Chapter 9
NINE
ANTHONY
I sit across from Isabella on the jet on our way to Hawaii.
The family has a house there, one that few know of, and where Lucien and Briar spent their honeymoon.
It’s a house shrouded in the hills overlooking a secluded, private beach.
The perfect location to hide, to lay low while Lucien takes care of the Dragunoviks back in New York.
And every mile that puts distance between us and the city only makes my skin itch more, like I’m abandoning a fight I should be leading.
I should be there with him and not babysitting a Romero.
The idea leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, and I shift in my chair, annoyed all over again that I’m having to deal with a woman I thought I’d left long ago.
A past I’ve spent years trying to forget, and yet here she is, breathing, glaring, undoing every ounce of that effort.
“How much longer before we land?” Isabella glares at me, as if asking such a question annoys her as much as it does me, hearing her whine like a child.
“Two hours.” I don’t say anything more. Everything we had to say to each other has passed, and there is nothing between us now. Other than mutual animosity and hatred. And something else I refuse to name.
I turn to look out the window. Nothing but the Pacific Ocean, endless blue for miles around us. Out of my peripheral, I see her check her phone and sigh.
“We’ll have internet once we land. A few hours offline won’t hurt you.”
Not that we’re using our normal phones. Lucien swapped them out to accounts and names no one can trace back to the family or us.
Everything has to be secure to ensure we aren’t killed in the coming weeks.
A thought that should make me uneasy, but instead only fuels the irritation simmering in my chest.
We sit in silence for several minutes, perhaps an hour, before the whirr of the engines starts to decrease. We’ll be landing soon. Thank God. It can’t come soon enough. Another second trapped in this metal box with her feels like torture I didn’t sign up for.
Isabella seems to sense the same and sits up, slipping on her seatbelt.
She isn’t looking at me, but out the window, and I can’t stop myself from studying her.
She’s changed since I last saw her. Five years is a long time, but those years haven’t seemed to dim her beauty.
She’s still as beautiful as ever. Though the fiery red hair I once knew is now replaced with her natural blonde.
It suits her better, makes her look more mature.
More dangerous. More real. More like the woman I remember and wish I didn’t.
Still fucking beautiful, even if she’s an absolute backstabbing bitch.
“What the hell are you looking at, Anthony?” She turns to me, catching me in the middle of the act, and I shrug.
“You’ve changed. I was merely taking in the differences. Not sure I like them,” I lie. Because the truth would be worse, and I’m not about to give her that kind of power again.
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Like I give a fuck what your opinion is. And stop looking at me. It’s creepy.”
I raise my brow. “You wish I were so obsessed that I would stare at you all the time.”
Her eyes narrow, and I sense nothing but loathing. “No. I don’t actually. I know that may be a shock to you, but I haven’t cared what you think, do, or desire for a very long time. Don’t fool yourself that I’m here for anything but to remain alive.”
“Well, if someone hadn’t shot Igor Dragunovik, we wouldn’t be here at all.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I know it’s a low shot. It isn’t her fault, and had she not acted with lightning speed, I’d be dead. But hurting her feels easier than admitting I owe her my life.
“Don’t make me regret killing him any more than I do already. Being stuck here with you… Well, I’m not sure what’s worse, you being dead, or alive sitting in front of me.”
“Ohh, that’s hostile.” I chuckle, but I can’t deny a part of me hates that what we once had together has degraded to such a low point.
But she’s a liar, a woman who killed our child at the whim of her family’s hatred of mine.
Not telling me any of it until after the fact.
Before I could promise to protect her. To marry her and damn her family and their thoughts on the matter.
To raise our baby together. The memory hits like a punch to the gut, blunt and unwelcome, and I shove it down before it can take root.
But it’s too late for regrets. That ship sailed long ago.
The flight attendant comes down the aisle and stops at our seats. “We’ll be landing in twenty minutes, Mr. Moretti. Miss Romero,” she says. “Ensure your seatbelts are fastened, thank you.”
I smile. “Thank you, Jane. It’s been a pleasant flight.” Jane blushes and looks me up and down before moving off toward the back of the plane.
I watch her walk away, enjoying the sight of her hips in her skirt. It’s easier to focus on something simple, something uncomplicated, than the woman sitting across from me.
“You’re unbelievable. Please stop drooling over your staff, you creep.”
I meet Isabella’s eyes. “Jealous much?”
