Chapter 50
The tray shakes in my hands, the glasses rattling so loudly I’m sure even the passengers in economy can hear.
And then I do the dumbest thing in the world for someone who was hired just a week ago.
I rush back to the galley, drop the tray on the counter, and lock myself in the bathroom.
I sit on the toilet and lower my head between my knees, certain that if I don’t, I’ll faint. I try to remember my phone conversation with Amber yesterday.
“Please, don’t hate me, sister.”
“Amber? What happened? Why would I hate you?”
I meant to go to bed early since I had a flight this morning, but the anguish in her voice put me back on edge.
“I called Gianni,” she finally confessed, the words that had been torturing her.
I jumped up from bed. “How could you do that behind my back?”
“I love you, Elodie, and that’s why I couldn’t just stand by and watch you destroy yourself like this. You’re not living anymore. You’re only existing.”
“You had no right to decide for me, Amber.”
“Someone had to, Elodie. You’re not the only one who lost a child. He did, too, and he had the right to know.”
“I need to hang up.”
“Don’t run.”
“I’m not.”
“Then don’t shut me out.”
“I won’t, Amber. But I need time to decide.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m thinking of going to Italy. Following my original plan before I lost the baby, to talk to Gianni. My therapist says I need closure.”
“You only decided that because now he knows.”
“No, I only found the courage because now he knows. No matter what, the baby was his, too. You’re right about that.”
Since leaving the hospital after the miscarriage, I’ve been surviving one day at a time, with rare moments of joy, like when my niece Violet was born or at my sister’s wedding with Beau.
I’m vaguely aware that I’m depressed. I even attend online therapy once a week, because outside of work—first on Beau’s friend’s jet, and now finally with a small airline—my life has been stagnant.
It took me nearly six months to find the courage to search online and uncover the whole sordid story involving Gianni and Capria.
Now I know everything: that the child wasn’t his, that there was no engagement, no wedding plans, and most of all, that he never appeared publicly with her again.
Which means whatever they had was really over.
But none of that could bring my child back.
I don’t blame him for the loss. More than once, I picked up the phone to call him, to tell him everything, but by the time I learned of Capria’s lies, more than six months had passed, and I lost my nerve.
I regret not telling him about the miscarriage from the start, but I was too broken to make a rational decision. All I wanted was to hide and cry.
Before him, all I had was a nomadic life.
When I fell in love, I let myself dream. I dared to want it all, dared to believe I deserved it.
I didn’t brace myself for the fall like I had all my life, always expecting the worst from people.
When it came, I couldn’t get back up.
I still can’t.
I sounded brave when I spoke to my sister, but only because I thought I’d have more time to prepare before seeing him again. I never imagined I’d find him at work.
“Elodie, are you okay?” I hear the purser, Miles, ask.
“Yes, I’m coming out,” I say. After checking that my uniform is in order, I open the door.
It’s not just him waiting outside but also the other flight attendant, the one who’s been nothing but rude to me.
“Leave us,” I hear Gianni’s voice tell them.
Irene, the other attendant, looks ready to protest until Gianni whispers something in Miles’s ear that makes him go pale.
“Don’t come back until we’re gone,” he orders with the same arrogance I remember.
Miles grabs Irene by the arm and practically drags her away.
And then, finally, I’m standing face to face with the man who’s haunted my dreams since the first time I saw him.
No matter how much I tried to forget him during our time apart, I always knew, just as I know now, that it was impossible.
He doesn’t speak.
He just looks at me. But our silence isn’t empty.
It’s filled with longing, loss, with pain.
And something else that will never fade.
Our flame. The same as it was in the beginning. The need to touch him is so strong my knees tremble.
I know what he’s going to do before he even moves. I fell so deeply for Gianni that, in the few months we had together, I memorized his gestures, his looks, his smiles.
I know his desire, too.
So when he pulls me into his arms, I’m ready. I could’ve stepped back.
I don’t. I let myself get trapped in the wall of his body because I’ve dreamed of this embrace for more than a year.
I’ve wanted it so badly I hated myself for needing it.
“Romniya,” he whispers in my ear, and it’s like he pressed a button I’ve kept hidden.
The memories rush back. Our story, every detail.
“I have so much to tell you, Elodie, and I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Don’t speak yet.”
“Nothing?”
I shake my head. “My turn. Forgive me for not telling you about the baby. I was too hurt.”
I feel his chest rise, like he’s taking a deep breath, and his arms tighten even more around me. “I tried to hate you for keeping it from me.”
“And you don’t?”
He pulls back to look at me. “No. I hate myself for thinking I made the right decision when I sent you to that apartment that night.”
“You were protecting the woman you thought was carrying your child.”
“No. I was protecting you. I didn’t know what was going on. We were in a foreign country. If Capria was telling the truth, I didn’t want you arrested.”
“I didn’t—”
He presses his fingers to my lips. “You don’t need to explain anything about her. Don’t say her name again. She’s not even worthy of it.”
I hear the cockpit door open, and I step back, startled.
But the man just glances at Gianni and retreats back inside.
“You need to return to your seat,” I say, trying to sound professional.
Not just because it’s my duty as a flight attendant, but because being near him is too overwhelming.
He doesn’t argue. Instead, he takes my hand, sits me in the seat he occupied earlier, and then settles beside me.
I’m trembling, and it only gets worse when he leans over me. He grabs a small water bottle from the holder, opens it, and hands it to me.
My God. Water. How foolish! I thought he was going to touch me.
“Drink.”
“I can’t sit here with you.”
“You won’t lose your job.”
“How can you know that?”
“I own the company,” he says, as casually as if he were commenting on the weather.
It takes me less than a fraction of a second to realize Amber set this up behind my back.
I glare at him, but Gianni doesn’t flinch.
He just watches me, waiting for me to obey and drink the water. I do it, more to keep myself busy than because I’m thirsty. I fumble with the bottle and spill a little.
I see, almost in slow motion, as he reaches to wipe it away. His fingers catch my chin, his thumb brushing my lips as if to clean the drops.
But instead, staring into my eyes, he rubs there again and again.
My body reacts instantly, memories of a past I can’t forget crashing back like a tsunami.
When his hand slides to the back of my neck, I don’t protest. I don’t try to stand. I’m too focused on controlling my racing heart.
Then he seems to change his mind and, lifting me as if I weigh nothing, pulls me onto his lap before crushing his lips to mine.
It’s a desperate kiss. Nothing like we’ve ever shared before. I try not to give in, keep my mouth shut, but at the first touch of his hot tongue, I’m horrified to hear a moan escape from deep in my throat.
Gianni is relentless in his demand. Lips, teeth, tongue, dominating me, subduing me the way only he can. When my hands slide into his hair—because I can’t resist—he grips my hips, positioning me better over his already hard length.
I move, seeking more friction, my body on fire and oblivious to the world around us.
It’s only when his hand slides up my thigh, over the garter belt, that I remember where we are.
I bolt from his lap so fast he doesn’t have time to stop me, panic flooding me at how close I came to letting us go too far right there in a first-class seat.
I rush for the bathroom again, but this time, before I can shut the door, he’s there, slipping in behind me and locking us both inside.
The space can barely hold us. He’s so big it forces me to face the mirror, my back to him.
“Oh no. You’re never running again.”
I swallow hard, staring at our reflections, both looking out of control. And I know why.
Raw desire.
No matter how much we fight it, we’ll always be each other’s madness.