LONDON'S POINT OF VIEW
Crewe had his own plane.
I was surprised, even though I shouldn't have been.
Crewe and his men loaded everything into the cargo hold, then climbed aboard and took their seats. The men occupied the back of the plane, their weapons hidden under their jackets even though we were at an international airport.
Ariel was the only member of the group sitting in the front with Crewe, next to me.
She settled into a leather chair by the window and opened her tablet. She took out her stylus and got to work, clearly already knowing the Wi-Fi password. Crewe sat across the aisle and motioned to the seat by the window for me.
I sat down and fastened my seatbelt.
The flight attendant approached to serve us drinks just as the engines began to roar. The private jet wasn't as large as a commercial airliner, but it was much bigger than the biplanes used for crop dusting. It was mid-sized—and obviously very expensive.
Crewe ordered scotch, Ariel ordered wine, and I had water. I couldn't keep up with them when it came to alcohol. After a few glasses of wine, my skin would flush and my inhibitions would fly away.
Crewe cast a discreet glance at me.
"Are you okay?"
The plane taxied slowly toward the runway. It wasn't the runway used by airliners, as takeoff times were highly regulated. Anxiety weighed heavily in my stomach, as if I had swallowed a brick.
"I'm fine."
Crewe stared at me as if he didn't believe me.
"What's wrong?"
I didn't want to admit it out loud and appear weak, but Crewe wouldn't let me go until he got what he wanted.
"The thought of flying makes me a little nervous..."
Instead of mocking me, he tried to reassure me.
"The pilot is excellent, as is the rest of the crew. This plane is only a few years old. Everything is in perfect condition. Have a glass of wine and relax."
"Okay."
I opened the shade and looked out the window, feeling my stomach twist. We hadn't even taken off yet and I was already dizzy.
The plane lined up on the runway and took off. The powerful engines projected us toward the sky at a dizzying angle. We climbed higher and higher, pierced the clouds, and reached a very high altitude.
Crewe read his emails on his phone as if nothing was happening. Ariel did the same.
I forced myself to keep my cool and sank into the seat. I hated showing weakness to anyone, even my friends. That was one of my principles.
We finally leveled off and the plane reached its cruising speed. The constant hum of the air outside the aircraft filled the cabin, along with the sound of the engines on either side of the fuselage.
If it stayed like this until we reached Italy, I could keep my composure. After everything I had been through, my fear of flying was ridiculous. If we crashed now, I wouldn't be a prisoner anymore.
That was the silver lining.
After a sudden jolt, the plane dropped sharply. We fell several dozen feet and my stomach lurched.
"Oh, God."
I gripped the armrest and stifled the scream that instinctively wanted to escape my lips. Adrenaline flooded my blood, and I felt both sick and terrified.
Crewe looked at me, unfazed by the sudden stall of the plane.
I tried to hide my terror by looking out the window, not wanting him to know how uneasy I was. He would have no mercy for me, especially for a reaction he would deem stupid.
To my surprise, he took my hand on the armrest and held it.
"Turbulence is only caused by the mixing of warm and cold air. So when the plane is shaken, it doesn't mean we're going to crash. It's normal, Mignonne."
He put his phone in his pocket and looked at me.
"Okay?"
"Yes..."
He grabbed my chin and turned my head toward him. He had shaved this morning; his face was smooth and clean-shaven. His full, rough mouth was more visible than usual.
"Keep your eyes on me."
I obeyed, because I didn't know what else to do.
"I love Scotland. It has always been home. But there are a few other places in the world where I feel at home, too. Italy is one of them. I like the Tuscan heat, the ripe tomatoes, the wine—even if I don't drink much of it—and the antique charm of that country. Do you know the Colosseum is two thousand years old?"
Crewe was a man of few words, and telling me about his life was not in his nature.
"Are you trying to distract me?"
"Yes. Is it working?"
It was a kind gesture, especially coming from a man who possessed very little kindness.
"Yeah.
"The first time I went to Rome, I was eighteen. We went with friends to blow off some steam. We partied a lot, met beautiful women, and drank more wine than our stomachs could handle. Since then, I've always liked traveling to Italy. But I have to admit, my visits are more discreet now."
