Page 64 of Brutal Promise

“Oh.” Her mouth makes a cute oblong “O” shape, and I want to kiss her full and luscious lips.

I haven’t shared with Izzy the ulterior plan behind the large wedding. I’m waiting for the right time to tell her it’s a setup. I can’t overload her too soon with details and risk her being upset and refusing to marry me. If she bolts, I can’t keep her safe. I can’t let anything happen to an innocenct woman who never asked for the events that have transpired. I'm protective because I know what men like me can do to someone like her. She’s an easy target; without my intervention, she would have already been snatched. By whom and for what purpose? I still need to figure it out.

“How long is the flight?” she asks, checking the time on the phone.

“Depends on how fast we fly and the winds. I expect we’ll arrive in London around eight or nine at night. I have a car picking us up at the airport. My guard, Milan, will meet us there. You’ll like him. Give me your phone.”

She hands it to me.

I type on her keypad. “You have Milan’s number now. If you can’t reach me, you can call him. I’ll also give you the number of your guard, Erik. I don’t want you going anywhere without him.”

I hand her the phone. She accepts it and manages to avoid my hand. It’s a pity, as I’d love nothing more than to touch her. Does she know I’m obsessing over her? She fiddles with the buttons on her armrest as she tries to figure out which controls the recline, the footrest, and the electric window shades.

She’s like a kid with a new toy. I would never take her as someone who’d do something she doesn’t want to unless her life was in danger. She’s fortunate she fell into my lap, or rather, my bed. Too many men out there wouldn’t treat her like the princess she is.

I imagine she’s nervous about leaving her best friend and her only home. I’m still perplexed why she chose to go to college in the city after her mother told her not to. She could go anywhere for her degree. Why there? Everyone knows New York, Milan, and Paris are fashion meccas, so maybe that had something to do with her decision. It was close enough to home to be safe; if it didn’t work out, she could return to Connecticut.

The captain announces we’ll be taxing to the runway. I reach for my seatbelt and secure it over my lap. The plane lurches forward like a race car and bounces over a tarmac that has seen one too many winters.

We’re picking up speed, and Izzy clutches my hand with a death grip. I glance over and see her face is noticeably pale. She’s looking straight ahead and murmurs, “I’ve never flown before.”

“It will be fine. We’ll be in the air soon.” I gently squeeze her hand.

“Promise?”

“Yes, and in a minute, we’ll be able to move about the cabin as if we’re on land.”

The plane lifts off, the g-forces pushing us back in our seats. Everything smooths out, and the only thing we hear is the roar of the engine and the sound of the landing gear being stowed.

“Great, because I have to pee.”

I’m glad she feels comfortable enough around me to overshare.

Turning my head to hide my smile, I gaze out the window and watch the New York City skyline get smaller and smaller as we climb higher and higher through the clouds. When the turbulence is over, the pilot announces that we can move about the cabin freely.

“Okay, you can…pee, now.” I let go of her hand and unclip my belt to get up too.

“Thank you,” she says with an urgency that borders an emergency. I swallow a chuckle and step aside to let her pass me.

While she’s gone, I move to the dining area and set the table with linens, china, and silver utensils. I find fresh daisies in one of the refrigerators and place them in the center of the table. I know she’ll love them.

I also find fresh crepes and a glass container filled with red caviar. Always a stickler for detail, I plate the crepes, spreading them out symmetrically on a small serving dish. Glancing toward the bedroom, I know I only have a few seconds. I quickly put the food on the table along with a plate of freshly cut fruit, then grab a bottle of champagne, a bucket of ice, and two flutes.

Just as I finish placing everything on the table, I catch Izzy out of the corner of my eye and intercept her before she reaches the area.

“I have food.” I step back and turn sideways so she can see the table is set for two. “Sit.”

“You did this?” She gives me a questioning glance.

“Of course. I hope you don’t mind that we don’t have a stewardess. I thought we’d use the time to get to know each other.”

She tilts her head back and appraises me with her eyes. Her stare lingers, and I forget the pain in my leg. She’s like a drug that eases my pain and makes me see a future I never envisioned.

I need to get a handle on my emotions before we land. It’s not like me to be so… malleable. Suddenly, I remember every etiquette tip my mother drilled into us and later reinforced in boarding school.

“Mm,” she murmurs as she picks up the bottle to read the label.

“I opted for champagne instead of cappuccino, but I can make some if that’s what you prefer.” Why am I droning on about coffee?

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