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She grins at the flight attendant who smiles back with a mixture of jealousy and admiration and as Charlotte takes her seat and waits for her own meal, I try to distance my mind from how crazy she makes me when I’m around her.
CHAPTER15
CHARLOTTE
Igroan inwardly as I replace the passport in the purse Ivan’s friend provided. Chastity Belton. How was that a good idea? Everything looks genuine enough on the passport, even my photograph, which makes me wonder about these men. How has he managed to whip up a fake passport in almost no time and it actually worked? The last customs officer didn’t seem at all bothered by it, and I am cringing inside when I picture the laugh they must be having right now at this frigging stupid name. Ivan didn’t help either. It’s ok for him, he isn’t going to be a subject of ridicule in the customs officers’ staff room later when they laugh and joke about the woman with the very unfortunate sounding name.
However, when Ivan mentioned the police, it struck a chord because suddenly getting away from him isn’t as attractive as it was a couple of days ago. In fact, when he dragged me onto his knee and kissed me so deeply, I loved every second of it. He makes my head spin, and my principles desert me in a heartbeat because around him, it’s as if I’m living my life and not merely going through the motions.
The stewardess delivers my own meal and I smile and say a polite thank you and love seeing the admiration in her eyes. I know we make a striking couple. It’s obvious from the lingering looks of the ladies when Ivan walks past and the admiration on the faces of the men. I’ve caught the man across the aisle from me looking a few times already and for once, I feel so good about myself. Dressed in the sexiest lingerie and wearing a designer dress, is enough to make any woman feel sexy, but walking beside a man like my Russian savage is the stuff of dreams, not the nightmare that I expected.
As I eat the meal, my thoughts turn to the life bomb he dropped into the conversation before we left his friend’s plane, and I just can’t get my head around it. He must be mistaken because I have loving parents. In fact, they must be out of their mind with worry, and it strikes me that I haven’t even considered how they must be feeling this whole time. I am so caught up in my own adventure, the enormity of the situation hasn’t hit me yet and now as I reflect on it during one of my rare moments alone, I am starting to realize just how much trouble we’re in.
Has my father paid the ransom yet? Does he really owe the bratva money, or was it all a lie to conceal the real reason I’m here? I’m the daughter of a mafia boss. This just can’t be true and yet if it is, what will that mean for me? The most hated mafia boss in the world, Ivan said. That doesn’t sound good and hearing Ivan’s tales of his own upbringing, I am starting to panic in a big way. In fact, the food has turned to dust in my mouth as I contemplate being traded and handed over to a desperate criminal.
I will never see my parents again. I will be forced to marry someone old enough to be my father, like Winter was. The fact that Ivan and his friends are going to so much trouble to get her back means her life is shit right now and I’m the unlucky one who will take her place. I don’t matter. I’m expendable and they will use me to release her from the madness.
Everything is weighing heavily on my mind and without thinking, I seize the glass of red wine the stewardess provided with my meal and gulp it down as if it’s water.
If anything, it makes the whole thing better for a brief period and I rest my head back against the headrest and close my eyes as I struggle to deal with everything I heard. It’s only when the stewardess walks past that I open them and say quickly, “Um, I don’t suppose I could get a refill.”
She smiles. “Of course, madam.”
She is back in no time, and I even contemplate asking her to leave the bottle and no sooner has she filled my glass than I drain it quickly away.
Now I’m feeling better about things, and the warm glow turns to a fuzzy sensation of happiness. All around me, people are going on with their day and I should do the same. Push aside my nightmare and enjoy the time I do have and so I fix on my headphones and prepare to watch a movie in the hope it distracts me from my own shit show of a life.
* * *
A gentle shakemakes me jump and a kind voice says, “Madam, we are about to land. Please fasten your seat belt.”
My eyes are heavy as I open them and remember where I am. The flight, of course, Switzerland. It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts, and that’s because they are thumping around my head as if they’re river dancing.
Why did I drink wine? I’m a lightweight. I don’t drink—ever and now I can see why because it obviously doesn’t agree with me. I must be allergic to it, and I’ll need an epi-pen or something. I must groan or something because the man across the aisle looks over and smiles sympathetically in my direction and I offer him a shaky one back and whisper, “I’m afraid of flying.”
He nods as if that’s the only reason for my behavior and not the fact I drank too much. A growl behind makes me jump as Ivan says darkly, “No speaking until we get to Malik’s house.”
Now I’m really pissed off and decide to completely ignore him because how dare he speak to me like that? I can talk if I want to, and I will as it happens. Just to prove that point, I say to the man brightly, “Are you traveling on business?”
I can almost touch the anger vibrating through the seat behind me as the man nods, smiling brightly. “Yes, I have a business deal to close off. What about you?”
“Same.”
Praying to the almighty he doesn’t ask what business I’m in, God obviously isn’t listening because he says with interest, “What business are you in?”
“Oh, um, lingerie.” I say the first thing that comes to mind and regret it immediately his eyes spark with interest.
“That sounds way more interesting than computer technology. Do you design your own pieces?”
The suggestive glint in his eye makes my flesh creep because I can already sense he is picturing me wearing them, and I nod. “Um, yes, you know, just like Victoria Secrets. That’s us. Minus the Angels, of course. We have our, um, Honeys.”
I’m babbling because now I’ve gone down this road I can’t turn back and I hope like hell something happens to shut this conversation down and then the man says, looking quite animated, “Why don’t we hook up?”
I stare at him in horror, and he laughs out loud. “I mean, I run an IT company and we service many businesses like yours.”
I don’t miss the wink he threw me when he said ‘service’ and now I’m incredibly uncomfortable.
“Oh, well thanks and everything but…”
