ella
He meant it when he said he wouldn’t touch me with the hawk tattoo on my arm, and though his manipulative personality, combined with my tattoo, an extension of Kayden, saves me from his touch, no such thing is true of his attention. He watches me the entire flight, which I estimate to be two hours thus far. And while his eyes are all over my naked body, intent on taunting me and promising me punishment, I tune him out. I see him but do not see him, nor do I allow myself to feel him. Surviving him is a practiced skill that I do well, and my mind is not on Garner Neuville, or my naked body, or even the chill of the air blowing on my skin. I disappear into a mental zone that’s all about calculating, plotting, and tallying what the voices and movement in the plane tell me, which equate to four men and a pilot, in addition to us. The real question becomes how many will be on the ground when we land, and how many will travel with us to our new destination. Certainly his bodyguard Bastile and a driver, and if it stands there, my odds are good.
Time ticks by and each minute takes me farther from Rome, but I hope not Europe, where Kayden’s best resources exist. Finally, less than three hours since I awoke, I’m certain, the engines’ hums shift, our altitude with them, and we begin to descend to the ground. Neuville changes as well, a sense of urgency in his energy showing in his gray devil eyes. He unties me, the cigar-and-whisky scent of him turning my stomach. His hands on top of my arms, which are positioned on the armrests, and his body close to mine jerk me fully back into the present, where I’m naked and his breath is hot on my face.
“Get dressed, but don’t get used to those clothes,” he orders. He sits back down and watches me struggle through a bumpy descent I should be strapped in for.
His gaze goes to my nipples and for a moment I feel disgust at his inspection, but I shove it aside, cursing that part of me that remains ever so human, and thanks to this man, at moments fragile in a way I despise with every part of my being. Humanity is a luxury, or curse, a demon even, that I can’t afford. I’ll wrestle that part of me later, with Kayden.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” I say once I’m dressed, which is true. That human thing wins again, but it also gives me a chance to exit this plane with anything I might use as a weapon.
He looks irritated. “I’ll go with you.” He stands and motions me to the back of the plane.
And I know what’s coming. He’ll keep the door open and watch me, but I don’t have a choice. I have to be 100 percent on my game when we land, so I can assess what’s really happening with Sara and Kayden. When I have the chance to kill and not be killed.
I turn and walk to the back, looking for any small weapon I can discreetly latch on to. But the walk is short and there’s not even a pen or pencil I could jab in his neck or better yet, his groin.
Instead, I endure the bumps and shifts of the plane as I go to the bathroom with Neuville watching, absolute sadistic enjoyment in his expression as I do. That bothers me more than him looking at me naked, but by the time I’m back in my seat, strapped in, with him directly in front of me, I’m just ready to be out of this steel prison and on the ground. The sensation of the wheels hitting the pavement promises me that he’s one step closer to dead, and I have to bite back a smile.
He does smile, those brutal lips of his curving, and I know the look on his face. It’s the prelude to an attack, be it mental or physical, that he is savoring before it even happens. And it’s not a bluff, and nothing he does has limits one would expect from others, thus you never know how bad the bad he will deliver might be. And that look on his face is crystal clear, no words required. He’s planned a surprise for me when we land, which he will like and I will not. But I can’t let myself think about who, or what, that might be—I must be focused on a way to escape.
The plane halts and the doors open. He grabs my arm and forgets I’m buckled in, cursing. “Take the damn thing off.”