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I decide to buy a magazine in the lounge later, to keep my thoughts from swirling in every direction.
Chapter 4
Stefano
Theglowingdepartureboardflickers again, the little plane icon sliding from "On Time" to "Delayed." I clench my jaw, glaring at the offensive display. Another delay. Of course.
I storm over to the ticketing counter, cutting off a bickering couple. "This is unacceptable," I bark at the attendant. "My flight was supposed to leave an hour ago. Now it's delayed again?"
The attendant shrinks under my tirade. "I'm very sorry, sir. The plane is having a minor mechanical issue. It shouldn't be too much longer."
"That's what you said before!" I slam my palm on the counter. "This is ridiculous. I have important business in New York. Get me on the next flight out, now!"
"I'm afraid there's nothing available until tomorrow morning..." the attendant stammers.
"Useless," I scorn.
Spinning on my heel, I stalk away, fuming. First, Don Conti's jet is out of commission, now this third-rate airline can't even get a plane in the air. The entire world is conspiring to mess with my schedule.
I drop into a seat near the gate, glaring out the window at the tarmac. The plane sits there, motionless. Taunting me with its passiveness. I grit my teeth, imagining all the ways I will make the airline pay for this incompetence.
I pace back and forth ceaselessly. Then, an announcement. "We regret to inform that Flight 724 to New York has been delayed by one hour. The flight will now depart at..."
What the hell? I stand and go back toward the boarding gate. This time, to face another employee.
"Are you serious?" I bark. "Look here, I didn't buy a 3,000-dollar first-class ticket to be waiting at the airport for an entire day. You and your team should do your research before updating us about the delays," I yell.
"Sir, we are so sorry for the inconvenience," she stammers.
"Don't you think you should know how long the plane will actually take to get off the damn runway?" I fume. "For God's sake. How do I know it won't get delayed again? Incompetent!"
I'm not an unreasonable man. But I do expect the airline to actually know what the problem is and how long it will take to solve it.
"Sir, the engineers are working on it," she mumbles as more people crowd around to get answers.
"Your engineers don't know how long it'll actually take?" I bellow. "You've rescheduled three times already! This is unacceptable!” I snap at the attendant. “Do you have any idea who I am?”
My fists clenched, pulse pounding. I needed to be on my way back to New York. Now.
A woman's clipped, accented tones cut through my anger. “Oh, we're all quite aware of who you think you are.”
For a moment I'm struck speechless, caught off guard by her beauty. Thick dark hair cascades halfway down her back, contrasting with smooth olive skin. An hourglass figure fills out her tight dress perfectly. But it's her eyes that transfix me - piercing green, full of fire.
A thrill of something dangerous sparks through me.
“You seem to believe your time is more valuable than anyone else's,” she continued, indignation etched into her delicate features.
“Perhaps if you were less rude, the staff might actually want to help you.”
Her audacity leaves me momentarily speechless. No one dares speak to me like this. I narrow my eyes, a biting retort on my lips. I regain my composure quickly.
"I don't recall asking for your opinion," I snap.
She doesn't flinch. "Well, you're going to get it anyway. Throwing a tantrum like a spoiled child isn't going to make your plane leave any sooner."
I bristle at her words. "You have any idea who I am, do you?"
"Someone who thinks the rules don't apply to them?" she retorts. "All your yelling won't change the laws of physics. The plane is broken. It will leave when it's fixed, and not a moment before."
