Chapter 12 Kitty
TWELVE
KITTY
“HOLY FUCK, KITTY!” Neev shrieked once we were past the check-in desk and the attendant had informed us we had lounge access. “YOU UPGRADED OUR TICKETS TO FIRST CLASS?”
Feeling the hit of Dramamine in my blood, and aware that my brain wasn’t in enough working order for this screamfest, I protested, “Neev, I hate to break it to you, but I don’t have that kind of cash.”
“You must have,” Raisin crowed. “You’re the best sister ever!!!!”
As the two of them gossiped about how awesome I was—a compliment that didn’t require flight upgrades because I rocked 24/7—I pondered how the hell we had those first-class tickets when that wasn’t what I’d booked.
My bank account was close to hitting negative figures… I didn’t have the air miles, the funds, or the credit score for this purchase.
Now, I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, and if the airline gods had decided to spontaneously upgrade us, then this was one of the best things to ever happen to me, but…
Me: The likelihood of getting a free upgrade to first class?
I tipped my watch to face me when I saw Lara had replied.
Lara: Nil. Unless you’re a frequent flyer or have a rewards program.
Me: So, tell me why we’re flying first class?
Lara:
Lara: You hit the plane lottery, bitch!
Me: I’m too doped up to be smug, but yeah, that’s how my day’s going lol. You?
Lara: I’m stuck in traffic.
Having long since abandoned nursing, Lara drove for a swanky firm that chauffeured celebs around Vermont.
Me: Aren’t you always?
Lara: Pretty much lol.
Lara: Lemme know when you make it to the land of golden beaches and shrimp ceviche?
Me: Will do. Tell the others?
Lara: That you’re a lucky bitch? Sure thing.
“What’s wrong?” Neev strode along the premium security line like she belonged there.
Only, we didn’t.
Our tushes should have been firmly planted in basic bitch economy.
And if I did have the cash for an upgrade, I wouldn’t have wasted it on these flights, but tickets for the New York Stars’ playoffs series.
So, what the fuck was even happening here?!
“Nothing’s wrong,” I said uneasily, wishing that Dramamine wasn’t dulling my senses. Wispy thoughts of Trojan horses—or did I mean gift horses?—and red flags were interrupted by Raisin’s:
“You know she hates flying, Neev. Don’t remind her.”
“Thanks for the reminder!”
“Well, you can’t hate flying in first class. We need to get you drunk in the lounge. OMG, I can’t believe how much you rock, Kitty. This totally makes up for that shitty Christmas present you bought me—”
“Geeeeee. Thanks.”
Neev patted me on the shoulder. “Your gift-giving game used to suck, sis, but as I said, this makes up for it. We’re going to Cancún, bishes!”
I rolled my eyes as we walked through security, not getting stopped even though I knew Neev had forgotten half the stuff she was supposed to take out. She always did. And always ended up getting her bag raided like she was a criminal.
But not today.
While none of this made any sense, upon entering the lounge, I decided to throw a ‘fuck it’ to the wind. We’d kept our ultimate destination a secret, fully aware that Lucas and Cade would spoil our fun.
Suspicious Kitty would return when I was back at work, but now brother-free, we were going to “La Bamba” the nights away.
Raisin’s eyes practically glowed. “Is that a free bar?”
“Yeah, but they won’t let us board if we’re rowdy.” I elbowed Neev. “Which means you can have two vodkas and nothing else.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “We both know I can handle my vodka better than you, Ms. Two Shots And I’m Anyone’s.”
“That isn’t the burn you think it is,” I called to her back as she wandered over to the food, literally leaving us in the entryway of the lounge to carry her shit over to a table.
“She sucks. Why did we bring her again?”
“She’s lucky we love her.” Chin tilted high, Raisin scoped out the space. “My god, it’s awesome here.”
I tugged on her hand before she could rush over to the bar, leaving me with her bags too. “Raisin, I didn’t pay for the upgrade.”
Okay, so that ‘fuck it’ had faded once I saw how calm this place was.
Dark, too. Relaxed. Everyone looked rich and like they belonged as they strolled between clusters of leather armchairs with their designer carry-ons topped with spendy purses sporting jaunty silk scarves and red-soled mortgage payments on their feet.
“Of course you did.”
“I didn’t,” I denied.
“Then, who did?”
I knew a lot of rich people, but none of them who’d do this. Maybe Currau? But hell, he didn’t know how to work the smart TV in his room, never mind a credit card—
“Belle?” Our sister-in-law. “She’s loaded.”
I bit my lip. “But we didn’t invite her…”
“That’s only because she’s married to our brother, duh. She smirked when we told her the married woman would cramp our style with all the sex we’d be—”
“Excuse me.”
Both of us jumped out of the way, but I was the first to apologize. “Sorry—” I blinked when I saw whose path we’d blocked.
