Page 129 of Wounded King
That gets my attention. That and, as the fog slowly leaves my mind, images of crystal-clear water and palm trees dancing in front of me.
"We're really going?" The last of sleepiness leaves me.
"Yes," he grins.
My eyes fall on Felix, who is rubbing himself against the bags. "What about Felix?"
Marcello looks at him like a nuisance, before a wide grin spreads over his face. "Alejandro will housesit and make sure he's well taken care of. And you know Zia Rosa will spoil him rotten."
I don't know what Alejandro did to deserve this kind of punishment, but I don't care. My heart rate picks up. We're going on vacation.
I've never even left New York. Well, I suppose I was born in Vegas, but I don't think anything you can't remember counts. A little bit of guilt gnaws on me for leaving Felix, but Marcello is right, Zia Rosa will spoil him rotten. And Alejandro… he thinks I haven't seen him pet Felix here and there, just like Marcello. Both try to act like big, bad wolves, but deep down, they're just puppies.
With a squeal, I sling my arms around Marcello, "Yes!"
He kisses me deeply, before he slaps my ass, "Get dressed before we miss our plane."
I can't help myself, "I thought it was yours."
He laughs, "Good point."
I squeal again when he chases me into the shower.
The sun is already coming up by the time we finally get into the SUV. Over the past few weeks, I've gotten used to driving in one of Marcello's luxurious SUVs, but when we drive onto the airport,onto! not to—my excitement grows to new levels. The SUV drives up an airfield toward a hangar, where a plane is parked on the tarmac.
I'm not a complete idiot, I've seen private jets before—on TV—but I've never expected to see one in real life, let alone board it.
"Marcello," I gush when he opens the door for me and holds my hand to help me out.
"Your carriage awaits, principessa," he smirks.
Two more SUVs stop behind ours, and several of Marcello's bodyguards emerge. I recognize a few, mainly Marco and Kurt.
"No Luciano?" I look around.
Marcello gives me a strange sideways look, and it takes me a second to comprehend before I laugh, "Oh my God, Marcello. I'm just asking because I thought he might bring Pippa."
His expression is still dark, as if he is contemplating firing Luciano, or worse. I step in front of him, "Get over yourself. Luciano is a friend, and I was just curious."
"I don't like it when the two of you text each other," he grumbles.
"Well, I don't like it when you kill people, so there. We both have to live with the other's flaws."
He stares at me, dumbfounded, before he throws his head back and laughs, really laughs. I know my words sound blasé, and I don't condone killing anybody, but part of me is… getting used to it, for lack of a better description.
"He's got his hands full with the business," Marcello finally relents and fills me in. "It's just you and me."
And a shitload of bodyguards it seems, but I don't say anything. Because this is my life now. Honestly, when we climb up the stairs to the plane's entrance and enter, it's all worth it. Reclining leather seats surround polished wood tables, a deep, patterned carpet, and curtains in front of the windows make this place look more like a long living room rather than a plane.
Marcello steers me into a seat from where I can watch the guards load our baggage into the plane, before they too board. They take seats in the front to give us privacy.
"Excited?" Marcello asks, taking my hand.
I nod. A hundred things should have been on my mind. The call from my father a few days ago, the fact that I haven't spoken to my mom in over a week, or that my best friend is having the time of her life with Luciano, learning mafia traits. But none of that can compete. All that matters is the way Marcello is holding my hand, kissing the tips of my fingers. "Very much."
"Good," he grins happily. "I like spoiling and impressing you."
"You do both so very well," I agree.
