Page 54 of How Not to Mess with a Millionaire

They reached the top of the stairway, where his longtime pilot, Alessandro, a retired captain in the Italian Air Force, waited for them.

“Good afternoon,SignoreSabbatini. And Miss—”

“Ryan,” Zoe supplied.

“It’s been a long time since we’ve had a guest on board. Especially a female.”

Dante shot him a warning glare. No need for Zoe to find out that the last woman to fly with him was his fiancée. “Are we ready to take off?”

“Si, signore,” Alessandro answered with a curt nod. “Your luggage is below, we’re fully fueled, and all of our pre-flight preparations are complete. We’re just waiting for clearance from air traffic control. They’re a little backed up. It may be twenty to thirty minutes before we’re in the air.”

“That’s fine. Where’s Greta?” Like Alessandro, the flight attendant had been on staff for almost as long as Dante had owned the Gulfstream.

“In the galley, preparing amerenda.”

Zoe looked up at him, her forehead adorably creased in confusion. “Merenda?”

“Mid-afternoon snack,” Dante said.

The pig chose that moment to let out a loud squeal.

Alessandro glanced down at the source of the noise, his brows drawn together in a perplexed frown. “Is there, uh, anything else I can do for you,signore?”

“No, thank you. We can get ourselves settled.”

With another nod, the pilot disappeared into the cockpit. Dante steered Zoe toward the back of the plane, chuckling at the way her jaw dropped and her eyes got impossibly wider as she took in the luxurious interior. Leather-upholstered captain’s chairs, a full bar, top-of-the-line entertainment system. He didn’t usually get off on flaunting his wealth, but if it impressed Zoe, he was all for it. She deserved to be pampered. And he was more than up for the job.

She stopped in the middle of the aisle and turned to him, pointing at the giant television mounted between two windows. “I’m pretty sure that flatscreen is bigger than the one in my apartment.”

He set the pet carrier down on one of the cushions and bent down to peer inside. “Is he all right in there?”

“Aha.” Zoe snapped her fingers. “I knew it. You do like him.”

Truth: the stupid swine was starting to grow on him. But he wasn’t going to let the pig know that. Or her. And it stopped there. He wasn’t letting himself get too attached to the damn thing.

Or her, he reminded himself.

He poked a finger through the bars, which the pig promptly nibbled. “I don’t want to listen to him squealing the whole flight because he’s behind bars.”

“I could let him out. How much do you like this carpet?” His face must have registered his displeasure because she took one look at him and burst into laughter. “Just kidding. I brought his pee pads. He—and your carpet—should be fine.”

Dante didn’t want to know what a pee pad was, so he didn’t ask. He took a seat and watched as Zoe shrugged off her backpack and unlocked the pet carrier, taking the pig out and giving him a quick nuzzle before setting him down and letting him explore. When the animal was happily sniffing his new surroundings, Dante caught Zoe’s hand and tugged her down next to him. “Sit. Relax. Greta should be out any minute with our food.”

As if on cue, the stewardess appeared carrying a tray laden with breads, cheeses, fruits, and cured meats. Two champagne glasses and a bottle of Prosecco completed the spread. She barely batted an eye as she stepped around the pig. Then again, not much fazed Greta. No doubt she’d seen stranger things when Luca used the corporate jet.

She set the tray down on the mahogany coffee table bolted to the floor. “It’s good to see you again,SignoreSabbatini.”

“Thank you, Greta. How is Cristian? Did he like his birthday present?”

“He loved it. He hasn’t stopped playing with it since he unwrapped it. Says he wants to be a chef when he grows up, just likeSignoreLuca.”

“Don’t worry.” Dante chuckled as he reached for the Prosecco and filled both glasses. “I’m sure he’ll grow out of it and choose a more sensible career. Maybe something in the finance industry.”

He handed one of the glasses to Zoe, and she took it. “Are you saying your brother isn’t sensible?”

“I’ll let you be the judge of that. We’re meeting him in Rome.”

Her hand froze, the glass halfway to her lips. “We’re what?”