“Not jealous, just sick of men like you slobbering all over women that are far too good for you.”
“You used to love me slobbering all over you.”
“Urgh, please, you’ll turn me off my dinner.” She looks back out the window, dismissing me.
I want to piss her off, hurt her as much as she hurt me. I unlock my belt and stand. “I’ll see you when we land.”
She looks up at me in surprise, and I know she’s wondering if I’m about to do exactly what it looks like. I can’t back out now, so I walk to the rear of the plane and into the bedroom, where Jane is tidying the bed and clearing away the amenities we used during the flight.
I close the door and lean against it. Jane is married, happily so, and the look of alarm that crosses her face shames me.
I gesture for her to go to the bathroom before I close us both in the room.
“I’m sorry, Jane. I don’t mean to do anything to you.
I just need to piss off Isabella. I hope you don’t mind.
” Even saying it out loud makes me feel like a bastard, not to mention an idiot, but I don’t stop myself.
“Pissing off a Romero?” she questions, amusement lighting her eyes. “Not at all. Would you care for me to make some noise? I would if it would help.”
I shake my head, not wanting her to degrade herself to do something like that. “No, us having a little chat for five minutes will be enough to piss her off. Or not, either way, it’ll just make her hate me more. Which is good, because I can’t stand her.” The words feel hollow, even as I say them.
Jane grins and goes about cleaning up the bathroom. “I’ll be staying with you both, acting as your housekeeper. Did you know?”
“Yes, Lucien stated before we left. Thank you for taking the time to stay. I know you have a husband in New York.”
“He doesn’t mind. He certainly doesn’t mind the pay I bring home when I do jobs like this one.”
“Yes, it’s unfortunate we have to be here at all.”
“Could be worse, Anthony. You could be going to Reno or someplace.”
I laugh. “True. The location is tolerable, you’re right.” I lean against the basin and try to stay out of the way. I kick my heels in the room before I feel the plane start to descend. “I'd better go back. Thanks for being a sport.”
“Anything for a Moretti.”
I head back to my chair and sit with a contented sigh.
For show, I adjust the buttons on my pants and secure my seatbelt.
I look up and meet Isabella’s eyes. The hatred burning in her green regard shames me, and just to piss her off a little more, I wink.
“Why so glum, Bells?” I ask, using the nickname I used to call her by.
“Fucking your staff now? Why doesn’t that surprise me?” She shakes her head just as Jane passes us, and I catch Isabella glaring at her back as she takes her seat for landing.
I lick my lips and grin. “I’ll fuck anything I want, including you, if you need that itch scratched.
It’s just sex. It doesn’t mean anything.
” I glare at her then, throwing back the words her brother spat at me the day I found out she left.
Of what she’d done. The bitterness laces every word, thick and suffocating.
“You’re such a piece of shit. I should have let Igor shoot you. In fact, perhaps I ought to have visited the Dragunoviks instead of the Morettis and aligned my family with them instead. To think I saved your ass. What a fucking waste.”
I swallow a barrage of words I want to say.
To throw at her. Hurt her. Instead, I grin and pretend I don’t care what she says or thinks.
She’s just pissed we’re in this predicament, and it was her fault.
Deep down, she knows that better than anyone.
“You can still try to change your allegiance. Not sure how successful you’ll be. ”
“You know I can’t do that now.”
“Well, at least you can admit to that truth when needed.” The plane tips as it’s approaching the runway. I look out the window and watch as the plane comes in to land on our private runway. The wheels touch down, and I grin. “Home sweet home, darling Bells. For the next few weeks, in any case.”
“Don’t call me Bells ever again. You lost that right years ago, and you’ll not get it back.”
I shrug and stand as the plane taxis to the small terminal Lucien had built.
“You forget, Isabella,” I say, doing as she asked even though I don’t want to.
I want to fuck her off, again and again.
“I don’t want that right back. Never again, either, so at least with that, we have common ground.
I’ll see you back at the house. Let Jane know if you need anything. ”
I walk to the front of the plane and wait for Jane to open the door before disembarking.
I’m pleased to see two cars waiting. To spend any more time with Isabella would be torture, and I need a moment away from her.
Space to breathe. Space to think. Space to forget the way she still gets under my skin.
I don’t look back. I don’t check to see how far behind me she is. I don’t give a fuck. Even if every instinct in me wants to and knows that for the lie it is.