Chapter 16
Chapter
Sixteen
ZACK
I know now that I can stare at the screen of a tablet and not read a single word in ten minutes. And it’s not because I’m tired. No, it’s because the girl next to me…who’s oblivious to the fact that I understand every word…is busy on the phone with her friend, whispering in French as if it’s some secret code. But it’s not. I catch every single word.
I’m not even sure what to make of it…her “fantasies,” as she calls them, spilling out in a low, embarrassed rush. Her words replay in my head, one after another, and I can barely process them.
I try not to look at her as she finally drifts off. There’s a strange mix of disbelief and… something else, gnawing at me. Because for all her rambling, all her innocent denial of these feelings for me, she wants things from me she couldn’t bring herself to admit out loud if I asked her directly. She wants intensity. She wants to be consumed. I never truly thought she had that kind of fire in her.
And maybe… maybe she’d be easier to win over than I thought. It was a simple enough plan, to have her infatuated with me, so she’d leave Brett alone. But now, I find myself watching her, maybe longer than I should. There’s something interesting about her…stubborn and completely unaware of herself, like she doesn’t see just how clearly she shows everything she feels. But I shake the thoughts away, forcing myself to focus back on the screen, on the numbers waiting for me.
The plane touches down in Rome as the sun begins to set, bathing the runway in a golden light. Jenny, of course, is buzzing with excitement, practically bouncing in her seat. From the windows, she scans the tarmac, clearly looking for her own way out, as if she’s forgotten I’m even here.
Once she collects her bags, I point her toward the black sedan waiting for us. “Your ride’s this way.”
She frowns, glancing past me. “Actually… I already booked a hotel for myself. I can find my way there from here. It’s a little place on Via Maggio. It’s affordable, and you’ve already done more than enough for me, so I’d like to handle it from here.”
I feel my jaw tighten, but I manage to keep my voice calm. “Affordable?” I repeat. “Jenny, we’re in Rome. It’s a big city, and I’d rather know you’re safe. I have a suite at Hotel de Russie. You’d be comfortable there.”
She shakes her head, crossing her arms. “Thank you, but no. This is my trip, and it’s work-related, so I’d really like to handle it on my terms.”
I take a slow breath, forcing myself to stay patient. “Alright,” I say, meeting her eyes. “But if anything feels off or you change your mind, call me. Don’t take any chances.”
Her mouth quirks up in a small, triumphant smile. “Noted,” she replies, clearly feeling victorious.
We step off the jet onto the quiet tarmac of the private terminal, where a sleek black sedan is waiting nearby, the chauffeur already holding the door open. However, she doesn’t get in.
“What is it now??” I ask and her hand tightens around the handle of her suitcase.
“Actually,” she starts, meeting my gaze with that same defiance, “I’d rather handle this myself as well. Just drop me at a main area nearby, where I can catch a cab.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You don’t need to call a cab, Jenny. I can drop you off. I need to at least know where you’re staying.”
She shakes her head, her stance firm. “Thanks, but no.”
I sigh, resigned, and signal the chauffeur to take us to a central location near the commercial terminal where taxis are available. As we pull up, she gives a quick, triumphant nod.
“Thanks for the lift,” she says, stepping out with her suitcase.
I watch her disappear into the city, both exasperated and reluctantly impressed. This trip might be more challenging than I’d planned.
The drive to the hotel is quiet, though I can’t shake the irritation gnawing at me. Once we arrive, the concierge shows me to the suite, a sprawling setup with an adjoining door…planned for Jenny to be next door. It was supposed to be perfect, but now she’s off at some questionable hotel, stubborn as always, and I’m stuck with an empty room beside mine. I grind my teeth as the door clicks shut, feeling the frustration settle deeper. Stubborn doesn’t even begin to describe her.