Page 22 of Vengeful Vows

Outside, Sergio is waiting for us.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“The airport.”

Oh.“Youarefull of surprises.”

“Many of them today. I hope you’ll find them satisfactory.”

The first is that a luxurious jet is waiting for us, and we are greeted by the pilot and two flight attendants.

Sergio continues toward the back of the aircraft while Marcello offers me the seat next to the window.

As I sink into it, the plush leather recliner wraps me in buttery softness.

Marcello settles next to me. Then he points out the various controls that adjust the support and position. “It folds all the way out for sleep, if you need a nap.” He flashes a wicked grin that sends my pulse skittering. “Or something else.”

Scandalized, I glance around, afraid a flight attendant has overheard him.

“You can rest assured that if I wanted to have my wicked way with you, I’d do it in the privacy of the bedroom.”

I gasp. “You can’t be serious!”

“About which part?” He lowers his voice as he continues, “Making love to you? Or that I have a bedroom?”

I’m so flustered, it’s difficult to think straight. “Both. Either. Yes.”

In response, he chuckles, igniting a hunger in me.

“To be clear, yes. I want to make love to you. But I’m content to bide my time. Claiming you will be sweeter for the wait.”

Because my throat is suddenly dry and naughty images are sashaying through my mind, I say nothing.

“Secondly, also yes. I have private quarters onboard. Makes it easier on long or overnight flights. There’s also a shower. And I have a desk for work.”

Now I’m even more confused. He’s used the wordIseveral times. “Is the plane yours?”

“Technically it belongs to my company. Occasionally others utilize it if I don’t require it to be available.”

With some skepticism, I narrow my eyes. Owning and operating a private jet has to be prohibitively expensive, something ultraexclusive. “What kind of business did you say you were in again?”

“Finance.”

Which says everything while at the same time saying nothing.

I’ve worked at Celeste’s firm long enough to understand that many shady things happen under the umbrella of “finance.”

Including money laundering?

Where has that thought come from? And why do I immediately shove it away? I don’t go around wearing rose-colored glasses. So why do I smile and put them on when it comes to him?

Moments later, a flight attendant brings us champagne. Then, when we’re airborne, we are served a dizzying array of snack foods, including tiny croissant sandwiches, nuts, olives, cheeses, and decadent-looking sweets.

Much as I hate to admit it, I could easily become accustomed to being pampered. On the rare occasions that I’ve flown in recent years, I’ve been relegated to coach, and more often than I’d like to admit, I’ve been in the center seat.

I eye a croissant with ham and brie.

“Eat it,” he encourages. “Our dinner reservations are for seven o’clock.”