Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62404 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 312(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
“I’ll never tell, but I heard it’s chilly this time of year in Italy. Better find you a scarf,” she teases, and I laugh.
Sometimes a girl simply needs her mother.
When my mother leaves, I almost want to tell her to stay. It’s good to have that person who constantly has your back, no strings, just your own personal rock star. I had a real rock star, but that didn’t turn out great for me.
I don’t hear from Jake at all that week. When he does finally decide to contact me, it’s Friday, and he’s waiting for me at my house. I stop when I see him, my keys clutched in my hand.
“Oriana.” He says my name like he would if he was hovering over the top of me—full of seduction. “I’m leaving for Italy in an hour. I was hoping you would come.” His offer, and the timing, shocks me.
“You didn’t say when, just soon.”
“Maybe it’s time you see what I do. And then, when you return, if you choose not to see me again, I’ll do my best to respect your wishes.” I bite my bottom lip as I contemplate his words. “Do you have plans?” he asks.
“No.”
“And Monday is a public holiday, so you don’t have to work.” I nod in confirmation.
“Why now? I’ve asked you before to leave me alon—”
He cuts me off. “You’ve never meant it before, Oriana. I’ve seen all sides of you, and you’ve never meant it, yet.”
“So next time, if I don’t like what I see, you’ll what, leave me be?”
“If that’s what you chose,” he states, but his voice doesn’t sound convincing. Should it, though?
“I’ll pack a bag,” I tell him, then turn to go inside. He doesn’t follow me in, but I leave the door unlocked for him anyway. I throw some clothes in my small suitcase and grab what I need from the bathroom before I head back outside. Jake’s checking his phone when I walk up to him and say, “Ready.” He glances at me and then eyes my bag.
“That’s the fastest I have ever seen a woman pack.” He sounds impressed as he holds out his hand for my overnight bag. I let him take it, and he places it in the trunk before he opens the door for me. My eyes follow him as he walks around to his side of the car and slides in.
“What airline are we flying?” I ask. I grab my passport out of my bag to double-check it’s there.
“We fly private. You’ll understand on the way back why,” he says as he starts the car.
Kyler used to fly private or first class. I never really got to go on many of his trips. It was always him and his staff while I ran everything from home. It’s nice to be asked to go somewhere instead of honestly, being left behind without a thought.
We hardly speak on the drive. I can feel his energy though, and although he’s silent and I know he’s unsure of what to say to me and I feel the exact same way. When we finally arrive at the airport, it’s an easy process being led to the private plane. We get on, and he sits opposite me.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
The flight attendant offers us each a glass of champagne. He declines, and I take it happily.
“Talk?” I ask before drinking the entire glass of bubbly liquid. As soon as it’s gone, I look over my shoulder and ask for another. When I turn back around, he’s in my face, and he pulls down the neckline of my shirt. He winces when he sees the marks, then his eyes find mine, and I see the sorrow in them when he closes them for a few seconds with a deep, centering breath.
“Does it hurt?” The gentleness and concern in his voice surprises me.
“No,” I tell him. “It doesn’t hurt.”
He lets go of my shirt, and it falls back into place as he sits back down. I take the second glass of champagne being offered to me and drink it down just as quickly as the first.
“Have you become an alcoholic since I saw you last?” he asks, smiling.
“Flying makes me nervous.”
“You should have told me. I could have gotten you something.”
I hold up the glass and say, “This works just fine.”
“If you say so.” He smiles.
We take off, and one of my hands grips the armrest while the other holds the champagne glass tight enough that it could break at any moment. Jake studies me silently as we rise into the air. Then as soon as the light comes on, letting us know we can move about, I’m turning back to search for the flight attendant and asking for another glass before a thought occurs to me and I blurt out the words before I can even think, “You aren’t like a human trafficker, are you? You don’t plan to sell me when we get off this plane, right?”