Page 32 of Protection (Mobsters + Billionaires 2)
I’m a happy guy wherever I go, but this truly is my happy place. I turn and find Anthony hesitating at my bedroom door. I point out the seating area. “Go ahead. Take a load off. Your clothes will be here shortly, and I’ll get started with packing mine.”
Shifting uncomfortably, he slowly walks into my room for the first time, looking like a lost cat in a new place. He lives in a nice apartment in Luca’s building, and he’s certainly used to fancy living situations, but I’m a little gloaty that he seems to enjoy my setup.
I walk in from the closet, carrying the clothes I need for the trip.
“So…no butler?”
I scrunch my nose, rolling my T-shirts and jeans before lining them up in my carry-on. “No. I don’t like people touching my stuff. And I really hate the idea of needing help with packing a bag.”
“What about expedience?” he asks, throwing my words back at me.
I straighten out my suit on the bed and point to my packed carry-on. “I’m pretty much already done. In this case, it is most expedient to have me choose my own wardrobe for the trip.”
I can tell he doesn’t like it, though I’m not sure why. It sounds weird, but like everything else, I think he wants better for me. Which is sweet as fuck.
He runs downstairs to grab spare toiletries from the guest suite as I finish packing. I suppose I shouldn’t wear the orange puffer when meeting with dignitaries, but I do manage to sneak it into my luggage before Anthony comes back upstairs, and that makes me inordinately happy.
Thankfully, his clothing purchases arrive quickly, and we are in the car and heading toward the heliport in short order. The helicopter whisks us to Teterboro’s private airpark. I made sure to buy a jet that could fly long distances with minimal refueling because I mostly use it when I need to get somewhere fast and don't want to bother with the details.
The pilot, co-pilot, and flight attendant join us, and I’m glad to see my usual crew on board tonight. The pilot apologizes for the wait as the jets in front of ours line up for take-off, but I wave him off. “No worries, Captain. Just get us to Vienna as quickly as possible.”
He sends me a salute, and Anthony and I sit in the back.
“This is really nice leather,” he says, sinking into the beautiful armchair, an enormous book on his lap.
“You act as though you've never sat in a leather chair before. What are you reading?”
He cocks his brow at me. “Shut up. Rand’s plane has leather seats. These are just…buttery-er.”
“Ha!” I pump my fist, then press my hand to my chest, completely dramatic. “You would tell a client to shut up?”
Rolling his eyes, he continues, “And I’m reading Plutarch’s Lives, volume four. I borrowed it from your library.”
I grimace. “Yikes. Of all the things to steal from my amazing collection, you chose Greek philosophy? Did you run out of Tylenol PM?”
“I'm off the clock,” he says, fiddling with the buttons on the side of his chair. “And yes, reading up on history and philosophy is a hobby.”
“Your hobbies are weird.”
Our flight attendant, Chadrick, a beautiful man with perfect blond hair and white teeth, approaches us. Well, he approaches Anthony and ignores me entirely.
Anthony’s still trying to make the seat work, so Chadrick, ever so helpful, leans over and adjusts the seat, brushing his thighs as he does.
Grr.
“Comfy, sir?” he asks, hovering.
Anthony, looking anything but, gives him a short smile. “Yes, thank you.”
“Can I get you anything? A drink or…?”
I catch Anthony’s eye and raise my brows. He stifles a laugh.
“No, I’m great.”
“Okay then. Let me know if that changes,” Chadrick says, winking as he flounces off.
Grr.
