Matteo sat across from Anastasia on the flight back from Ecuador. She had succumbed to exhaustion and was sleeping on the leather, her hand wrapped around her frame.
Matteo watched her, sipping his whiskey and thinking about Antonio's comments. To him, she was a fragile thing he broke, and he was the only one allowed to hold the pieces. He was going to protect her from the vultures and the tracking anklet was going to help.
He noticed her shivering. He stood up and covered her with a blanket. He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his finger lingering a little longer on her cheek. Like a man who loves his bird but refuses to open the cage.
The jet landed.
"Boss," Nico called, suggesting they exit the jet. Matteo stopped him with a flick of his fingers.
"We wait till she wakes up," he said. Nico nodded and left. After about thirty minutes, Anastasia woke up. Her eyes fell on Matteo, whose eyes were glued to the screen of his laptop.
