Page 4 of The Mafia Princess

She could feel the fatigue that was already pulling her down.

“Anna!”

Her head jerked up. “Y-yes, sir?” She could tell he wasn’t happy with her already, and they’d only been together less than thirty minutes.

“I’d like a coffee and whatever breakfast they have.”

She scrambled out of her seat, straightened her handkerchief over her hair, and the glasses on her face.

She had no idea how to make coffee and was already starting to panic when she noticed the carafe of already-made coffee and pastries. There was also fruit in the small frig. She set up a tray, trying to remember what was brought to her in the morning for so many years, and then carefully took it over to his seat.

He was reading papers, so she set them on the table in front of his chair.

“Would there be anything else, sir?”

“No,” he said without looking up.

“Okay.” She moved back to her chair and sat, releasing the breath she’d been holding. She’d done it. She served him a meal and hadn’t dropped it onto his lap.

Several hours passed, and as hard as she tried, she could not sleep. Remington worked the whole time, and Aryanna didn’t see him stop but take a bite of whatever food she set beside him on his table, or use the bathroom.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we will land at JFK in the next few minutes. Buckle yourselves into your seats. It should be a smooth landing,” the pilot said.

Aryanna tucked herself into her chair and watched as Remington casually put his things away before he relaxed and buckled himself in.

If she thought it had been nerve-racking watching the plane rise and the land get smaller, watching it come at her quickly made her tremble in fear.

She squeezed her eyes tightly closed as the plane softly bounced a few times and then glided to a stop next to a building with several small planes parked.

Aryanna had to take several breaths to calm her heart before releasing her buckle.

She hated how her legs shook when she stood and fought off the weakness. She made sure her hair and glasses were in the right place. The back of her neck had itched most of the flight because Lucile had braided her hair and put it down the back of her shirt to conceal it. Besides her light-colored eyes, her thick black hair was noticeable, so she needed to hide as much as possible. She hadn’t realized that people thought her looks were unusual and made her stand out.

“Grab your bag and come with me,” Remington said. “I have people coming to get mine.”

“Yes, sir.”

She picked it up and almost groaned. It wasn’t necessarily heavy, but she was weak from lack of sleep and not having eaten for over twenty-four hours.

She followed him off the plane and down the stairs. Three steps from the bottom, she tripped over her bag. If it hadn’t been for the pilot catching her, she would have landed on her face.

“Whoa, are you okay?” the pilot asked.

She nodded, smoothed the bandana on, and pushed her glasses back up her nose.

“Yes. Thank you so much.”

“You’re most welcome.”

She caught the curious look on the man’s face and decided to ignore it and hurry after Remington. He was standing beside a car, talking to a few men.

She stood behind him, waiting for her instructions.

The driver reached for her bag. “Let me take that, Miss.”

“Thank you.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist to try to hold in some of her body heat. It wasn’t cold, but the cool wind drifted right through her.

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