Enamoured

by Darling, Giana

  “I’m sure she would be delighted.” Pierre sent me a barely concealed look telling me to pull it together.

  I smiled hesitantly at the gorgeous stranger, aware that I was a mess of clammy skin and melted make-up. “I’m fine really.”

  He nodded curtly, his eyes devoid of any real sympathy. “You will be.”

  Pierre hesitated, his eyes searching my face for reluctance. I smiled at him and took one of his hands between my clammy palms. “Merci beaucoup pour tu m’aides. J’espere que tu passes un bon temps avec ta fille.”

  I was rewarded with broad grin before he hastily collected his things and moved towards the front of the plane. I watched him go instead of focusing on the stranger as he took Pierre’s abandoned seat but after a few moments with his eyes hot on my face, I turned to him uneasily.

  His thick hair was the colour of polished mahogany and curled, overlong, at the base of his neck. My fingers itched to run themselves through the silken mass but instead, I smiled.

  “There really is no need to look after me, Monsieur,” I continued in French. “I am quite well now.”

  I squirmed in my seat when he didn’t immediately reply. “It’s silly really, I’ve been afraid of planes since I was young.”

  “Oh?” He crossed his hands and I noticed that he didn’t wear a watch, that his fingers were long and nimble. The freckles on the backs of those strong hands surprised me and I found them strangely appealing. I wanted badly to dig into the bag before my feet for my sketchpad.

  Because I was uncomfortable, I nodded empathetically. “I was four when we moved to Puglia for a year and I don’t remember the logistics of the move very well but I remember the plane.” I looked at him from the corner of my eye and he nodded encouragingly, his hands steepled in front of his beautifully drawn lips. “It was with some budget airline and the plane itself was barely held together by rusty bolts. I think the captain might have been drunk because we dropped and dipped the whole way through.”

  “Which airline?” His voice was silky and cool, like the brush of a tie against my skin.

  “I don’t remember now.” I frowned at him. “Why?”

  He waved my question out of the air with those deeply blue eyes still intent on my face. “Tell me more.”

  Those are magic words to hear from a man, I think. It unfurls something hidden deep within a woman, something that is habitually scared and insecure. Tell me more. It was somehow intimate to hear those words, even from a stranger, especially from this stranger.

  “My father was in debt so we were basically fleeing.” I shrugged but the sharp ache of terror still resounded in my chest when I thought of my mother’s despair, my brother’s desolation. “Maybe I had caught the flu, or maybe I was scared, but I spent most of the flight losing the contents of my stomach. Needless to say, it wasn’t a pleasant trip. Since then, I’ve travelled a lot, but the feeling never goes away.”

  “Ah, but flying is a pleasure.” He did not smile, and I had the sense he rarely did, but his eyes grew dark with pleasure. “Close your eyes.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  I pressed myself to the back of my chair when he leaned into me slightly in order to reach the button on my armrest. My chair tilted back and I found myself looking up into his lean face, his shoulder still warm against my front.

  “Close your eyes,” he repeated firmly.

  I swallowed twice before doing so. I didn’t know his name, where he came from, anything personal to mark him with. But somehow, it was thrilling. To be in the hands of a perfect stranger, to trust him enough to surrender my sight, to allow him to make even the simplest decision for me.

  So, I hardly flinched when a blanket covered my chilled feet and was pulled up under my chin. His fingers, ridged with slight callous, brushed against the tender skin of my neck as he tucked me in.

  “You are flying,” he said quietly but it felt as though he spoke the words against my ear. “And if you relax, let every muscle loosen, and breathe deeply, there is nothing more soothing than being in the air.”

  Instead, the pit of my stomach coiled and I found myself wishing that I was another kind of person, someone who flirted with handsome strangers, who would lean into that firm mouth and take it without a qualm.

  “We aren’t in the air,” I pointed out. “We are in a machine made out of metal that has no business being in the sky.”

