Chapter 32: Chapter 32

◇ KEL ◇

We were flying too high above Italian countryside that even Enzo's satellite phone didn't work when he tried calling his brother.

The noise of the plane's engines dulled the silence as I waited for Enzo to hang up. Unable to contact Leandro, his older brother, Enzo exchanged contact numbers with me instead. "I'll text you if I hear any news."

"Thanks."

"I'm scheduled to be in New York next month. Or weeks after. We got offices in the city. Let's meet up then? Talk about that cheque."

Oh dear. The payment again. Clearly he had no intention of letting it go. "Okay," I compromised. Arguing with him over the whole thing wouldn't help him rest throughout the flight. "Thank you." I stood up but then his hand grabbed mine again.

"Don't hesitate to call." Enzo regarded me with a stern look. "I'll be in the hospital when you get home, but you can text or call me. Alright?"

I put on a smile and bowed my head a little. "Thanks so much." I turned to leave him and headed back to my seat. Miles and his bodyguards ignored me when I sat next to him again.

He was on his phone again. Why? There was no cell reception in this altitude. Was he texting? "What was that?" he asked after almost a minute of complete silence.

"Nothing," I replied flatly.

"You were whispering to each other about nothing?" he gainsaid. "He was holding your hand."

I reclined and faced forward. His dubious question nearly made me roll my eyes. "Unless it seemed wildly inappropriate, or you're a bit jealous, don't act like it bothers you."

"Don't trust anything he says; you don't know him." Miles caught my wrist when I quickly stood up from my seat. "Where you going?"

"You said I should stay away." I tried not to frown at his grip. My hand was turning pale in his, and his confusing behavior was starting to drive me nuts.

"Just...sit here with me." Miles pulled me back to my seat. His shoulders visibly relaxed when I reclined beside him without another word.

Awkward silence. Although difficult, I sat quietly as he did the same, both of us forced to act like everything was fine—so as not to catch the attention of everyone around us. "Why can't I trust him?" I buckled up and ignored his stink eye.

"I—" Miles sighed. "Fuck. I can't even talk about it."

"You never wanna talk about anything."

"Alright— Fine." He balked to swear at himself again. "Sorry." He moved his head closer to mine, his voice drifting off to a whisper. The tip of his nose touched my cheek now. "Let's stop arguing. Okay?"

"Is that..." I froze and near gasped when he took out a black handgun from his satchel.

"What?" he asked with a faint shrug.

Since when did he carry a freakin' gun?

"Pappa insisted."

"Are you serious?" I watched and held my breath while he checked if the safety was on.

Putting the gun away, Miles pulled a face at my reaction, then reclined in his seat again. "Don't tell Jill or your mom about what happened. And don't call me. I'm changing my number."

"Why?" I scoffed while trying to hold back a scowl. "Why can't I tell them? Or call you?"

"Safety reasons." Miles scratched his head and subtly glanced around. "Talk later."

I wasn't allowed to call him? Would I get in serious trouble if I told my family about what happened in the estate? His instructions were confusing me even more. I clutched the seat belt and tried to act relaxed. "Why not now?"

"'Cause we're not alone." Miles was mumbling his words again. Although his armed bodyguards surrounded us right now, he felt unsafe for some reason. Just like I did.

We kept quiet for a while, mulling over our own thoughts and concerns. The overwrought tension could cut through glass.

Then he touched my hand. "You mad?"

I didn't respond but let him hold my hand.

"Sorry."

"There's so much you're not telling me."

Miles sighed loudly. "For your own good."

"What?"

"Just go back to school. Forget about working here again."

What did he mean? He wanted me to just quit my job and move back to New York?

"I'll send your stuff. Don't worry." Miles stopped touching my hand. His brows scrunched before he avoided my stare, as if his own advice bothered him to a degree.

"I'll fly back here soon. I can't just quit." Did he forget I still needed money?

The €28,550 in my savings account didn't assure me of a comfortable future back in the States. My Daddy Jim's latest hospital bills alone already cost at least $20,000—minus the daily cost of his maintenance meds.

How in the heck would I be able to just quit my job and go back to med school?

"I'll loan you some. Stop stressing over money. Just stay in New York."

Easy for him to say...

"No texts, calls. I'll email you instead. I'll use a different account."

Great. He's serious about me not contacting him ever again once I arrived in the States, but he wouldn't explain why. "What safety reasons?"

"So they can't track you," he muttered with clenched teeth, like he was running out of patience or something.

"Who's they?"

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"ALL PASSENGERS OF UNITALIA FLIGHT 4B309 BOUND FOR NEW YORK, THE PLANE HAS JUST ARRIVED. BE READY FOR BOARDING INSTRUCTIONS IN TEN MINUTES. THANK YOU."

The speakers blasted the monotonous announcement throughout the pre-departure lounge. I sat up quick and glanced around.

Almost all the passengers around me were napping. I'd picked the earliest flight. It was the cheapest on the list and I'd get home earlier. Although I'd kill for a soft and warm bed right now, at least I would be on my way home sooner.

My skin stayed cold and covered in goosebumps so I zipped up my hoodie. I'd fallen asleep on a bench near the boarding gates. At least I got three hours of much-needed rest. I stifled a yawn, tuning out the feeling of being watched from afar. I was just too tired and sleepy to care...but not too sleepy to forget that I had dreamt of Miles.

It was a weird, really detailed dream.

In the short but vivid dream, Miles had long hair again, and we were arguing about Enzo. Why? I couldn't exactly remember.

Was it something subconsciously borne out of my frustrations with his unusually distant behavior lately? Perhaps. Or it could just be plain old anxiety, my dear friend.

After the medical team brought Enzo to the nearest private hospital some two hours ago, I was escorted to the airport by Miles and his bodyguards. They just left me in the drop-off area with my luggage.

I didn't complain then, recalling Miles' paranoid behavior. "Taking down my social media. Don't send me emails either," he'd told me as they drove me to the airport, as if I had completely forgotten all his warnings earlier. Just part of his dad's security measures, he said.

I believed him, but he could've at least kissed me goodbye. Miles didn't even give me a hug. Like he was suddenly allergic to me or something. I shook off the thought. For now, I should just focus on getting back home. In roughly nine hours, I'd be in the hospital with my mom and sister, praying for my dad's surgery to go well.

The shrill sound of my message alert tone snapped me out of my contemplation. I reclined and checked my phone. It was someone from my agency in Milan, asking about my schedule and sudden leave of absence. I replied with a quick explanation.

Hopefully, I hadn't lost my job yet. I couldn't afford to lose it right now. So what if Miles didn't want me to go back to Italy? It was my decision. If he didn't want me to live in his house anymore, fine. I'd just find a new place to stay when I get back.

Ignoring the noise of the stationary televisions in the lounge, I put my phone back inside my purse. Then the loud PA system chimed again.

"ATTENTION: PASSENGERS OF UNITALIA FLIGHT 4B309 BOUND FOR NEW YORK, PLEASE BOARD THE AIRCRAFT NOW THROUGH GATE 125. THANK YOU."

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