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I swallow hard on the terrifying thought as my eyes lock on the Capo dei Capi. Even though he seems to be sleeping, he still looks dangerous as hell.
There’s a frown between his eyebrows, and his mouth is set in a grim line.
I wonder whether he ever relaxes.
Is he capable of laughing?
The fleeting smirk I saw earlier pops into my mind. It was only for a second, but his face transformed from deadly to downright hot.
As I stare at Damiano, I take in his black hair, his features that could easily be carved from stone, and the dark bristles on his jaw.
My gaze lowers to his neck before drifting over his broad shoulders and down his muscled biceps.
When I see his forearms and the veins snaking beneath his skin, I feel a weird sensation in my stomach. It feels like something is twisting and turning in my abdomen, and as my eyes lock on his left hand, his ring finger bare, the sensation spreads to my chest.
When my eyes lift back to Damiano’s face and I see the grim lines pulling around his mouth, I shake my head.
Then I lock eyes with his guard, who’s watching me like a hawk.
He shakes his head slowly before murmuring, “Stop whatever you’re thinking.”
Crap.
I tear my eyes away from the guard’s and wrap my arms around myself.
I hope the man doesn’t think I was plotting to kill his boss.
At some point during the long flight, the flight attendant gives everyone food. Even though I’m not hungry, I eat some of the lamb shank and mashed potatoes because I have no idea when I’ll get food again.
After we’ve all had our meals, I notice Damiano and his guard are caught in a serious conversation.
I hope the guard doesn’t tell him I was staring at him while he was resting.
Lifting my hand, I wipe my fingers over my forehead, where a tension headache is forming.
I have no idea how long the flight is, and unable to sleep, I just sit and stare at nothing in particular. My thoughts are overwhelmed with everything that’s happened and my uncertain future.
My family probably only cares about what they might gain from Damiano taking me. They’re definitely not worried about my safety, and they sure as hell won’t miss me.
No one cares about what happens to me.
The thought makes a forlorn feeling ghost through my chest.
Lifting my chin, I suck in a deep breath while I forcefully squash the gloomy feeling.
I have myself.
I’ve survived beatings, starvation, and years of neglect. I’ll survive whatever lies in my future.
When the flight attendant announces that we’re landing in ten minutes, my stomach turns into a queasy mess.
Crap, I shouldn’t have eaten.
My hands grip the armrests tightly, my nails digging into the expensive leather as I try to brace myself.
“Come,” Damiano’s guard suddenly says as he unclips my seat belt.
Taking hold of my elbow, he helps me to my feet, and I’m once again steered to the seat beside Damiano.
