Page 223 of Chandelier Sin
“Do you think it will be a problem?” I asked. “Getting her out?”
“No,” he said with remarkable confidence.
From our window, we watched the tarmac speed by in the moonlight as the plane jettisoned down the runway. Atticus’ expression remained stark.
I gripped the edge of my seat, knuckles white. “How are we going to find her in that city?” My voice sounded faint against the roar of the engines.
Atticus focused on the endless stretch of gray. “We’re working with the best.”
“Who’s paying for them?”
“Relax, okay?” He turned to look at me. “This flight will seem impossibly long, but you have to try to get some sleep.”
I gripped the armrests.
“For the record,” I said, sharing my truth. “I didn’t leave Aemon before I had Eloise because the doors at home were locked. I was caged in that house.”
Atticus’ eyes were a deep chestnut hue, and they regarded me with quiet understanding. “Do I have your permission to take things from here?”
“What does that mean?”
“Bellini?” he smirked.
“You remembered.”
He gave me a heart-stopping smile. “I recall everything about you.”
I laid my hand on his. “Thank you. For everything.”
“After takeoff, get some rest.”
“I’ll try,” I whispered. “But I’m so excited that she’ll be in my arms again soon.”
The plane took off, and the force of gravity pushed me back against my seat as the world outside blurred, my anticipation building as we ascended into the sky.
Atticus tenderly lifted my hand to his lips, planting a soft kiss on my fingers. It felt like he was not only sharing this burden ofmine but also understanding the depth of my pain. Even sharing my fear that something might go wrong.
Finally, he said, “You are right, of course. That fucker did deserve to go out like that.”
“What happened to my idealist?”
“I met you.”
“Nothing’s going to be the same again, is it?” I said softly.
He circled the back of my hand with a fingertip. “That’s a good thing.”
“What if whoever has Eloise puts up a fight against us?”
“I need you to promise me, you’ll leave the room when I say these words.”
My heart stuttered. “What words?”
“Allow me to turn your grace into beautiful chaos.”
I knitted my brow together, confused, but he’d already pushed out of his seat, preventing my response. He walked toward the galley and asked the flight attendant to bring more drinks.
I tried not to think about why he’d say such a thing.
