Page 21 of Forced Arrangement

“Like what?”

“Perfect. Fucking perfect.”

Something inside of me cracks open, like the lid coming off a jar that has been sealed too tight for a long time. I swoop down to kiss his lips, and he starts moving inside of me. We quickly find a cadence together, as if we have been doing this for years.

“Angelo,” I gasp, tipping my head back as my orgasm looms. “I’m going to come.”

“Do it,” he orders me, his voice sharp. His long fingers come to rest on my clit just as he slaps my ass hard with the other hand. “Come for me,Tesoro mio.”

As if my body was waiting for his command, I shatter, screaming his name as I tremble against him. I cling to him as I see stars, dying and being born again, a changed person. I had no idea sex could be like this. I have never experienced anything that approaches it in all of my life.

Angelo murmurs something approving in Italian, and strokes into me two more times before coming, his fingers tangled in my hair, tugging until it hurts, his cheek pressed between my breasts.

We stay still for a moment, both gasping for air, both sticky with sweat and our mingled pleasure.

“That was…” I start to say, but stop. I have no words for what I just experienced.

“Incredible,” he says simply, pressing a warm kiss to the spot between my breasts. “You are incredible,Tesoro mio.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, shifting a little as my foot cramps up.

“My darling, or my treasure,” he replies, helping me to lift myself off him.

I’m not sure what to make of that. We barely know one another, but then again, what we just shared changes everything. I don’t know if I want to be his darling, but I like the way the endearment sounds falling off his lips.

“Don’t overthink it,” he suggests, tweaking my nose playfully. “The sex was good. Leave it at that.”

I smirk at him. “Good” doesn’t even begin to cover it. I still feel weak in the knees and my body keeps clenching with little aftershocks of pleasure.

“Come on,” he says, taking my hand. “Let’s get cleaned up and dressed. I’m sure the flight crew is tired of hiding out.”

I feel a flush rush over my skin. I had completely forgotten where we were and what we were doing. I look around, horrified, and scoop up my clothing from the floor. I notice with renewed horror that there’s a wet spot on the chair where we fucked.

Angelo starts laughing, the sound bright and carefree, and I feel my worries dissolve a little. “Don’t panic. They won’t talk about this,” he assures me. He leans over to whisper in my ear. “Besides, I’ve always wanted to join the mile-high club.”

I giggle in spite of my embarrassment and follow him toward the bathroom at the back of the plane to get cleaned up.

Chapter Seven

Sophia

The plane lands with a soft thud, jolting me awake. As I blink away the remnants of sleep, the reality of where I am hits me like a freight train. New York. The city that has witnessed both my earliest, sweetest memories and the darkest days of my life.

Angelo is quiet beside me, his presence a steady reminder of why I’m here, of what lies ahead. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye—calm, collected, like this is just another day for him. But for me, it’s anything but.

As the plane taxies to a stop, I can’t help the flood of memories that surge forward, memories of a time when New York was my entire world.

I used to run through the lush grass of Central Park, my tiny legs struggling to keep up with my papa’s long strides. I could still hear my mama’s laughter, light and carefree, as she called me back to her side. We’d stop for ice cream at the corner cart, the sweet, sticky treat dripping down my fingers as I tried to eat it faster than it melted. And then there was the pizza—with pepperoni and sausage, my absolute favorite, back when the world seemed like a place that only shat up rainbows and unicorns.

But those were fading memories, dulled by time and overshadowed by the last day I spent in this city. The day everything changed.

I remembered that day vividly—the frantic packing, the hushed conversations between my mother and her maid, the fear in my mother’s eyes that she tried so hard to hide from me. We were going on a “trip”, she’d said, but even at seven years old, I knew something wasn’t right.

Paris was supposed to be the City of Light, but it became the city where everything I knew was extinguished. The city where I learned that fairy tales weren’t real and monsters were all too real.

Now, as the plane door opened, letting in a rush of cool morning air, those memories felt like a lifetime ago. I wasn’t that innocent little girl anymore, and New York wasn’t the safe haven it once was.

“We’re here,” Angelo says unnecessarily, pulling me back to the present.

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