Chapter Eight

He felt warm and familiar. He felt solid and safe. I wanted to cling to his shirt, bury my face in the curve of his neck, and never let go. ~Pintrest~ Ele I was determined to keep my distance from Bruno for the remaining hours of our flight, but that turned pretty hard when he pulled me over to the last seats on the jet hidden away from Dev as if we were conducting a clandestine. I started with two, but now it seems like I get a new one every time I open my eyes in the morning. What did he mean by that? Does it mean he started with two children or two women? Should I ask? But if I do, he would know exactly how I felt about him, so I decided to roll with the punches, no need to borrow trouble when I was a sitting duck; it trouble was bound to find me anyway. He gently pushed me to a seat before taking one opposite me just as we had sat from the beginning. The impact of his touch lingered on my shoulders, a whiff of his perfume stayed with me, so did the feeling of being in his arms again. "Are you planning to look at me any time soon? Preferably right now?" No, I wasn't. I wanted to run back to the bedroom, sleep beside Luca to avoid the conversation that I knew was coming, and I also wanted to stay away from him. Moving my eyes from the small screen beside his head, I rested them on his, slightly giving him a smile that I wished was more humorous than nervous. "That's better, " He chuckled, sitting with one leg across the kneel, both arms stretched out on top of the seat. "Talk to me, " he said as he pulled out the phone on the wall. " What would you like to eat or drink?" my jaw opened, almost to the floor. He laughed a deep sound that I likened to dark chocolate, the special one made by a man down our street when I was a teenager still living with my parents. "I don't know what to eat, but I could have orange juice if they have it, " I mumbled, feeling very intimidated by his wealth. Granted, Freddie is wealthy too, but it never dripped down to me. I was pretty much a housekeeper than a wife, although he liked claiming husbandly duties only when it suited him. I almost gagged at the memories. Bruno nodded, then repeated it to the person on the line and added whiskey. A few seconds later, a beautiful brunette brought our drinks, freshly squeezed juice, I could tell without tasting it. She placed the juice in front of me and a bottle of whisky and glass for him. I noticed her eyes lingered on him, but I thought it was a normal reaction to some women when in his presence. I wasn't one to judge; I felt the urge to stare at him too, mostly when he wasn't looking. He swirled the drink on the glass, one of his long fingers almost touching the brim of the glass. He was looking at me in expectation, but I wasn't sure of what. I narrowed my eyes at him, stopping myself from taking my drink because I could feel my hands trembling. "What?" I snapped at him almost angrily at the way I felt when he looked at me like this. "Stop looking me like that?" I demanded, moving my eyes from his. I wanted to stomp out, but my legs felt as if they had gone to sleep, and my body felt too heavy to be mine. "Like what?" he was flirting with me, the glint on his eyes, the eyebrow lifting, the smile he couldn't hide, and the way he held the glass of whisky to his lips. I discovered I didn't mind Bruno drinking as much as I loathed it when Freddie did, but that was because he was meaner when inebriated than sober. "How am I looking at you, Ele?" "Like I'm food!" I stated, feeling a flush whip my face, and I knew it resembled a tomato. I was almost thirty years old for crying out loud! Why does he make me feel like a teenager, and why do I allow him to? "Delicious food or bland, before you answer that, " he lifted his hand as if to stop me from speaking."I should tell you I like delicious food, " I glared at him " I wasn't going to answer, " I told him, still frowning, but my heart tripping over itself over the excitement of being found attractive even without hair. "Really?" I was looking forward to your answer, he said, feigning a disappointed tone. I swore not to be sucked into his web of throaty chuckles, beautiful sparkling eyes soo much like my son's, and flirty comments. I didn't need any of it! I concluded. Liar! A tiny voice said. Fine, I was lying. I loved being the center of his attention. The way he looked at me as if he wanted to take off my garb of polyester or that secret smile he had that made me afraid he might know more about me than I thought. "How old is Luca?" "Umh.. almost four," I began, falling over my words instead of just giving him a straight answer. "When is his birthday?" "W-what?" I stammered, nervously touching my beanie. "October 22nd," I breathed out, signing as if I had run a mile. What the hell was wrong with me? "That makes him about a month older than Lia, " My heart almost stopped trying to debate whether to pretend I didn't hear it or just man up and ask him who Lia was. I decided choosing to bury my head in the sand wasn't ideal for a woman my age or for a mother, "Who is Lia?" Was that my voice? It sounded defeated, but I was an expert at it; I had needed to be timid, vulnerable to survive with Freddie. The tone of it disgusted me because somehow, Bruno made me want to live to my potential, and I didn't want him to be acquainted with that version of me. I longed to argue with him, laugh with him, fight with him, and win all our fights. Then it hit me that I might never have what I wanted. That realization brought with it a wave of sadness that almost knocked me