He’s looking straight at me, obviously waiting for some sort of reaction.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.” That’s all I can manage.
His eyes crinkle slightly at the corners when he smiles and damn it if I’m not blushing again.
Geez Ava, pull yourself together.
“Your drink, sir.” The flight attendant sets his drink down.
She’s so close she might as well sit on his lap. Her tight uniform hugs her curves, and her top reveals cleavage dangerously close to overflowing. She’s pulled her thick blond hair back from her face with just a bit brushed across her forehead. Her blue eyes shine and gleaming white teeth smile out from glossy red lips. She’s so pretty, and she exudes sexy efficiency.
I gaze jealously at her for a moment and then look back at Mr. Stoic. He doesn’t even seem to notice her. You’d have to be gay not to like this woman. Lord, please don’t let this beautiful man be gay.
“Miss…?” He keeps his gaze locked on mine.
“Bradshaw.” I shift my eyes back to the flight attendant who, slightly cooled, hands my drink to me. She quickly walks away.
“Salute.” Mr. Stoic offers his glass to me for a toast.
“Salute.” I repeat slowly and clink his glass.
“What language is that?” I must try to make conversation with the handsome stranger.
“It’s Italian.” He smiles again, all dazzling teeth and twinkling eyes.
My eyes wash over his lovely frame. I’m positive sex with this man would have to be amazing. Maybe there is some wiggle room in the recovery plan.
Stop flirting, Ava. The last thing you need is a man. Besides, he’s out of your league sister. That much is clear.
I shake my head trying to quiet my thoughts and enjoy the situation.
“Do you speak Italian then?”
Really, Ava, that’s the best you could do?
“Yes. I also speak French, Spanish, and of course, English. I travel a lot for work so it is useful.”
“So you’re Italian?”
Again with the stupid questions.
He nods.
Ask him something. Think!
“Is this trip business or pleasure?”
A sly smile appears on his lips. His expression reads all pleasure and zero business.
“A little of both, I hope.” His eye contact is daunting. “I’m headed to Phoenix for a conference. You?”
“I’m moving to Phoenix, Scottsdale actually.”
He glances at me and then down at my small carry on bag.
“With that? Are you running away from home?” He’s smirking now.
“You know, you can check luggage on planes. And I hired a moving company, thank you very much.” Why am I defending myself? I don’t even know this guy.
He playfully puts his hands up. “Excuse me, miss, I was just having a little fun. My apologies if I’ve offended you.”
I look away and gulp down my Lambrusco. It looks like red wine but cold and sparkling, almost like Champagne. It slides down my throat, cool and bubbly, with a hint of sweetness.
He’s making me nervous. And when I get nervous, I drink. Or eat. Okay, usually I eat.
The flight attendant quickly refills my glass. Fidgety and nervous, I gulp down my second drink, trying to find where I left my cool composure.
Mr. Stoic narrows his eyes a bit. “Well, Miss Bradshaw, I do hope you have a designated driver waiting in Phoenix.”
He’s totally right. I just downed two glasses of wine, and I didn’t eat anything today yet. I look at my watch and realize we have thirty minutes before we land–just enough time for me to be shit faced drunk. Super. This is not going well. I shift away from him again and cross my arms.
“I’ll be fine.” I mumble.
“I have no doubt you will be, Miss Bradshaw.”
We sit in silence for a few moments. I glance back at him, but he’s focused intently on his laptop again.
I pick up my magazine, completely disinterested now. I wonder what his real name is. I didn’t ask and now I’m fake mad at him for teasing me.
I really want to turn around and study his dark features. He’s so handsome, like a beautiful living sculpture. Could there be anything physically flawed about this man at all? Maybe he has a tiny dick. Nah, I doubt it. He’s legitimately confident, comfortable with himself. No apparent signs of penis envy.
I continue staring, trying to avoid detection. He’s dressed in a grey suit, crisp white shirt and no tie, expensive looking cuff links and very stylish dress shoes. He looks just as comfortable as he would be if he were wearing jeans. He must dress this way a lot.
