Page 88 of Love to Defy You
“I will.”
I press the end call button by jabbing the screen with my finger, then shove it against Enzo’s chest. Jeez, it’s like punching a brick wall of muscle.
I turn around and head for the car, rolling my suitcase behind me on the sidewalk. “I should have taken the commercial flight.”
Enzo jogs to catch up to me and wraps his fingers around the handle of my suitcase, brushing against my hand. “Let me take this for you.”
“Fine.” I release the luggage and climb into the back seat. A divider separates us from the driver, which means anything could happen to me back here and no one would know. Theweight of my mistake presses down on me, and I rest my forehead against the glass.
I shouldn’t have come with Enzo. I’ll be alone with him in the back seat of his car and then again on his private jet. It’s a recipe for disaster.
Enzo loads up my suitcase into the trunk and shuts the door, then climbs into the back seat beside me. I refuse to look at him.
“Champagne?” He taps a dark bottle sitting in an ice bucket in front of him.
“No, thanks.”
“Cheer up, Willow. We’re on holiday.” He pops the champagne and pours it into a flute. “Let’s kick back and relax. You’re too tense.” Enzo reaches across the seat and squeezes my shoulder, but when I push him off, he just chuckles. “See what I mean? So tense.”
I round on him. “Let me make one thing clear. The only reason I’m coming with you is because Alek is in your custody, and I don’t want anything to happen to him.”
His smug grin falters. “Do you really think so little of me?”
“Oh, don’t act like I hurt your feelings. That’s how you got invited to Thanksgiving dinner, remember?”
He takes a sip of champagne and studies me for a long pause. When he doesn’t say anything, I scoff and turn away from him, watching the buildings move past the window as the car pulls into traffic.
We don’t talk for the rest of the ride. When we reach the airport, the car pulls directly onto the tarmac and drops us in front of a small jet. The royal crest of Lichtenstein is painted on the tail, and the sun is setting behind it, haloing the glossy, black body of the plane in orange sunlight.
Okay, I’ll admit it’s impressive.
Enzo slides out first, then holds the door open for me. Instead, I open the door on my side and climb out, but my sneakersdon’t hit asphalt. There’s a black carpet rolled out that leads to the stairs of the plane, and the golden crest of the Liechtenstein royal family is embroidered into the rug beneath my feet.
As I climb the stairs, I feel Enzo’s eyes on my ass, and I curse myself when heat floods my center. God, I’m such an attention whore.
But just because I like Enzo’s adoration doesn’t mean I want to act on it. Although, I wouldn’t mind him sitting in the corner of my bedroom watching me and Alek go at it.
When we reach the top of the stairs, I sit in one of the beige leather seats.
“Are you all right?” Enzo takes the seat across the aisle from me, and I’m thankful for the distance. “You’re flushed.”
“Just winded from the stairs.” I grimace at him before averting my gaze.
Enzo snorts. “Really? From what I’ve seen, I’d say your stamina is superb.”
I should tell him off for talking that way to me, but instead, it just makes my arousal worse, and I swallow to assuage the dryness in my throat.
“What? No witty comeback?” Enzo spreads out and leans back, and my eyes are drawn to the seam of his pants below his zipper. He swivels his seat to face me, giving me an unobstructed view of the distinct bulge growing there.
I glance away, but it’s too late.
“You’re thinking about how many inches I have on Kurochkin, aren’t you?” Enzo’s dark eyes glint with wicked mischief.
“Oh, my God. Shut up.” I fold my arms and stare out the window at the tarmac.
A stewardess in a tight skirt emerges from a door at the back of the plane and makes her way down the aisle. “Can I offer you any champagne before takeoff?” I turn around to acknowledge her,but she’s staring at his crotch and fluffs her curly blonde bob. “Or anything else, Mr. Messina?”
Enzo addresses her when he speaks, but he pins his intense gaze on me. “Champagne will be fine. Thank you, Gretchen.”
