Page 9 of Highball and Chain

Shanna

The plane nearedthe ground and my stomach knotted, but it had nothing to do with the change in altitude. I hadn’t heard from Enzo Marchionni since the case of the tainted soup at the engagement party. Soon, I’d come face-to-face with the Ghoster.

Two months of maid of honor duty hadn’t lessened the sting of my epic walk of shame. The fact that he hadn’t bothered to return my call or texts pissed me off. Though, I supposed I deserved it.

What kind of woman has an almost-one-night stand with her best friend’s fiancé’s brother?

The plane bounced a couple of times as the wheels made contact with the runway. Before I could catch my breath, the pilot hit the brakes. I tightened every muscle in my body to resist the forward pull.

Dahlia patted my hand. “Relax. That was the last landing until it’s time to go home.”

The thought of repeating the trip in reverse made my already-aching head worse. After two connections and a total of twenty hours traveling, I wanted a hot meal, a shower, and a warm bed. “Thanks for the reminder.”

She ignored my comment.

Peering out the window, I said, “I thought the airport was bigger?”

“You’re probably thinking Palermo. Comiso is tiny, but closer to the villa.”

“Right.” I ground my teeth. Despite the fact the plane had stopped, no one stood.

Dahlia rummaged through her bag. “I still don’t understand why Maggie insisted on having the ceremony in Sicily. So what if the press covered the wedding? One of us should be married in St. Louis Cathedral.”

“You can, when you marry Leo.” My knee bounced. Why weren’t these people standing?

“We’re just friends.” Dahlia scrolled through her messages.

“Uh huh.”

Dahlia and Leo had danced around each other for the previous ten years but never officially dated. Though they denied it, I assumed they had sex since Leo was the only man in Dahlia’s life besides her one-year-old son.

“Maggie said the guys are picking us up.” Dahlia typed a text message, smiled, and sat back.

“Which guys?” I stood and pulled my carry-on from the overhead bin.

“Probably Gabe and Leo.”

Standing hunched over, I waited for the people to start moving. “Seriously, how long does it take to open a freaking door?”

Dahlia twisted her long dark hair into a messy bun. “Shanna, relax. They’ll open it soon.”

“They need to hurry the hell up, I’m claustrophobic.” I drummed my fingers until the man in the seat in front of me glared.

“Since when?”

Since I’m halfway around the world, trapped on an island with Enzo Marchionni. The door opened and the passengers filled the aisle. “About time.”

We picked up our luggage and exited the terminal building into paradise. A steady breeze blew from the Mediterranean, warming my face and lifting my spirits. That is, until masculine laughter filled the air, and someone pulled my carry-on from my shoulder.

I turned and locked gazes with the Ghoster.

“Here, let me help you.” Enzo smiled, his teeth bright against his tanned face.

“Thanks, but I can manage.” I tugged, but he held firm.

“I insist.”

“For crying out loud, let the man help you.” Dahlia handed her bag to Gabe. “She’s been cranky since we left New Orleans.”