His hands are nice and masculine, but they look soft to the touch. I bet he knows how to touch a woman with those. His wavy hair just touches the top of his collar. It’s so dark it actually shines. I can imagine twisting my fingers through it.
And his mouth, oh my goodness, that mouth. My eyes focus on his enticing pout, and pure desire explodes deep in my belly. The thought of sucking on those lips is very tempting indeed.
I may be heartbroken, but I’m not dead. Mr. Stoic is pure eye candy with an Italian accented cherry on top.
The fasten seat belt sign comes on again. Over the intercom, the captain announces we are preparing our descent into Sky Harbor Airport.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the local time is 10:20 am. The temperature is currently 102 degrees outside–looks like it’s going to be another scorcher.”
Phoenix! My heart races. I’m excited and scared all at once.
I start to gather my things and realize with horror that I’m very dizzy. What am I going to do? I panic.
I need to clear my head and do it fast. Okay let’s see, I could wait in the airport for a little while. Maybe by the time I get my luggage and rent a car, I’ll be fine. Oh, I wish I didn’t drink that wine so fast.
Mr. Stoic fastens his seat belt and stows his laptop once more in a black leather bag.
“Miss Bradshaw, how are you getting home from the airport?”
“In a car.” I don’t want to talk to him, and I don’t want to make eye contact.
“Is someone picking you up?”
I shake my head no.
“Let me offer you a ride.”
I look into his blue eyes and feel my knees weaken. There is no way I’m going anywhere with this man.
“I don’t want to inconvenience you. I’ll be fine.” I hope that’s true. I have no idea where I’m going in a brand-new town, and my head is spinning.
His expression turns very serious. “It’s not an inconvenience, and I insist. I put you in this situation, and I feel responsible.”
“You did not put me in a situation, Mr.…?” I still don’t even know his name.
“You may think you’re fine, but you’re fumbling all over your things. It’s obvious the wine affected you.” He ignores my request for his name.
I know he’s right. I let out a heavy sigh before responding. “I was going to rent a car.”
He flashes a brilliant smile. “I can assist with that. My driver can take you home now, and we’ll ensure you get a car tomorrow.”
His driver? “It seems I am at your mercy, sir.”
His eyes widen again, but he says nothing.
Moments later, we touch down in Phoenix. At the gate, he stands and offers his hand to me. I take it and step into the aisle, walking slowly behind him. I grip the seat in front of me and try to stop the world from spinning.
We pass Miss Beautiful Flight Attendant. She flashes stunning white teeth at Mr. Stoic. She hands him a card on the way out and tells him it was a pleasure serving him on the flight today.
Obvious, party of one!
He smiles politely and moves forward. She sees me close behind, his hand on mine, and her smile all but disappears from her pretty face.
“Hope you enjoyed your flight, miss.” She musters.
I smile back a ‘ha ha, he’s with me’ smile, even though it’s not remotely tru
e. I do like holding his hand though.
“Did she give you her phone number?” It’s none of my business really, but I ask anyway.
He looks down at the card she handed him. “Yes, she did.”
“Are you going to use it? She’s very pretty.”
“Is she? I didn’t notice.” His voice is flat, giving away nothing.
“I thought so.”
“Would you like her number?” A slight smile appears on his lips.
“No. I like men, thank you.” I should just shut up. Too much wine and talking to hot men is a situation best avoided.
“That’s good to hear.” He smiles again and tosses the card in the trash as we walk by. Hmm, maybe he is gay.
“Miss Bradshaw,” he looks back at me as we walk through the terminal. “Do you have the address to your place?”
“Yes.” I hand him the internet printout with my apartment information. He glances at it and then hands it to a man in a black suit standing in front of us. The man is tall and muscular with very short blond hair. His blue eyes are very light, much lighter than Mr. Stoic’s are. His expression is neutral, but imposing.
“Sir.” He glances at the paper.
“Grayson, we need to take a detour and drive Miss Bradshaw to this location.”
