Chapter 31: Chapter 31

ARIA

“Welcome aboard, Mr. Abrams, Ms. James. Champagne?”

A woman in a dark-blue uniform offers us a glass of champagne from a small tray as we board a sleek, private jet.

“My name is Karina, and I’ll be taking care of you on this flight,” she says as I take a glass. “Would you like a tour before we leave?”

Jett looks at me, but I shake my head. He turns back to her.

“No, thank you, Karina. We’ll just take our seats,” he says as he presses his hand to the small of my back. Karina nods and gestures for us to move into the cabin.

The jet is small but incredibly luxurious, with large, soft chairs on either side of tables that are so shiny you could use them as mirrors.

Jett and I take seats across from each other and buckle in. I down the rest of my champagne and then tap my fingers on the table as the staff bustle all around us.

Jett eyes me suspiciously.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I, uh, haven’t flown much,” I say.

He lifts an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah, I haven’t really had the funds to travel,” I say as I feel my cheeks heat.

“Well, I’ll have to make this extra special, then,” he says with a small smirk.

I shake my head. “No, really, I’m grateful to be here. The trip alone will be super special to me,” I say.

“Speaking of…” I nibble on my lip. “I want you to know…you don’t have to spend loads on me and constantly try to make things special. Like, I can’t financially reciprocate, and I don’t want you to think I need all this stuff to be happy.”

Jett regards me carefully, his signature smirk tucked in the corners of his lips.

“Aria,” he says finally, “there is one reason and one reason only that I do or buy anything for you.” He leans forward on his elbows, looking up at me through his eyelashes. “Because I want to. I don’t expect you to reciprocate with anything except your time.”

He reaches over and places a strong hand on my mine, sending jolts of electricity up my arm to my chest.

“I just want you, and I like to show you how much I want you. Never feel guilty for that. Okay?”

I smile and nod. “Okay,” I say.

For several more minutes, we sit quietly as the staff prepares for takeoff and, before I know it, we’re in the air.

As soon as I feel the knots in my stomach loosen and the plane reaches altitude, I pull my laptop out and open it.

“Okay, Darren Barstow wants to meet with you regarding the expansion of the rideshare app. Do you have time next Thursday?”

Jett chuckles, and I look up at him from my laptop.

“What?” I ask.

“Do I, or do I not, have an assistant named Calvin?” he asks with slithery sarcasm.

I click my tongue. “You do. I just—”

“Aria.”

The sharp tone of my name silences me. I look at him with both eyebrows raised.

“You are not Calvin,” he says, as if I didn’t know this. “How is he ever going to learn if you don’t give him a chance?”

“He just started three weeks ago,” I say. “I just want to ensure that he’s successful.”

“You can’t keep doing two jobs,” he says. “And we’re going to be on vacation next Thursday.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. This is the part of being in a relationship with Jett that I’m struggling with the most lately: balancing work Jett and…not work Jett.

“Fine. Two Thursdays from tomorrow then,” I say. “And you have a meeting with your accountants on Monday. We can take a vacation break to keep that,” I say, hoping my assertiveness will dissuade whatever argument he’s ready to fire back with.

“Can’t do it,” he says, looking out the window.

“Why not?” I ask, taking a sip of water.

“I’ll be eating your pussy all day Monday.”

I immediately start coughing profusely as I suck water down the wrong tube. I feel my face flush as I look around to make sure no one heard.

“Jett! What is the matter with you?” I hiss, though I have to fight to keep my lips from turning up.

He lifts and lowers a shoulder. “I can’t help that your body is ridiculously addictive,” he says with a smirk. “And that I find you adorable when you blush.”

“You said,” I say in a low, dangerous tone, “that we could work from Italy so that we can keep things going. ~You promised~.”

He nods. “You’re right. I’ll make you a deal,” he says, leaning forward over the table. “We can work two days a week over the next fourteen days, and—you—can pick the days.”

