JESSICA
The entirety of my day was one confusing loophole after another. I may have slept an hour and got so fed up with drunk overthinking that I ended up leaving the house before any coffee shop opened. I don't know if I was just disciplining myself for giving into lust last night or if I really had the motivation to walk to the Mangione’s to fetch the boss’s usual in the pouring rain. Of course, this time, I at least came prepared with a raincoat and umbrella.
As if my throbbing headache wasn’t enough to set my day on edge, I got non-stop calls from Agent Fine since leaving the house, and every time I let it ring to voicemail. I don't have the mental capacity or the emotional bandwidth to recount the events of last night to the FBI, who no doubt knows I spent a large portion of my evening at the San Giovanni Penthouse.
Fucking shit show disaster.
The rest of the morning was even more confusing than the endless cycle of spiraling thoughts I had throughout the night. The boss was acting strange. Which means God didn’t answer my prayer, and my magic forget-fingers didn’t work. His attitude could only mean one thing. He must remember our night, and now he plans to mock me till the day I quit or get fired. There’s really only one option for me now. I’ll have to find a new job to give me some semblance of control and save myself from further self-loathing.
I was kind of relieved when he told me he was going to Rome this morning. Getting some distance would help me move forward, so maybe I wouldn’t have to leave my job. Just as I was searching through the contacts on my phone to call Vince’s pilot, my phone began to ring, and to my horror, I accidentally answered it.
“Jessica? It's Agent Fine.” I can tell even without placing the phone to my ear. I’m stunned beyond moving for a minute, but eventually, I raise my phone to my ear after he’s said my name a few times.
“Hey.” I exaggerated like he was an old friend, when quite frankly, I couldn't care less about him.
“Where have you been all morning? I’ve been trying to reach you.” He put on this stupid stern voice.
“Sorry about that. It’s been a little crazy. Vince is gearing up to leave for a trip.”
“Vince?”
“Um… Yeah, ya know… the person I’m meant to–”
“No, I reiterated what you said to understand why you didn't say ‘Vince and I.’” I clicked my pen, trying not to go straight for the defense.
“It’s a family thing, I can’t impose.”
“Um, I think you can. Actually, you should. It’s a part of the deal. Especially because it involves family. And according to my team, Vincenzo’s little brother was spotted speaking to a deeply involved Mafia affiliate just last night. It could be connected. You’ve got to go on that trip.”
“I can’t–”
“Do I need to remind you that you don’t have a choice? I’m still waiting for an update from last night. Or have you forgotten that you work for us now?” I shifted my jaw angrily.
“How could I forget that the government is blackmailing me into doing their dirty work?”
“You're at the mercy of the law right now. I’m doing you a favor. So do one for me and convince him to take you along. Or else.” The phone hung up before I could snap back. I'm glad because my headache was back and I needed a drink if I was going to do anything else. I took my lunch break immediately and headed down to the bar, getting a mimosa (or two) before eating a salad by the window facing the street. It’s all about balance.
It’s still drizzling rain outside the plane where I’m sitting now. When I think about flying in this weather, it makes me entirely too anxious. But there’s nothing I can do about it because I would really be uncomfortable being on a plane in any weather.
I never liked planes,not after many of my night terrors were riddled with them falling out of the sky. Though the feeling of dropping to my death persisted, I wouldn’t be able to wake until the plane had crashed to the ground. I could focus on nothing else but the feeling of pure terror while the plane began to take off.
I did notice, however, the flight attendant unsuccessfully flirting with Vince. She’s been snippy ever since he rejected her. I don’t think he always sees the weight of his pull on people. He definitely knows he’s attractive, but he doesn’t find the blonde model of a flight attendant remotely alluring for some reason. I don’t have much time to give it another thought because the plane is beginning to jostle around as it adjusts for takeoff.
“Ms. Lee?” Vince breaks my anxious observation, and I can’t help but glance at him. He is absolutely gorgeous as always. Yep. Definitely have to find a new job.
“What’s wrong?” He crouches in front of me and gently runs his thumb down my face before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His hand rests on my knee, and I tense, holding my breath in an effort to withhold any attraction I might have for him. He really needs to stop teasing me like this. It’s getting too difficult to tell what's real or simply just a game to him.
“You should sit down.” I try to sound cold, but it comes out just as meek as my countenance has been all day. I’m certainly not fragile, and I don’t train every day of the week just to cower down in the face of a challenge. His hand begins to slide up my thigh, and I feel my heartbeat pulsing where I want his fingers to reach.
“You should sit down here.” He looks to his knees, and I don’t have to force the irritation that takes over my face as I glare at him, unamused. He grins back seductively, and I hate how much it makes me want him. I can’t have this happen again. The best way to end whatever this is, is to stop it completely. I drop my hand over his, through my skirt, just before he reaches too far for me to deny him.
A laugh escapes, and I think I might be losing it now because I’m smiling? “Stop,” I say aloud to both of us. His hand finds its way even further and curls around the hem of my thong. I do nothing, just watch him in disbelief. His finger brushes over my aroused clit, and for a moment, I’m too shocked to move.
Just as I am moments away from making another huge mistake and giving in to what I know he wants, the flight attendant is yelling for him to take his seat, so we can lift off. He looks instantly annoyed, but the thought of his safety being at risk makes my stomach do flips, and it’s probably showing on my face.
When he looks back at me, his expression changes, and he crosses back to his seat just as the plane reaches its top speed. Our climb into the sky is rough and choppy. I grit my teeth and dig my nails into the armrests, tensing my abs, so I won’t feel the dips.
I know Vince is looking at me, watching like I’m some movie. He must find my fear comical, and I become more annoyed the longer I feel him stare.