Page 27 of Little Dove

“Of course, you fucking did,” he mutters.

I glance at Lazaro, who is trying to hide a smile. He winks at me and lets the subject drop.

It’s another twenty minutes before we finally start to taxi down the runway, and my stomach jumps as the roar of the engines fills the plane. I grip the armrests, my nails digging into the leather so tight I’m sure to leave a mark, but I don’t care. Holy shit, this is terrifying.

Lazaro promptly pries my fingers up and envelopes my hand in his, letting me dig my nails into him instead. As we finally leave the ground and start our ascent, I grit my teeth to keep from screaming. No way am I going to embarrass myself by doing that.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the plane starts to level out, and the engine noise reduces to a manageable level. My heart starts to climb back out of my throat and ears. Yeah, I don’t think I like this at all.

Lazaro lowers his lips to my ear and murmurs, “Well done,colombina. That was the hardest part.”

Until we land.Nope, not going there yet. That’s a worry for hours from now.

“So, ah, what do we do now?” I ask awkwardly, looking around.

Lazaro and Alonzo smile at me, and it hits me that it’s the first time I’ve seen Alonzo smile. I blink, surprised at just how much he looks like Lazaro when he does that, and how warm it makes him. And they have another brother? How the hell do the women not fall into puddles at their feet when the three of them are together?

“Now, you do whatever you like, Amara,” Alonzo informs me. “Are you hungry?” The mention of food has my stomach growling, making both men chuckle, and Rori gives me an amused smile. I flush in embarrassment. “We’ll start with that then.” He climbs out of his seat, careful not to disturb Hades, and heads up to the divider.

“Do you normally sit away from your men?” I ask Lazaro.

“If we have a lot of people, yes, but sometimes, if there aren’t many of us, we all sit here,” he explains. “Oftentimes, the men want to keep that separation. It’s well known how close we are to the Caruso brothers and the Don, considering our positions, and if they want to talk about things they don’t want us to hear, then they keep their distance. Others like to keep to the old ways and don’t socialize with those above them in the ranks.”

That actually makes some sense. “Maybe they find you intimidating.”

Lazaro shrugs. “If they do, all the better. It keeps them loyal.”

I don’t see that, but there’s plenty about the mafia that I don’t understand. Yet.

Alonzo comes back with the now-smiling blonde stewardess and a pair of menus. He sits and takes them from her to hand to Rori and me. “Pick whatever you like, and Camilla will get it for you.”

The choices are few, but they are still far fancier than anything I’ve ever eaten before. Steak, salmon, caviar, gourmet pasta dishes that I can’t even hope to pronounce, and some also fancy salads. It all sounds so good that my mouth starts to water, but practicality tells me I need to remember how many people are on this flight. They’ll need to eat, too, and they’re all big men, so they may want more than one plateful.

“While they’re looking at the list, can I get you anything?” Camilla asks Alonzo and Lazaro, a soft breathiness in her tone. She leans forward ever so slightly, at just the right angle to show off her legs and the curve of her breasts. She might be covered up to her neck, but I swear her dress is a size too small, considering how it shows off her figure. “Anything at all?”

I nearly roll my eyes as I read the menu. Do women really think that sounds seductive? Or maybe it’s just me who thinks it’s weird because, clearly, it’s worked before. She’s far too familiar to not have slept with one or both of them. Or worse, both of them together.

Jealousy flares again, but I ignore it. There’s nothing I can do about it, and besides, this is exactly what I wanted, right? Lazaro can focus on someone else, then I’ll forget about him, and he’ll forget about me.

Why does that thought fill me with hurt and anxiety? I’ve lost my ever-loving mind.

“I’ll have the salmon,” Rori says abruptly, her tone sharp. My gaze flies up to hers, but the only thing I see on her face is a mild annoyance as she looks at the stewardess — who now has herhand on Lazaro’s shoulder, her blood-red nails almost absently stroking the edge of his lapel, but I know a statement when I see it. My stomach sours. “And a steak,” Rori adds before Camilla can reply. “Nothing on it. Cooked or rare, doesn’t matter.”

“Certainly,” Camilla says sweetly. Then her gaze cuts to me, and her smile takes on a sharp edge. “And for you?”

“Just a garden salad, please,” I answer, setting the menu down on the table.

Lazaro’s eyes narrow on me. “You haven’t eaten all day, Amara, and that’s not enough.” He sounds very displeased at my choice.

“I don’t eat much,” I tell him tightly. “Besides, there are other people on the plane that need to eat too.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about them,” he snaps, face darkening. “They have all eaten today, and you haven’t. There will be no more starving yourself. Ever. Pick something else.”

Anger and embarrassment war within me. I don’t need his judgment or his orders. “No. The salad. Thank you.”

I look at Camilla, who isn’t doing a very good job of hiding her scowl. I hold her stare, the same way I’ve done countless times with women just like her. I can see the moment she gets uncomfortable, because she looks away before turning her attention back to Lazaro and Alonzo. “And for you both? Would you like your usuals?” she asks.

“Bring one of everything,” Lazaro barks at her, making her jerk in surprise, and a trickle of hurt leaks into her expression when he adds a sharp, “Go.” She nods stiffly and shoots me a hateful look as she walks away, clearly blaming me for his outburst.

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