THIRTY-TWO
W aking up the next morning to catch a plane. Me? Pregnant and exhausted. Not a chance. I'm not looking forward to this trip. More so because Damon will be in outfit territory, and he will be in danger.
"Let me get that." Sam smiles as he takes my suitcase and shoves it into the trunk of Damon's car. Smiling, I turn around in search of Damon, but he's nowhere.
Turning around, I look around the area. "Don't eat out the entire time we're gone. Damien can make macaroni. Don't forget to tell the coach where I am. Remember that list." Damon's voice rings through the air as he walks out the front door to the condo.
"Got it." Ace smirks as he follows Damon out the door. But the moment he sees me, his eyes cloud with literal destruction—not that I blame him. Damon told me he's the making of a made man now.
My mind gets yanked out of its trance when I hear Sam's voice. "I know you're going to a funeral, but try to have some fun." Sam winked at us. Rolling my eyes, I wrap my arms around Sam, pulling him in for a hug.
"Come back in one piece, and take care of my munchkin." He smiles, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I'm surprised that it didn't cause bloodshed, but Damon must let it go this time around.
Damon's eyes narrow on Sam, his lip curled in the making of a snarl. "I will." I return the smile as Ace shoves his hands into his pockets and watches me. His eyes still scream murder when he watches me.
Damien's tall frame shows up in front of me and he grins. "Don't get my brother killed, Aussie." He smiles, wrapping his giant frame around me in a hug.
"I can handle Harley," I reply with a frown.
Damien yanks Sam by his shirt collar as he tries to climb into the trunk of the car. "Delgado, we have shit to do. You're staying here," he growls. I hear Sam's protests as Damien man handles him over to Ace.
My eyes lock with Ace's as he still stands watching me with dark hooded eyes, his hands shoved into his pockets. Nobody really knows his story. Well, I don't, and I'm not sure if the others do.
Nobody knows anything about his past because he won't talk. He gives me a nod before he grabs Sam by his shirt and drags his ass back inside the condo.
He doesn't like me and hasn't since he was told every secret, and I'm sure he thinks I'm destroying Damon's life by being in it. He doesn't give me a second glance, let alone acknowledge my existence. "Come on, baby. We have a plane to catch," Damon calls as he slides into the driver's seat.
I take a second glance, my eyes back on the condo quickly. My eyes catch Ace's as he watches us from the window. He gives me the creeps, if I'm being honest. He's going to be scary with a gun strapped to his hip.
"Hanna!" Damon calls, blaring the horn.
I avert my eyes before climbing into the passenger seat and closing the door behind me. "Does he not like me?" I voice my concern to Damon as he pulls the car out of the driveway, heading toward the airport.
His eyes flash toward me. "Who?" he asks, raising a brow as he turns around a corner.
"Ace," I mutter, casting a glance out the window.
Damon turns to me and watches me closely before he turns onto the highway. "Ace is complicated. Nothing against you. I don't know why, nobody does, but that would probably be the issue, that and the outfit. But I don't believe he dislikes you or hates you," he replies as we drive down the highway.
Why would he be complicated? My mind turns on a spindle as I gaze out the window. Something awful must have happened for him to have an issue. But I would never ask him that question or ask him why.
I must have fallen asleep because when I open my eyes, Damon is hovering over me, pressing gentle kisses to my cheeks. "We're here. The plane awaits," he whispers into my hair. Yawning, I unbuckle my seatbelt and climb out of the car.
Sauntering to the back of the car to grab my suitcase, Damon grips my hand as we head toward the private jet, keeping me close to him. "Private jet? Why didn’t we take this to Chicago when you dragged me there at the beginning of the year?" I stare at him.
Damon glances back at me, his lips turning into a grin. "You didn’t know about the mafia, Cinderella. I didn’t want to raise questions about my life when I wasn’t planning on telling you anything back then."
It makes sense, I guess. I would have had big questions if we got on this plane for a trip to Chicago. Once we drop off our baggage with the pilots, we stop to let me stare at the massive jet. It's fucking huge.
"Thought it would be faster to use my family jet." Damon kisses my head, gripping my hand as we walk up the steps into the plane. I haven't been on a plane since I was seventeen. Granted, I haven't left Princeton since I was seventeen.
I never had interests in going on a plane, so being twenty, I haven't been on a plane for three years. I mean, I loved my dad, I just didn't want to be on a plane. Sliding into a seat, I rest my head against Damon's shoulder as we wait for the jet to get ready for take-off.
"Heading for the runway, Mr. Saint," the flight attendant mutters as she stops next to us. Fucking finally. I already feel nauseous and tired, and I just want to sleep the entire plane ride. That would do me justice.
The flight attendant lingers, swaying her hips as she stares at Damon expectantly. My lips turn up in a scowl as I notice her flirty attitude. "Would you like me to help you with anything else?" she asks him, completely ignoring me.
Damon ignores her, his gaze fixed on his phone with a bunch of messages from his mother. "No, he's fine and while you're at it, how about you go sit your arse in your designated seat before I stand up and punch you in your fake nose," I snap.
She disappears faster than a fucking condom after sex, but doesn't leave until she throws me a glare over her shoulder.
Damon wraps his arm around me and smirks, pressing his lips to my head. "You're quite hot when you're tearing into some woman." I roll my eyes, punching his arm in annoyance. Yeah, I just have to stake my claim with the entire fucking mafia world.
"Can you find my water?" I whisper, eying Damon. My stomach lurches at the sudden need to throw up anything and everything I have consumed in the last twenty-four hours.
He smiles and digs through my carry-on bag until he pulls out a water bottle. Twisting off the cap, I take a long sip, letting the water slide down my throat, then I hand the water bottle back to Damon. My mind is full of different scenarios of how this trip will go as I flutter my eyes closed, letting sleep take me.