  “Ah, it is the machine that frightens you.” I wondered where he sat, if he remained leaning over me. “Let it be a bird then, a swan.”

  “Okay,” I mumbled, suddenly exhausted. “But only because swans are mean.”

  I smiled at his husky chuckle but fell asleep before he could say anything else.

  * * *

  When I woke up, it was to the delicate tapping of rain against the window and the brisk click of fingers on a keyboard. Deeply rested and disorientated, I moaned and stretched myself across my seat before righting it. Blinking away sleep, I looked up and met the searing eyes of my stranger.

  “You had a good rest,” he noted, and for some reason, I flushed.

  He was even more handsome than before, if that was possible. In the darkening night, his hair was mostly black, kissed red by the artificial overhead lights. He seemed like some creature of the night, something dark and too sexy to be true.

  “Yes, thank you.” We were speaking in English now and I couldn’t remember if we had switched over before I fell asleep. His voice was smooth and cool, perfectly enunciated with just a hint of French charm.

  “We land in twenty minutes.” He watched my surprise and handed me a plastic cup of sparkling liquid. Our fingers brushed as he passed it off and a current of electricity made my grip on the cup shaky. Quickly, he righted it with his other hand and pressed both of my hands to the plastic. “You’ve got it?”

  I nodded and flexed my fingers under his hold but he remained holding the cup, holding me, for a beat too long. He stared at me with a slight frown between his thick brows but I couldn’t begin to discern if it was out of displeasure or surprise. I had never been so attracted to a man in my life, and I wondered if I was imagining the thickening tension between us. My tongue darted out to coat my dry lips and his eyes followed its path intently. Abruptly, his hands were gone and he was sitting back in his seat, his fingers flying on the keyboard of his Blackberry.

  I blinked and slowly sank back into my chair. Obviously, I had misread the signs. I took a sip of the sparkling liquid and discovered with delight that it was Ginger Ale. Sipping it slowly to savour the sweet pop of bubbles on my tongue, I turned my attention to the early evening turning into twilight the colour of a bruise outside my window. The sparkling lights of Los Cabos could already be seen ahead of us and instead of wondering about the intrepid stranger beside me, I focused on my excitement. I had one week of paradise before I met with reality in New York City.

  After five years in Paris and only a handful of visits in that time, I would finally be reunited with my family. The last time we had all lived under the same roof I had been nineteen years old. My twin siblings Cosima and Sebastian had been the first to leave, Cosima when she was seventeen in order to model in Milan and Sebastian months later to England, with Cosima’s money in his pocket and a fierce determination to become an actor. I had lived with my mother and eldest sister Elena after that before journeying to Paris.

  I squeezed my eyes shut and refused to think about those years. It had been nearly five now since I had left our small life in Napoli to attend L’École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. Though I was close to my family, it had been good for me to spend these years apart from them. I was returning home to them a better person than I had been when I had hastily fled and I was both excited and anxious for them to see that.

  “What are you smiling at?”

  His question was faintly brusque, as if he was irritated with me. When I turned to him though, his eyes were on the glowing screen of his phone.

  “I hav
en’t been home in a long time, I’m looking forward to seeing my family again.”

  “Your husband?” he asked tersely.

  I laughed and it felt so delightful after hours of sickness and sleep that I laughed some more. He watched me with twisted lips, as if he wanted to smile but couldn’t understand why. “Was that funny?”

  “Oh, not really.” I leaned forward conspiratorially. “But one needs a boyfriend to get married and I haven’t had one of those in years.”

  “Now, that is funny.” He put his phone back in his pocket and I felt a flash of triumph that he was once more focused on me. “It is incomprehensible to me that you would be single.” His eyes sparkled as he leaned forward, and a lock of that overlong hair fell across his golden forehead. “Tell me, other than your obvious fear of flying, what’s wrong with you?”

  I laughed. “We’re almost in Los Cabos, I don’t have time to list all my flaws.”

