Page 39 of Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

“I know,” she said.

“You look as if I’m dragging you away forever.”

“You’re certainly dragging me into the unknown.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

Her cheeks went pink. “You can’t make everything about sex.”

“And why not? Sex is what brought us here. It is not a bad thing. It is our connection. It is certainly real.”

“Yes,” she said softly. “It is.”

She was silent on the car ride to the airfield, and when they boarded the private plane, her eyes went round. “I... I had no idea that a private plane was this luxurious. But I’ve only flown one time.”

“Really?”

“Yes. To visit my aunt in Ohio. I was a kid. I don’t even really remember it. But I... This is incredible.”

“It is a necessity,” he said.

He didn’t feel entirely comfortable with her all over the plane, and he wasn’t sure why. He was used to being around people who were blasé about wealth and luxury. Even if they were impressed they would never venture to behave as if they were. The disparity between the two of them was all the clearer here.

“It is yours now,” he said. “What I mean is, everything that is mine is now yours.”

“It... It is?”

“Yes,” he said. “It is. We are sharing our wealth.”

For some reason, that made him feel better.

“I... Good,” she said. “I... I don’t need wealth really. But it makes me feel better to know that you see me as a partner, and not simply an acquisition.”

He didn’t argue with her. He probably should. She wasn’t exactly the same as an object, but she was primarily one. A wife that he’d needed to acquire in order to fulfill certain terms.

And yet, within that, she mattered.

Of course she did. It couldn’t have been anyone, or he would’ve married already.

She was...everything he should not want, and yet he did want her. How could he let go of such a glorious mystery?

All his life he’d felt isolated. She made him feel something more.

He did not want to let that go.

“You got awfully quiet,” she said.

“Do not concern yourself with my silence,” he said, settling into one of the plush leather chairs on the plane, and inviting her to do the same. His stewardess bustled about the cabin, bringing them both drinks.

“Champagne?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said. “To celebrate.”

“Oh,” she said, looking at her hand.

She looked back up at the stewardess and smiled. “Of course.”

The stewardess beamed back, and then left the two of them alone.

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