Page 3 of Enduring Caine
Chapter 2
Samantha
Ireachedthroughthetoo-small opening in the privacy wall to stroke a gentle thumb over Antonio’s shoulder, my eyes crawling down to the sling and his damaged bicep underneath. The bullet had pierced the muscle and nicked an artery, but the doctor said he’d be good as new—at least, that’s what Antonio told me. More likely, it would be six to twelve months of physiotherapy and the potential for pain and stiffness the rest of his life.
But neither of us were dead. And that counted for a lot.
Someone in our cabin opened their window shade and the orange light of daybreak shone through.
“Wake up, sleepyhead.”
“No,” he murmured, leaning his head toward me but leaving his sleep mask in place. “I want to cuddle longer.”
“Worst cuddle of my life.”
He pushed the mask to his forehead, eyes fluttering open, and a soft smile formed. “Perhaps, but your face is the most wondrous view to wake up to.”
Warmth curled in my belly at the sight of those gorgeous brown eyes with their little golden flecks dancing in what little sunlight came through the window. “I thought you might want to change before they announce the descent and whatnot. We only have a couple of hours in the airport in Rome before our connection leaves for Naples, so we need to be ready.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, like it did so often, and his irritatingly sexy smirk emerged. “Never late, sì?”
I hadn’t dozed off for more than a minute or two and was looking forward to the end of our journey. If everything continued per schedule, we’d arrive at Mario’s in just under six hours and I could collapse onto Antonio’s bed. With his arms around me, I’d finally be able to sleep.
“We’re in first class and can leave before the rest of the passengers. Neither of us checked any bags, so we only need to deal with the shuttle to the terminal and passport control. Is this flight currently on time?”
I nodded.
“I’ll get changed and brush my teeth.” He sat up and yawned. “Care to join me?”
“That’s not a group activity on a plane.”
He leaned closer to me, into the tiny open space between our seats, a slight grimace as his arm touched the chair-side ledge next to him. “I have a different group activity in mind.”
I pulled my head back to frown at him, but whispered, “I’m not joining the Mile High Club.”
“No?”
“And your breath stinks.” My mock-frown slipped a little. “Go brush your teeth.”
He chuckled low in his throat. “Perhaps the next time we cross the Atlantic together, I’ll rent a jet. Far more—” He winked at me, causing my smile to break free and a flash of heat to travel through me. “—private.”
“Just go.” I gestured to the ledge between us, to the black leather toiletries bag. “I got your things out for you.”
“I see you’re taking your role as nurse seriously?” He’d been shot point-blank protecting me. There was very little I wouldn’t do for him.
“As long as you continue to play good patient and follow my orders.” I flicked my fingers toward the bathroom.
“On one condition, Samantha.” He let my name trip off his tongue, so slow, the way he knew gave me goosebumps. His thick Italian accent added a musicality to everything he said, but the way my name danced from his lips was a favorite of mine. “Say the words again.”
My arms folded and eyes rolled, years of denying feelings for anyone but my family taking hold. But who could deny this amazing man? “I love you, Antonio.”
“Ahh, music to my ears. Perhaps I’ll have to record you, so I can use your declaration as my morning alarm once you go back to the States.”
“Oh my god, you get cheesier by the second.”
He puckered his lips and blew me an air kiss as he stood with the toiletries bag. It took him two trips with a single functional arm—one trip to freshen up, one to carry his clothes and get changed. I offered to help navigate the shirts, but he cracked more jokes and waved me off like it was nothing but a flesh wound. It wasonlythree hours in surgery, he said. He’d had worse, he laughed.
But he paused and winced every time he shifted the wrong way or he tried to do something with his right arm, like he’d forgotten the injury. For all his claims otherwise, he was not only in pain, but was likely biting back the frustration at being so limited physically. He was tall, with broad shoulders that dinged off surfaces in the cabin that felt somehow smaller when I watched him move.