off my seat. Suddenly I wanted to cry, for loving a man who wasn't mine, for getting him mixed in my business, and for my son, who I knew was falling in love with him too. "Please look at me, " I heard him say, my body tingled at the tone of his voice. It sounded as if he was begging me or needed my eyes on his; whatever it was, it felt like he was wooing me. I have never had that. "Im sorry, I got lost in my thoughts for a while, " he nodded, reaching out for my hand, " You're not afraid of Freddie, are you?" I vehemently shook my head, feeling the warmth of his hand slip through mine. "Because you shouldn't, I'll take care of him." I glanced at me, letting him see how much I trusted he would. "Good girl, " he said, giving me a careless smile. It gave me a glimpse of what kind of a teenager he might have been—a troublemaker, a flirt, and probably a serial dater. I wanted to know everything about him, and I hoped to learn a substantial amount by the end of our flight. "Where did you go to when you first ran away from home?" I asked, purposely avoiding the Lia conversation even after prepping myself for it. "That is too heavy a conversation to be held over the air, plus I would need more than this whisky to have it," he replied, pouring the last of his whisky on the glass, his laughter sounding hollow. I noticed he wasn't drunk even after draining a whole bottle of whiskey. I couldn't figure out whether that was a good thing or bad. "Im sorry, " I said with remorse. It wasn't in my place to ask. "Don't be; I'm curious about your life with Freddie as well." I recoiled at that, wishing that I would never have to talk to him about it. "I won't ask, " he said, sounding glum, which I didn't understand."Why?" I asked, not because I wanted to pour my guts out about living with Freddie but because I wanted to know why he shouldn't ask. "Because I'm sure it was hell, no need to rehash it, " he replied, and I made a mistake of looking up at him to find such warmth in his eyes I almost drowned in them. Yeah, it was hell. I thought, becoming pricklingly aware of his body slumping next to me. His chest felt large behind me; his breath on my neck felt tantalizing; his whole body seemed to envelop my whole being. "Please stop, " I whispered in a trembling voice, feeling flustered and uncomfortable yet unable to pull out of his arm. "Why?" I can't believe he asked me that! Because you have a wife, you gigantic, selfish doofus! I wanted to yell, but then he leaned over me until I felt his lips on the back of my neck with his right-hand wrapping around my waist. I suppressed a moan, but I let out a slight sign when I felt his lips, and then I let out a moan when he started skimming my neck with his lips. I couldn't help it. He chuckled; my ears heard, but my neck felt it. The combination of it almost brought me undone. Oh, God! This was getting out of control. I thought, elbowing him because my mouth could only make sounds but no words. "I want to do things to you, " he began, grabbing and turning me to face him in one sure movement. His face was inscrutable, but his eyes shone with lust; I knew that look; he wanted me. It was bittersweet. It felt as if I was in the middle of a storm fighting to survive, and afraid I might drown in it. "You fit perfectly with me, " I had become paralyzed at the emotions I felt sitting while half his body was almost sprawled on top of me. I found myself wishing I could have the experience of having him entirely on top of me. I flushed when he said it and of the thought that followed, hiding my face against him. I heard him sign comfortably when I placed my cheek against his, his breathing becoming rapid, and his forehead dropped on my shoulder. "Please tell me you'll let your hair grow out," he pleaded, looking at me from heavy-lidded eyes. I was in heaven and hell at the same time, I thought, as I nodded in agreement, my own eyes telling him how much I wanted him too. It was an involuntary action, one that I told myself I needed to stop. "If you let me, I want to kiss your head, your eyes, " he kissed my eyes without waiting for an answer, "your nose and your lips, " he placed his lips on my nose, his eyes closed, but he didn't kiss my lips. Moving my face slightly just before he kissed my lips, I placed my hand on his upper arm." You forgot to tell me about Lia, " his eyes flickered, his gaze settling on mine as if he was trying to fill in some blanks, the puzzled look showing he didn't understand why I stopped the kiss. Because I don't want to regret it, loving you from afar will be more than I can handle. "Lia is Luca's age, " he said, pulling me up to sit comfortably next to him. I nodded, waiting both patiently and in trepidation. "She is beautiful, has her mother's hair and her father's eyes." "What?" I asked in confusion. Why would he speak of her in the third person? Wasnt she his daughter? He laughed in amusement as if he found my confusion funny. "Remember, when I said I started with two family members?" I nodded. "Her father is one of them." I felt relief wash through me, letting out a breath I wasn't sure I was holding. "Oh, " I managed to say. "What did you think I meant?" I shrugged, righting up my beanie because it had gone askew when he was all over me. "Tesoro, " that endearment touched both my heart and soul. I could totally get used to this. "I thought you meant two women, maybe a wife and a mistress." His shocked expression was so comical I burst out laughing, "a wife and mistress, your imaginations are wild, Tesoro." There it was again, the endearment.