  “I have a feeling there aren’t many,” he murmured, and stared at me in that way I was discovering he had, of looking through me and at me all at once. “But perhaps it’s better that you don’t tell me. A woman of mystery,” his voice was low and smooth, so captivating I didn’t register the pilot ready the plane for landing, “is a seductive thing.”

  “You had better tell me about yourself then.” I leaned back in my seat as the plane began its steep descent into the city. “You’re handsome enough already.”

  His loud chuckle surprised both of us. It was husky with disuse and his expression, though inherently beautiful, was almost pained. When the sound tapered off, it left him frowning. “What would you like to know?”

  “Something repellent,” I demanded cheerfully.

  “Repellent? That’s a tall order.” Though normally I was uncomfortable under the eyes of another, those baby blues against my skin invigorated me and I beamed back at him. “When I look at you, I can only think of,” his fingers found a lock of my auburn hair and he rubbed it between his fingers to release the scent, “Lavender and honey.”

  “Well.” I cleared my throat. “Happily, we are talking about you.”

  His grin was wolfish as he leaned back in his seat again. “I make a very good living.”

  “Ah, you’re one of those.” His silver cuff links shone even in the dim light of the descending plane. “That helps, I’m more the starving artist type.”

  “Hardly starving.” His eyes raked over my curves even though I wore a modest cotton shift.

  Despite myself, I flushed. “No, but an artist all the same. Let me guess, you work with money.”

  “In a sense,” he said, and his eyes danced. “Is this Twenty Questions?”

  I laughed. “I haven’t played that since I was a kid.”

  “Not so long ago.”

  “Long enough,” I corrected and shot a look at him from the corner of my eye. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-one. I’m also 6’1 and I’ve broken my right arm three times.” His small smile was a boyish contrast to his sharp, almost aggressively drawn features. I wanted desperately to trace the exaggerated line of his jaw and dip a finger into the slight hollow beneath his cheekbone.

  “Twenty-four.” I pulled the bulk of my wavy hair to one side in order to show him the tattoo behind my ear.

  When I didn’t explain its significance, he frowned. “What is it?”

  “A mark,” I said simply.

  I jerked slightly when his fingers brushed over the swirled ink. “I like it.”

  “Thank you.” My voice was breathy as I draped my hair once more over my shoulders.

  “What brings you to Mexico? I take it your family doesn’t live here.” A finger ran down my arm lightly, highlighting the paleness of my skin.

  “My family is much more exotic than I am.” I thought of Mama and the twins with a slight grimace; years of hero worship were hard to completely eradicate. “My best friend booked the trip but couldn’t make it. I was only too happy to take her place.”

  He nodded, his eyes intense as he contemplated me. The connection between us thickened and hummed like the air during an electrical storm. Disturbed, I shifted away from him to look out the window as we swooped low over the ground above the runway. Strangely, I did not feel my usual apprehension as the plane tentatively brushed the tarmac once, twice, before smoothly landing.

  We didn’t speak as the pilot came on the overhead system announcing our arrival and it was only when we came to a slow stop at the terminal that I turned back to him. He faced forward, a furrow etched deeply between his brows and his mouth was firm with concentration. I wondered what he thought of me, of this strange meeting.

  Sensing my gaze, he said, “I’ve been trying to decide if I should see you again.”

  “What makes you think I would want to?” His eyebrow arched and I gave into his silent reproach with a little shrug. “What’s stopping you?”

  The seat belt sign turned off and we both stood at the same time, suddenly almost touching, the slim space between us charged with electricity the colour of his eyes. He looked down at me, his deep chestnut hair softening the dangerous edge of his features. “I have never wanted someone the way I want you.” His hand skimmed over my hip and sent a deep, throbbing shock through my system. “But I don’t like the idea that you could very well change my life.”