“Yes, sir.” He reaches for my carry on.
“Um, I have some luggage in baggage claim.” All of this feels very awkward.
“Oh yes, I almost forgot. Grayson will bring them to you later. Give him your claim ticket.”
I hand Grayson my baggage check tags.
“All set?” His charming smile fills his face once more.
“Don’t you have any luggage?”
“I have everything I need. Don’t worry.”
What the hell are you doing, Ava?
It’s nice of him to help but what if he’s some kind of freak? Normally, I do not accept the kindness of strangers. I mean what if I end up on the ten o’clock news? Or he slips me one of those roofie things?
He seems safe though. He certainly doesn’t look like a serial killer. He turns and gives me a gentle smile that helps calm my fears. We head outside and as the doors open, a blast of blazing hot air hits my face. I pause for a moment, startled by the heat. Mr. Stoic turns around and offers his hand.
“I guess you’re not used to the heat, Miss Bradshaw?”
I feel nauseous. My swirling head combined with the heat does not make for a good combination. I grab my forehead and sway forward a bit, feeling a little faint.
“One sec,” I mutter.
My knees buckle and I feel his arms around my waist, holding me up. His commanding, accented voice sounds muffled.
“Grayson, get the door.”
Cool, supple leather presses against my back. I blink my eyes open. I get my bearings and realize I’m in the backseat of his car. Mr. Stoic hovers over me, concern cracking his demeanor.
“Are you okay?”
“Hmm yes, I think so.”
“Here sip this.” He hands me a cup of cool water.
I take a sip. Oh yeah, that’s much better. Over his shoulder, I see Grayson calmly behind the wheel.
“Sir, we should be there in about twenty minutes.”
Mr. Stoic nods his head, still looking at me.
I sit up. “I’m sorry. I bet you didn’t expect so much trouble this morning when you got on that flight.”
“It’s no trouble. I feel terrible getting that drink for you now.”
“I’m sure it’s more the heat and the excitement.”
He smiles again, intoxicating me more than any wine.
A blush creeps across my cheeks once more. “The excitement of moving,” I add.
I look out the window away from his intense gaze, just as we pull into my new apartment complex. I’m relieved to see that it looks just as nice in person as it did on the internet. The buildings themselves are what drew me to it in the first place. They are all one-story buildings, no neighbors above or below. My apartment is the corner unit overlooking a small grassy yard. I’m happy to see there is plenty of free parking directly in front. I hope the inside is nice as well.
“No gate, Miss Bradshaw?” Mr. Stoic’s voice turns cold.
“No gate. Do I need one, sir?”
Geez, one minute this guy is so sweet and the next he is so damn bossy.
“It’s always good to have extra security, but this is a good neighborhood. It should be acceptable.”
Acceptable? Like I need his approval.
“And no need to call me sir, Miss Bradshaw. You are not one of my employees.”
Oh my God, I still don’t know his name. I let a man take me home, and I don’t know his name. My dad would throw a fit if he knew.
“So what should I call you then?”
He raises his eyebrows. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
“No.”
“Did you hear that, Grayson? She has no idea who I am.” His tone fills with laughter he doesn’t actually make.
Grayson peers in the rearview mirror. “Amazing, sir.”
“Yes, amazing. What is your first name, Miss Bradshaw?”
Is he famous? Should I know who he is?
“Ava.”
“Ava Bradshaw,” he repeats. “What a nice name.” I try to hold his gaze but really want to look away. Holy hell, he’s intense.
“My name is Enzo Milano.”
I stare blankly at him. I don’t know anyone by that name, I’m sure of it. He smiles at me again.
“Well, admittedly you wouldn’t read about me in the pages of People.”
He’s making fun of me!
“Well then, how would I know who you are?”
He throws his head back in laughter, and I quietly gasp. A moment ago he was intense and all business but when he laughs, he looks young and carefree, like a regular guy.
“You’re more likely to find me in the pages of Architectural Digest.”