I fold my arms. “And in return?”

He gives me a devilish grin. “You have to be naked the whole time.”

I smirk and shake my head. “You’re really something,” I say. “How would we get any work done?”

“All right, all right, you have a point,” he says. “But trust me when I tell you, you won’t want to work in Italy.”

“Right,” I say. “So, why Italy? Obviously, you’ve been there before.”

“It’s the whole package. The food, the ocean, the weather, the wine. It’s like being under a spell. That’s the closest I can come to explaining it.”

“It sounds amazing. And I take it you still aren’t going to give me any hints as to our itinerary?”

Jett gives me another little smirk. “Unfortunately, no. Other than meeting up with my mom, which will probably not be the most enjoyable part of the trip.” He laughs.

“Is she excited to see you?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I think so. She’ll be bringing her new…boyfriend? I guess that’s what he is. So, that should be interesting,” he says, the smile falling from his face.

“Is this the first person she’s dated since your father passed?”

“No, but it’s the first one she’s serious enough about to introduce me to,” he says. “I’m happy for her—it’s what any of us want, to find someone to share our life with—but I’ll always be extra skeptical of new people and their motives.”

I nod. “I suppose that comes with the territory,” I say. “What was your father like?”

Jett thinks for a moment, his forefinger resting underneath his lips.

“He was both strict and kind, hard and open. He was a bit of an anomaly that way. I craved his attention, but he always held back at least a little,” he says, his voice tinged with sadness.

I’ve learned so much about Jett since I first walked into his office three months ago. He has a raw natural talent for figuring people out, whether they want him to or not, and when he wants something, nothing will stop him from getting it.

Most would see this as a skill, and it is, but I also see it as a side effect of a harsh upbringing by two people who used their love as currency.

For the rest of the flight, I manage to shift our focus back to our work until Karina mentions that we’re about to begin our descent into Rome and that we should prepare.

After landing, we step off the flight to a balmy June evening in Rome, Italy.

A gentle breeze hits my face, and I take a deep breath as Jett’s hand guides me to a small building, where we’re meant to go through customs.

After answering some questions and having our passports stamped, we get into a sleek, black town car. Jett leans forward in his seat and speaks to the driver.

“Si prega di prendere la strada panoramica per l’hotel,” he says. My eyes widen.

The driver nods and begins driving as I turn to Jett.

“You speak Italian?”

“Si. Just a little, though,” he says, smiling down at me. “We’re taking the long way to the hotel so you can see some of the sights. Is that okay?”

“Lovely,” I say as I lean into Jett, who slides one arm around me and, with the other, points out landmarks and places of note.

We check into a beautiful hotel, where we’re shown to an incredible suite with a gorgeous terrace that overlooks the street we’re staying on as well as the ancient city beyond.

Suddenly, the weight of the day settles on me, and I’m exhausted.

As I’m looking out from the terrace, soaking up the sunset, Jett comes out and hands me a latte. I look down at the hot cup and saucer in my hands, then back at him.

“A latte? This isn’t really the type of drink I had in mind,” I say.

“I know, but the later we stay up tonight, the better,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if we fall asleep now, we’ll wake up around three a.m. local time, and we’ll struggle to regulate our internal clocks for a few more days. If we stay up late, we’ll wake up later, and we should be close to our normal schedule by tomorrow evening.”

“Huh, I didn’t know that,” I say. “Good tip.”

Since we ate on the plane, Jett orders us some small snacks and fresh fruit to nibble on as we spend the evening laughing and talking on the terrace. At around eleven p.m., when I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, he finally lets me go to bed.

The next day, we wake up to a fresh, delicious breakfast, then I ask Jett what I should wear for the day, since he won’t tell me anything about our itinerary.

He tells me to wear something comfortable, then takes me down to the fancy day spa at the hotel. He’s booked an entire spa day for both of us to help freshen us up and put us in relaxation mode.