His gaze glanced off me as he strode into the lounge, an atrociously expensive, monogrammed overnight bag slung over his shoulder, but the scowl on his face was louder than a thunderstorm before a tornado hit the city.
“Wow, he’s hot,” Raisin mumbled. “And angry.”
Yeah. To both.
Seeing him out of a hospital setting confirmed what my eyes had told me long ago.
The fact he was also pissed off only added to the smoke eddying from his ears.
I swallowed.
Maybe this was Currau setting me—
“Kitty? You okay?”
I jumped. “Yeah. I’m fine.”
“Don’t lie. You look like you saw a ghost. Do you know that guy?”
“He’s Helicopter Valentini.”
“Who?”
“You know! The Valentini always in the ER,” I hissed. “Jesus, Raisin. I know we’re not tied to the mob like Cade and Lucas, but you should still know the who’s who of the city’s worst reprobates!”
“Yeah, yeah. So, maybe the upgrade’s a fate thing?”
If the Dramamine wasn’t slowing me down, I felt sure I’d— “It couldn’t be Belle. She had no idea where our destination was.”
“Could be Ma or those walking penises we call brothers.”
“How could it be? They don’t have our booking reference!”
“Look, let’s not question our good luck. I wanna enjoy this.”
She was right.
For once.
But…
A niggle wormed its way into my brain.
Who’s who…
Mexican-style.
Mexico was a whole other ball of wax.
But I’d checked the state department’s website and Cancún was safe.
I wasn’t totally irresponsible.
And you couldn’t just upgrade someone’s flights. It wasn’t like going into a store with a freakin’ gift card—
“Do you want me to get you a drink?”
Torn from my thoughts, I muttered, “Ma could have accessed my phone and found our reservation number.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, Kitty. It’s Ma. Now, drink?!”
“Can you bring me some water?”
“Yeah. Right.”
“I took four Dramamine. If you don’t want me rolling out of here in a body bag, get me something soft.”
“THEY HAVE A HOT CHOCOLATE STATION!” Neev shrieked, drawing the eyes of the few occupants in the thankfully empty lounge.
Too confused and, well, high to bother being embarrassed, I managed to drag our stuff over to the nearest table, when Raisin wandered off—sans bags.
Tomorrow, I knew I’d question my sanity.
Today, medicinally addled and bewildered, I strode over to Custanzu Valentini, who was doing that sexy thing men did—elbows on his spread knees, revealing a thin sliver of very expensive sock. The position had his suit bunching in all the right places too…
Since his sojourn in the hospital, he’d packed on some weight. Or, at least, he didn’t appear as gaunt. His beautifully tailored suit hid a multitude of sins, but not that many.
And not his gun, apparently.
Not that you could travel with a gun.
Could you?
But he had one.
So maybe you could.
Still, weapons and FAA regulations aside, the mental ‘yum’ was impossible to ignore as it slingshotted between my drugged neurons with Bart Simpson-level precision.
Embracing Bart’s braggadocio style, I stepped in front of him then cleared my throat when he didn’t look up.
“I’ll take an espresso, please.”
“I’m not a server and I think this place is self-service anyway,” I scoffed.
“No, I doubt a server would have worn heels that high for a day shift.”
He noticed!
Not that I cared.
I didn’t.
At all.
I stared at him.
He stared at me.
And there it was again—that pinch.
But it was followed with a belly roll. Some butterflies too.
God, he was hot.
Enough that the heat transferred and made me perspire.
How had I pushed that aside when I’d been treating him?
Man, I was so professional at work. Talk about rocking it on the nursing front.
Giving myself a mental high five, I pouted when I realized he didn’t recognize me from the hospital.
“Is there something I can do for you?”
“I mean, yes? I don’t regularly accost strangers without a reason.”
Amusement flickered in his gaze. “What?”
“Um.”
His brow lifted.
Wow.
Just… wow.
That was so hot.
His face lit up. The features softening. Making all that sexiness mush into one big vat of gorgeousness that I didn’t want to sit on. Nope.
“Does Currau know you’re here?”
That lifted brow tanked. “You know my great-uncle?”
Ooooooooooooof.
The sexy face had me drooling, but that gravel in his voice?
Mmm.
Maybe Currau was right about Sicilians—
“Miss?”
“Did you upgrade our tickets?”
He peered around me. “I think I should call for a member of staff—”
“I work at the hospital he’s in,” I squeaked, aware that I’d fucked this conversation up while also being inexplicably aroused with zero stimulation. For me, that bordered on a miracle.
Raisin said I was demisexual because revving my engine took a lot. I just thought I had high standards.
Consider my engine well and truly revved, sis.
He blinked.
Wait, had I said that out loud?!
“You think I tell my great-uncle when I’m traveling?”