Page 58 of Sweet Temptation
Why would he be complicated? My mind turns on a spindle as I gaze out the window. Something awful must have happened for him to have an issue. But I would never ask him that question or ask him why.
I must have fallen asleep because when I open my eyes, Damon is hovering over me, pressing gentle kisses to my cheeks. "We're here. The plane awaits," he whispers into my hair. Yawning, I unbuckle my seatbelt and climb out of the car.
Sauntering to the back of the car to grab my suitcase, Damon grips my hand as we head toward the private jet, keeping me close to him. "Private jet? Why didn’t we take this to Chicago when you dragged me there at the beginning of the year?" I stare at him.
Damon glances back at me, his lips turning into a grin. "You didn’t know about the mafia, Cinderella. I didn’t want to raise questions about my life when I wasn’t planning on telling you anything back then."
It makes sense, I guess. I would have had big questions if we got on this plane for a trip to Chicago. Once we drop off our baggage with the pilots, we stop to let me stare at the massive jet. It's fucking huge.
"Thought it would be faster to use my family jet." Damon kisses my head, gripping my hand as we walk up the steps into the plane. I haven't been on a plane since I was seventeen. Granted, I haven't left Princeton since I was seventeen.
I never had interests in going on a plane, so being twenty, I haven't been on a plane for three years. I mean, I loved my dad, I just didn't want to be on a plane. Sliding into a seat, I rest my head against Damon's shoulder as we wait for the jet to get ready for take-off.
"Heading for the runway, Mr. Saint," the flight attendant mutters as she stops next to us. Fucking finally. I already feel nauseous and tired, and I just want to sleep the entire plane ride. That would do me justice.
The flight attendant lingers, swaying her hips as she stares at Damon expectantly. My lips turn up in a scowl as I notice her flirty attitude. "Would you like me to help you with anything else?" she asks him, completely ignoring me.
Damon ignores her, his gaze fixed on his phone with a bunch of messages from his mother. "No, he's fine and while you're at it, how about you go sit your arse in your designated seat before I stand up and punch you in your fake nose," I snap.
She disappears faster than a fucking condom after sex, but doesn't leave until she throws me a glare over her shoulder.
Damon wraps his arm around me and smirks, pressing his lips to my head. "You're quite hot when you're tearing into some woman." I roll my eyes, punching his arm in annoyance. Yeah, I just have to stake my claim with the entire fucking mafia world.
"Can you find my water?" I whisper, eying Damon. My stomach lurches at the sudden need to throw up anything and everything I have consumed in the last twenty-four hours.
He smiles and digs through my carry-on bag until he pulls out a water bottle. Twisting off the cap, I take a long sip, letting the water slide down my throat, then I hand the water bottle back to Damon. My mind is full of different scenarios of how this trip will go as I flutter my eyes closed, letting sleep take me.
THIRTY-THREE
It feels awfully weird the moment I walk into Hanna's dad's mansion. I mean, no, it doesn't smell like old people because her dad was only forty-five, but it feels weird all the same. Being in the outfit's general facility makes me uncomfortable.
Hanna lifts her head and looks up at me while I stare around the mansion. I'm definitely uncomfortable. "Can I make you tea? Wine?" a woman with red hair asks softly. She probably has no idea who I am. Well, not yet, at least.
I shake my head with a soft smile. "I think I'm okay," Hanna replies softly, shooting her stepmother a smile. My heart drops when I watch Harley step out of a bedroom and walk over to greet us.
I don't fucking like him and he's definitely going to have something to say to me about getting his sister pregnant. Especially since we know who each other is. And I have tried to kill him many times before.
We were in a full-blown war with the outfit when my brother and I were sixteen. My mother sent soldiers over into NYC hoping to take out Nico Sovrano, but they failed. Instead, I was face to face with Harley, and it was a game of Russian Roulette we both survived.
Eying Harley, I grip our bags and head into the room that used to be Hanna's, setting the bags on the small bed. I chuckle lightly, eying the small bed. My legs won't fit here, let alone my entire body.
I smirk. We'll make it work. I look up as Hanna enters the bedroom. "You okay?" I ask, eying her worriedly. If I have to put a gun to her brother's head, I will gladly do it.
Hanna nods with a smile and rests her hand on her stomach. "We're both fine," she replies with a smile. I slightly relax until I hear Harley's voice.
"She's pregnant?" I hear Harley's growl from behind Hanna. Narrowing my eyes, I shoot daggers his way. This mother fucker is asking me to break all rules and shove my gun in his face.
My lips curl up in a snarl as I reach for my gun at the same time as Harley. "It's none of your concern actually, you're not raising it," I growl.
"Enough, boys. That kind of stress isn't good for Hanna or her baby," Georgina snaps.
"Easy for you to say, G. You didn’t even ask me who he is," Harley grumbles as he fastens his gun again.
I smile politely at her before I shoot Harley a glare. Georgina glances at her stepson, then at me with a raised brow. "Okay, Har. Who is he if you can't keep your gun in its holder while he's in your presence?"
Harley smirks, crossing his arms over his chest. "Damon Saint. Son of Margarita and Maverick Saint. He's from the famiglia, G."
Hanna's eyes widen and she glares at her brother. "None of this would have happened if the two of you were honest with me about my name and my heritage. So if you're making him leave, I will be, too."