He cups my breast, and even through the clothes I’m wearing, the heat of his touch sears my skin. A pulse throbs to life in my pussy, a yearning deep inside that flamed to life when I first saw him in that cell. When he reached for me in his almost unconscious state and called me Angel. I don’t know why it affected me so. Why seeing him vulnerable, with all his walls lowered, when I glimpsed his real self in his eyes, something inside me shifted and has continued to liquefy every time I’ve seen him since.
It’s why I tear my gaze away from him, look toward the window, and swallow. I’m so close to falling for him, and I don’t want that to happen. Don’t want to fall for a person in a relationship that is doomed even before it starts.
"Luca, please." I bite down on my lower lip, and suddenly, he’s there. He pulls my lips gently from between my teeth, then pinches my chin so I have to turn to him.
"What do you want?" His aquamarine eyes bore into mine. "Tell me what you need, Angel."