I get a massage, facial, manicure, pedicure, mud bath, and finish in the sauna.

That evening, we have dinner at a local Italian restaurant and take a walk through the city. It feels so refreshing to walk down a busy sidewalk in such a vibrant city without paparazzi and camera phones following us the whole way.

Despite the relaxing day and the long sleep, I have to try to stay up late again, and we get into bed around 9 p.m. local time.

The next day, we have a quick breakfast on the terrace before we pack up and are loaded into another town car. We do a little sightseeing again before we’re brought to a large marina.

As I step out into the bright sun, Jett starts moving us out onto the dock.

“Where are we going now?”

“To our main accommodations,” Jett says as he points to a giant yacht at the end of the dock.

I look at him, stunned. “You have a yacht?”

Jett laughs. “No, no. I borrowed it from George Clooney,” he says.

“Oh my god,” I mutter as we approach.

There are at least fifteen crew members standing perfectly still on the deck, smiling at us as we approach. All of them have their hands folded in front of them, with the exception of a brunette woman holding a tray of champagne flutes filled to the brim.

The yacht is huge, stretching from one end of the dock to the other, with two decks on each side.

As we approach, Jett helps me onto the metal walkway so I step onto the deck first. The captain and the woman with the tray of drinks move forward.

“Mr. Abrams, it’s a pleasure to have you aboard,” the captain says. “My name is Luca, I’m your captain, and this is our chief steward, Angelica. If you would be so kind as to remove your shoes and place them in the basket over there, it keeps the teak floors clean.”

Angelica moves forward and offers us a drink after I leave my shoes in the basket, while Jett and Luca shake hands and talk about our itinerary and the weather, which sounds to be mainly favorable for our charter around Italy and up to Venice.

“Miss? Would you care for a tour?” Angelica asks.

“Oh, sure, thank you,” I say.

Angelica gives me a tour of the large vessel, which features several decks, salons (which is a fancy word for indoor lounge area), a bar, a theater room, a jacuzzi, and our huge master suite.

They bring my suitcase in and ask if I need it to be unpacked or if I need anything ironed. I laugh and tell them I can take care of it.

I decide to change into shorts and a flowy top before heading up to the sun deck. There, I ask Angelica where the kitchen is so I can make myself something to eat.

She blinks at me like I’ve asked what her address is.

“Er, the galley? Do you need something?”

“Oh, I was just going to find myself a snack.”

She smiles a perfectly white smile. “The chef can prepare you anything you’d like, Ms. James. What can I get you?”

“Oh, uh, are you sure? I don’t want to bother them,” I say.

“It’s no trouble. We’re here for you,” she says.

My insides squirm. All of these people are literally here on a yacht just to serve us on our vacation. It feels weird and exciting and very, very privileged.

Out on the sun deck aft, I watch the large vessel I’m on slowly pull away from the dock and meander out into the Tyrrhenian Sea.

The coastline is dotted with stucco buildings and colorful houses, and hills rise up behind them. Even though it’s warming up, the air smells fresh and wide, like I can finally breathe deeply.

“Enjoying yourself?” Jett comes out with a charcuterie board; a stewardess behind him brings out a pitcher of lemon water and two glasses and places them on the table before swiftly leaving. Jett sets the board down and sits next to me.

“I am, I really am,” I say. “Wow, she let you carry the charcuterie board, huh? She wouldn’t even tell me where the kitchen is.”

Jett laughs. “I went to ask her to make one, but she was already on it,” he says as he grabs an olive and pops it into his mouth.

“So, we’re traveling all the way around Italy in this thing?” I ask as I finish my champagne and pour some water.

Jett smiles as he slides an arm around me.

“Yep, with some pit stops at Naples and Bari,” he says.

“Sounds like a dream,” I say.

“Except you aren’t dreaming. This is real life—our life—and we’re just getting started,” Jett says.

I laugh and snuggle into him as the Italian coastline drifts by us, my laptop off and untouched beside me.