Page 17 of Promise Maker

We arrive at the airfield shortly.

An official looks over our documents beforeallowing us through the gate.

I start to feel nervous as we board the privatejet. I’ve flown several times before. However, this will be the first withoutmy dad.

Everyone gets comfortable in a seat. Only four guardsare flying with us, including the beefy one that seems to be closer to thefamily. The rest stay behind.

I sit away from theMartellisin a window seat, the heaviness of the significant loss starting to engulf meagain.

As the tears fall, I stare out the window at theclear sky and say a silent prayer for Dad. I hope he’s reunited with Mom.

“How about water?” the raspy voice offers.

I wipe my cheeks before looking at Domenico. “Nothanks.”

He sits across from me. “Drink. I can’t handle youcollapsing.”

Sucking my teeth, I accept the bottle and drink abit.

The plane starts to move, preparing to lift off.

“Are you nervous about flying?” he asks.

“No.”

I buckle my seatbelt.

Domenico buckles up instead of returning to hisprevious spot.

He doesn’t say anything, only stares at me.

I close my eyes and clamp my fists as the planesoars into the sky.

“SoI’m bringing you toSicily after all,” he remarks softly, causing me to look at him.

“Whatever.” I cut my eyes to the window.

“I’m deeply sorry about your father, Solari. I’vewitnessed that kind of pain, so I understand.” He sounds genuine.

I meet his gaze as my mind goes back to how badlyI needed his help. “Last night…I wasn’t sure you’d come. Thank you.”

He looks out the window. “You weren’t sure? Isthat because I didn’t return after six years as promised? Last night wasdifferent, Solari. You could have died. Your father…” He turns his head,trapping me with his eyes. “We spoke silly things in the garden.”

“It might be ridiculous to you, but I believed you.I don’t even—” Isuckin a sharp breath and wobble myhead as I exhale. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

A gentleness appears in his gaze. It seems hewants to say something, but he huffs instead.

After a brief pause, I ask, “Could I have a phoneto call my friend once we reach Sicily?”

Domenico pinches his brows. “This friend you’reinsisting on speaking to, is it a lover?”

Incredulous, I dip my head and peer up at him.“You have some nerve. That’s none of your business.”

“No phones,” he says, expression serious.

I twist my mouth. “I have to let Jazmine know I’mall right. She’s my best friend. I’m sure she’s heard what happened by now.”

“Soit’s not a lover.” Heconsiders it for a moment and says, “Fine. I’ll let you speak to your friend.”

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