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“Looks like you need to find a villa to impress her,” Jett adds helpfully.

I sigh. “I suppose I best hunt down our contacts in Greece.”

Enzo and Romeo are bound to have people who most likely own mansions I can use. I’m sure I’ll find something to my wife's liking. I’ll give her the honeymoon that makes up for the disaster I created on our wedding night.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Gianna

“Here, let me,” Colten murmurs behind me, sending a wave shooting through my spine. The thought of being trapped on a small jet, with this beast of a man who is causing my pussy and my brain to go to war, is going to be hell.

It’s so many hours to Greece. And I know Colten wants to see which buttons of mine he can find and press.

“I’ve got it!” I snap, blowing my hair out of my face.

He laughs as I try to unsuccessfully shove my luggage in the overhead bin. “It’s getting jammed on the wheel.”

He leans over me, his chest pressing against me as he maneuvers the bag in.

“I’m taller, not stronger,” he says.

I huff, and he moves around me to take his seat. I glance around the empty jet. My eyes settle on the seats right at the back, but as I take a step, his fingers close around my wrist.

“Sit with me? We can work out our attack plan?”

My breath catches as I turn to him, and he releases his hold instantly.

“Fine,” I say, keeping my voice level. Ignoring the way my heart is almost galloping out of my chest. I squeeze past, with my back towards him, as he’s sprawled out in his chair. I swear to God he groans under his breath.

I settle in the seat beside him, staring out at the tarmac, tapping my nails on the arm of the chair. “You’ve vetted your pilot, right? He’s not insane?”

Colten laughs. “He’s not insane, no. He’s a family friend, has been for many years.”

I turn to face him. “How old is he?”

“Sixty, maybe sixty-five?”

“Per l’amor di Dio, moriremo—For the love of God, we’re going to die,” I mutter. I have a strict no-under-forties pilot rule; I can’t have one of them having a heart attack mid-flight.

“Fuck, it’s sexy when you speak Italian.”

I grin. “It’s perfect you don’t understand what I’m saying.”

He crosses his arms, getting comfortable. I wish I could be this relaxed when I fly. I’m on high alert, prepared to parachute at any moment. And being next to Colten, it’s raising all my senses to the max level.

“I know you called me meatball, and technically it’s a term of endearment in Italian.”

I pat his arm gently. “Nothing that comes out of my mouth should ever be taken as endearing, Colten. I told you already, I don’t do sweet.”

His eyebrow arches. “You taste sweet though.”

The jet jolts forward, and I instinctively grab onto his forearm, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Can I smoke?” I ask, refusing to open my eyes.

“No, Gianna. You cannot smoke on a plane.”

“Stupid rules. What’s the point in a private jet?”