Page 25 of City Of Thieves
“I don’t get a line between my…” Her emphatic argument takes a nasty turn when her fingers brush across her face. Scowling, she drops her hand as a subtle click toward the front of the jet turns both our heads, sending my hand to my holster.
False alarm.
I let out a low breath and draw my jacket back over my gun as a bleach blonde in a tight black pantsuit appears in front of the cockpit door.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Marchesi.”
A curt nod is the most my flight attendant is going to get from me. While efficient, this girl seems to think “complimentary in-flight service” includes my dick. Unfortunately, her continual disregard of professional boundaries is going to end badly for her.
Flashing me a coy smile, she swings her hips down the aisle as she heads straight toward us.
Jesus Christ, this girl is about as subtle as an earthquake.
“We’ve arrived in London,” she chirps. “The airstairs are fully assembled, and I’ve arranged the car and hotel bookings as requested.” There’s a loaded pause as she bites her lip. “Can I be of anyotherservice?”
Absolutely-fucking-not. “That’ll be all, Piper.” There’s no mistaking the warning in my tone.
Her lips flatten in disappointment as she hands me my bag. I watch as Tatiana casts a pointed look at her own bag resting in the aisle, but Piper clasps her hands in front of her and pins her with a defiant glare.
Well, this just got interesting.
I half expect retaliation for that. Instead, Tatiana’s mask remains firmly in place as she strides toward the doorway and retrieves the bag for herself.
“Thanks, but I’ve got mine,” she says, her backhanded gratitude laced with scorn.
Piper bares her teeth. “I’ve booked two separate rooms at The Annabel Park Hotel.”
“How efficient of you.” At this, Tatiana pushes past her and glides down the airstairs with her bag in tow.
By the time I catch up with her, I’m ready to pick at random threads again to see what unravels next.
“Retract the claws, kitten. She’s just an employee.”
Tatiana’s manic pace comes to an abrupt halt. She slowly spins around before letting out a harsh laugh. “You think I’mjealous of your flight attendant? Let me be very clear, Mr. Marchesi… I couldn’t care less who or what you do. This is a business trip, and despite what you may tell yourself”—she leans forward, the sweet scent of her perfume doing fucked-up things to my self-control—“you’re just not that interesting.”
“Is that right?”
“Afraid so.”
There’s that steel-tipped sarcasm again.
“First rule of lying,dolcezza, make this”—closing the space between us, I lightly tap the same vertical line sinking between her eyes again—“match what comes out of this.” Lowering my finger I trace the outer edge of her lips, my dark heart igniting as she starts to tremble.
It’s a whisper of a touch.Restrained.A deceptive taste of what I’m truly capable of… Yet somehow, it’s more intense than if I’d grabbed her by the throat and pinned her against the jet.
Tatiana jerks away, tossing me a filthy look before resuming her walk to the black town car parked next to the jet. “I’d like to go straight to the hotel,” she clips in that haughty tone that both boils my blood and hardens my dick. “I want to freshen up, then spend the rest of the day in the company of someone I can actually stomach.”
Nice try, dolcezza.There’s no way in hell I’m letting Tatiana out of my sight. Regardless of whatshe’d like, every step she takes in London will have a fucking shadow behind it. The path of distrust is a mutual highway.
Once again, silence drums an awkward beat between us as we approach the car. Three feet out, the driver’s side door swings open, and a man in a tailored suit steps onto the tarmac.
“Greetings, Mr. Marchesi. I’m Harold, and I’ll be—”
“Leaving,” I finish for him.
He blinks. “I beg your pardon, sir?”
“What part of that didn’t you understand, Harold?” I say, barely keeping my temper in check. “You’ll be leaving now. Walking away. Exiting the premises.” Holding his confused stare, I shove my palm toward his chest. “I’ll need the keys.”