  My heart clanged uncomfortably against my ribcage and though I desperately wanted to say something, I couldn’t find the words to untangle the jumble of hormones and desires I had been reduced to. So instead, I watched a serious smile tilt one side of his closed lips as his eyes scraped over my face one last time and then, without a word still, he left.

  The Affair (The Evolution of Sin #1) is available now!

  Love is never easy. I believe in that simple statement down to my bones. It’s difficult enough to love yourself, to live a fulfilling life as an individual, so adding an entirely separate entity with their own goals and problems to the equation does not make for easy math.

  Alexander and Cosima’s story is a complicated chaos of dualities merging and disassociating constantly. Some may say that Alexander doesn’t deserve Cosima, but I would argue that as long as she loves him and he spends the rest of his life striving to be worthy of her, that is enough for them both. We don’t always fall in love with the best person or a good person, but as long as they are the right one, none of that really matters.

  A note on the delay for this release. I was taken out of commission by a truly terrible double eye infection that literally kept me from seeing the words in front of me. It was hurtful, but it was also psychologically damaging, because I didn’t want to let any of my readers down by postponing the book. Then my grandmother, the woman who raised me with my mother, had two strokes back to back that changed our lives forever. My girls Candi and S were pretty sure this book was cursed, but it’s finally live and I’m so freaking happy to share it with you! I am so thankful to the people who were patient and understanding of this process. It’s a lonely and soul-extracting thing to write a book. It is difficult at the best of times. So, having your positivity and support meant everything to me through that struggle.

  Before I continue to the acknowledgments just a quick disclaimer, I do not in any way support human trafficking. This is a fictionalized version of a very scary and real problem that still faces our society. If you need to talk to someone about the realities of the social issue, please contact your national human trafficking center to learn more.

  Now on to the good stuff, because thanking the people who make my dream job possible is like the icing on the cake of having published another novel.

  Serena, my right-hand woman and dear friend, thank you for putting up with my crazy and for always being there for me no matter what. Love you and us together.

  Allaa, I can’t imagine writing without you. You’ve made the process that I’ve lived for since I was a child even more incredible and I will always honour you for that.

  To Ella, every day is better with
your voice in it. You’re my ride or die.

  To my #dirtysoulsister Michelle Clay. Your tales of real-life romance constantly inspire. I’ve always wanted someone to divulge the craziness of my life to and know that I will never be judged for it. I am unbelievably grateful to have found that in you.

  Sarah from Musings of a Modern Book Belle, you are the best kind of sure thing. I love you for all the ways you help me be a better author, and for all the ways you offer your enduring friendship. I can’t imagine not having you as part of my process and I feel blessed to have you in my life.

  To Sarah Green, the newest addition to my inner circle but someone who I feel as if I’ve known forever. Thank you for punctuating my day with your witticisms and stories. I love you so much and can’t wait for you to visit.

  Jenny from Editing4Indies, you are my saviour. Thank you for polishing this manuscript from a diamond in the rough into a polished gem.

  A big thank you to Ellie who swooped in to proof read this project last minute and did a fabulous job!

  Candi from Candi Kane PR, you make releases ten times less stressful and any author knows that’s worth everything. Thank you for your endless hard work on my behalf and for providing me with essential advice. I love you so much.

  Najla Qamber from Najla Qamber Designs, is the only woman I have ever worked with on a cover. She is my wizard and the creator of all my gorgeous graphics.

  Stacey at Champagne Formatting, thank you for putting up with my last-minute ways and formatting my books so beautifully.

  I love thanking my Review Team because without them, no one would know about my words. Thank you all for being so passionate about Cosima and Alexander, and about me. You bring me so much solace whenever I doubt myself or my life is falling to pieces, and that is priceless.

  Giana’s Darlings, you are the best reader’s group on the planet and my safe, little happy place on the interweb. I love talking with you all about books, boys, and real-life problems. It’s like having my own personal girl squad and that’s pretty freaking cool.