“I’m sorry—”
He waves his hands. “Don’t be sorry, Miss Bradshaw. I rather like it that you don’t know who I am.” He offers nothing else.
“We’re here.” Grayson announces as he steps out and opens my door. I cup my hand to my face to shield my eyes from the bright light and intense heat of the Arizona sun. I reach to take Grayson’s hand but Mr. Stoic, I mean Enzo, greets me instead. Fancy treatment for a girl wearing yoga pants. He’s much taller than I noticed before, at least six feet. My five foot three-inch frame feels very small next to him.
“I’ll walk you in.” It’s not a question.
Grayson steps back and watches as we walk towards the door to my new place. Oh shit, I don’t have the keys! I still have to go to the office.
“I don’t have the keys yet. I’ll need to go pick them up at the office.”
He narrows his eyes. “You don’t have a key? How did the movers get your things inside?”
It seems that I have a little problem on my hands. The movers aren’t here yet and won’t be for two days. How could I drop the ball like this? That’s what I get for being so stubborn and not letting my dad help.
I just need a moment to think. I can handle this. I really don’t want to involve Enzo further. I do not need a knight in shining armor.
“Listen, you’ve been super nice, and I appreciate the ride. But I can take it from here. I feel fine now, and the office is just over there.” I point over his shoulder. “You really don’t need to be concerned with me anymore.”
He steps closer to me, not too close. Just close enough. I feel myself holding my breath.
“You don’t have anything in there yet, do you?”
I cross my arms and shake my head no.
“When are the movers supposed to be here?”
I really don’t want to answer him. “Don’t worry about it.”
He frowns. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you? I still expect an answer.”
I sigh. He’s obviously not going to let this go. “Monday.”
/>
“It’s ridiculous for you to go in there with no furniture. Where are you going to sleep?”
“You have a point, sir.” I could kick myself right now.
“Stop calling me sir. I’ve told you my name. I want you to use it.”
Fine. How about I call you Mr. Bossy Pants?
“Okay, Enzo. I really didn’t plan this out as well as I thought.” I feel defeated. And stupid. So far, ‘operation new life’ is failing miserably.
I look up at him. His eyes soften and I suddenly feel very comforted.
“Let me help you, Miss Bradshaw.”
I lower my eyes. “I don’t believe I have a choice.”
“I have a place you can stay. For two days or as long as you need.”
I bristle. His place? Oh no, that won’t do.
“It’s a hotel.” He adds.
Oh, a hotel. Okay, that will work. Wait, his hotel room? No, that won’t work. I’m not sure what to say. He’s being kind, generous even, but I don’t want him to have the wrong idea.
“You will have your own private room, Miss Bradshaw.” An amused smirk spreads across his face. He thinks this is funny, doesn’t he?
I can handle a private room. And a shower. And staring at Mr. Bossy but Dreamy a little longer. But I need to keep my head together. I don’t know this guy at all, and I am accepting his generosity out of sheer need at this point.
“I want to get the key first.” I use my best confident voice. He needs to know he’s not going to boss me around.
“As you wish. Then Grayson can take you to your room, and I’ll leave you to your day.” He turns and walks towards the rental office.
How is he so cool in that suit in this heat?
We ride in silence while Enzo types away on his phone, effectively ignoring my presence. The alcohol is finally wearing off, and my body temperature has cooled. For the first time, I stop and notice my surroundings. We are not in a limo but a regular car of some sort. Mercedes maybe? He must be rich. He has his own driver, and he can take in a wayward girl he found at the airport. Still, I don’t recognize his name, Enzo Milano. Nothing a little internet digging can’t resolve.
We drive down Scottsdale Road and turn onto Lincoln Boulevard. Driving a bit further, we pull up to a large building that looks rather nondescript from the street. Once we get on the property, however, a magnificent Mediterranean style resort appears–its terra cotta stucco and abundant plant life masking its desert location. Grayson stops in front of valet and opens my door, then extends his hand. I reach up to take it, but he pulls back and once again, Enzo is there in his place.
Beautifully Twisted Page 28
