CHAPTER FOURTEEN
‘OH, COMEON,’ she groaned, slapping her forehead as the announcement came over the PA.
‘Owing to a technical issue with the landing wheel, Aster Airline flight 251 to London Heathrow has been delayed. We apologise for the inconvenience. Another update will be provided in thirty minutes. Thank you for your patience.’
Olivia ground her teeth together, scanning the departures board, hoping a different airline might be making the same trip to London, so she could book another seat, but there were no other flights for the next two hours.
Resigning herself to her fate, she strode towards the newsagent’s, browsing magazines, looking for something, anything, to distract herself with. But a sense of claustrophobia was clawing at her. Having decided she wanted to leave Rome, that she needed to leave Rome, she found the delay completely unacceptable.
She chose two magazines at random, paid for them without looking at the covers, then found a seat apart from most of the crowd. Rather than reading the magazines, she stared out of the large, heavily tinted windows, at the concourse, watching as passengers disembarked planes directly onto the runway, from skinny staircases, walking in organised lines towards the building. Planes took off, others landed, but after thirty minutes another announcement was made: their plane would be delayed at least another hour.
It was tempting to go to the information desk and ask for more information, but the queue snaked halfway through their seating area, and the staff member there was already looking harried and stressed. Olivia had no interest in adding to her load.
She continued to watch the happenings of the airport, the piercing blue of Rome’s sky making a mockery of her mood.
In her peripheral vision, she was aware of another traveller approaching and she bristled, wanting company like she wanted a hole in the head. She kept her gaze resolutely focused on the window, staring at the sky, actively discouraging any attempt at communication.
‘Do you need a lift, cara?’
Her heart went into overdrive and her head turned towards him in complete shock, his voice jolting something inside her to life. She was too overcome to pretend calm. How grateful she was that her dark glasses were still in place!
‘Luca! What are you doing here?’
‘Did you think I would not move heaven and earth to finish our conversation?’
She stood up to meet his eyes, not liking the height disadvantage of her seated position.
‘We did finish our conversation.’
‘Too abruptly.’
‘What else is there to say?’
He looked around, and in that moment she allowed herself the brief weakness of drinking him in, all suit-clad, six and a half feet of him. The power of his physique took her breath away, as it almost always did.
‘More than I’d care to discuss here,’ he said with a shake of his head, holding out his hand. ‘Come with me.’
She looked at his hand as though it were a bundle of snakes.
‘My jet is fuelled up. I’ll fly you to London. We can speak on the way.’
Her lips parted. The offer of the flight was tempting—but to have her escape route shared with the very man she was running away from?
His eyes darkened as her hesitation became obvious.
‘Fine,’ he ground out. ‘You can take the flight without me.’ He lifted one finger to the air. ‘On one condition.’
‘Another deal?’
‘Yes.’
‘What is it?’
‘Give me ten minutes first. To talk. Privately.’
Privately. A shiver ran down her spine, desire sparking in her belly. She looked away. ‘Okay, that’s fair enough.’ Had she really thought she could avoid this? ‘Where?’
But he took her hand, drawing her with him, away from the crowds, the disgruntled voices, and right back out of the terminal, towards a central concourse, and then across it. Neither of them spoke—not even when he gestured for her to enter a set of timber doors ahead of him.