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She fought back a smile but failed. I curled my lips into a smirk before dropping her hand and slipping my laptop out of my bag. I set it on the table in front of me and opened it. Knowing that this was a lot for her process, I allowed her to get settled while I worked on a few things. I did not bother speaking to her again as I could tell she was deeply bothered. Trying to remain respectful, I did not press her for answers and focused on what was in front of me, trying to fix everything before it escalated anymore.
I found myself staring ahead but darting my eyes in her direction every so often. She paid me no attention as she nervously fidgeted with her nails and stared out the window. I did not exactly know what to say, rendering myself speechless.
Taking a deep breath, I exhaled as my flight attendant, Amanda, appeared next to our seats. Isabelle glanced up, acknowledging her presence beside her, but she rapidly returned her interest to the window again.
“Mr. Greco, what may I get for you and your guest?”
I reached my arm out and Amanda took a step back. Gently, I stroked Isabelle's arm, commanding her attention. She jumped, spinning to face me then exhaled before returning her gaze out the window.
“Would you like some wine?” I murmured.
She shook her head, never looking back.
“Water for me,” I requested, “and would you bring her some as well?” I muttered, gritting my teeth in frustration.
She nodded before she spun, sashaying to the front of the plane.
Isabelle finally tore her gaze away, turning to me with a smirk. “You certainly don't listen do you,Sir?"
I grinned coyly, as I reached toward her, swiveling her chair to face me. Her mouth fell agape in shock and she nervously grabbed the armrests, stabilizing herself.
“Yeah they spin,” I rumbled, narrowing my eyes. “Are you a nervous flier?”
Her eyes widened. “A bit yeah,” she confessed self-consciously, “but I’m usually stuck in cramped coach on a commercial plane.”
Cocking my head, I listened carefully to her. I did not always listen to women, but I hung on her every word. Between her facial expressions and tone, I was utterly captivated by her.
“I could dance in this plane,” she joked.
I nodded, smirking, before narrowing my eyes on her. “Knock yourself out.” I gestured to the aisle floor.
Her face flushed a bright shade of red as she scratched the back of her head. Her eyes darted around looking at everyone up front.
“I’m not going to dance on your plane,” she hissed. “That's weird.”
“But you said you could.”
She shifted uncomfortably in her seat averting her gaze to her lap. “Could, not would.”
Reaching for her hand, I grabbed her wrist, tugging her in my direction. “Come here," I demanded mischievously.
Wasting no time, she stood, stumbling over into my lap, but caught herself on my shoulder and the table with my laptop. Sitting sideways, she crossed her ankles then wrapped her arms around my neck, lacing her fingers together behind me. I pressed my lips to hers just as the flight attendant returned with our water.
“Amanda,” I addressed her, lifting my eyes, “we changed our mind.” I glanced at Isabelle, smiling, “We would like a bottle of champagne instead.”
“Of course, Mr. Greco,” she professionally replied with a warm grin before quickly spinning away.
Isabelle snorted, “You probably drive your employees so crazy.”
“I try,” I smirked.
“So where are we going Mr. Mysterious?” she whispered, placing a kiss next to my ear while running her fingers through my hair.
Amanda promptly returned with two glasses of champagne, setting them on the table. I nodded in acknowledgment. Isabelle had not taken her gaze off me.
“To my place in London,” I smirked, reaching out and taking the glasses, handing one to her.
Puzzled, she took a small sip. “You're from Italy,” she countered.