I wondered what he looked like at eighteen. That was almost half his age.
"Sounds nice. Finley must have been worried."
"I drove him crazy when I was young. He much prefers me as an adult."
The plane shook, and Ariel sipped her wine as if she didn't notice
.
Crewe continued the conversation.
"We're staying at one of my villas in Tuscany. It's quiet and isolated. You'll like it."
"It will be a big change from Scotland."
"It takes a little time to get used to the heat."
He left his fingers on me, his courage seeping into my veins at the contact of his skin. Seeing him so relaxed reassured me, indicating that there was no immediate danger. It was impossible for a powerful man like Crewe to let a plane crash cost him his life.
"You'll be able to enjoy the sun by the pool while I take care of my business."
"How long are we staying?"
"A week at most. Doing business with the Barsetti brothers is easy enough. Usually, I stay a few extra days because it's a long flight."
The plane was shaking less and less. Finally, it stabilized. The jet glided through the sky, the sound of the air outside being the only indicator that we were flying at tens of thousands of feet.
My hand relaxed in his, and my body finally let go. Despite my scientific studies, the idea of flying above the Earth has always unsettled me. I've always been afraid that an engine would fail, or that the pilot would make a fatal error that would send us to our deaths. I rested my head against the leather cushion and breathed deeply.
Crewe looked at me.
"Do you feel better?"
"I'm relieved the plane stopped shaking."
He pulled his hand away and I felt like I was alone, deprived of his contact. I didn't need him to hold my hand to feel better, but the second he removed it, I missed it. It was nice to have someone to comfort me.
"You don't have to be afraid. Planes are flying across the planet all the time, and there are rarely crashes. And my planes will never crash."
"Stop saying the word crash."
He smiled.
"Sorry, that was a bit tactless."
"It's fine... I know you're trying to help me."
He took his phone out of his pocket and went back to checking his emails.
I closed the shade because I didn't want to see the endless blue. It reminded me of how high we were flying.
"How long is the flight?"
"A while. Try to sleep."
I instinctively leaned against his shoulder to be more comfortable, even though I could have easily reclined my seat. Something about the fabric of his shirt and the warmth of his skin reassured me. I was sleeping with him every night now. He was the silent lullaby that sent me off to dreamland.
He straightened me up, then lifted the armrest so nothing would separate us.
"Lie down on my lap. It will be more comfortable."
He had never been this nice to me. He defended me against Dunbar and Ariel, but he never put my comfort before his own.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. You know how much I like having your thighs near my mouth."
He smiled with that insolent air that had become familiar to me.
I rolled my eyes, then rested my head on his lap. I caught Ariel watching us from her row of seats, probably wondering why Crewe was letting me lie on him. I ignored her and got comfortable.
T
Crewe put an arm around my waist.
"Do you want a blanket?"
"No, I'm fine."
I pulled my knees to my chest because I was a little cold.
Crewe must have guessed I was lying because he turned to Ariel.
"Pass me a blanket, please."
"You're joking, I hope?" she retorted.
I couldn't see Crewe's expression, but he must have given her a threatening look.
"You want to keep your job, don't you?"
Ariel was going to hate me even more. I didn't even know why she hated me so much. It didn't matter if I was lying on his lap. He fucked me every night, so this was actually quite tame.
Ariel got up and opened the overhead bin. She threw a blanket at us, which landed right on my head.
"There you go, Your Highness."
I felt the tension rise like the heat of a fire.
Crewe said nothing, but his silence was threatening in itself. He didn't let anyone talk to him in that tone. There would be consequences later. He probably didn't want to make a scene on a clandestine aircraft with his men in the back of the plane.
Crewe turned his attention back to his phone as if nothing had happened. His jaw was clenched in irritation, but he swallowed his anger. His arm circled my waist—a warm contact that was preferable to the icy air conditioning blowing from the vents.
I didn't think I could sleep while feeling so nervous, but within minutes, my eyelids grew heavy and I closed my eyes. I fell asleep on Crewe's lap, which served as a pillow, feeling curiously good despite everything that made this flight difficult.