Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 58353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58353 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 233(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Drew is simmering with irritation. He really wanted to watch me flail and instead, I was rescued by a dashingly handsome stranger. Marco. Hm. I wonder if I'll get another chance to talk to him.
The flight to Rome is nine hours. A lot can happen in nine hours.
As I make my way back to the galley, I can't help but think about the man who just saved me. Marco. His deep voice echoes in my mind, and I can't shake the feeling of safety with him on my side. I felt protected, taken care of. . It's not often that I encounter a passenger who is willing to stand up for me, especially against someone as entitled and aggressive as the pink-faced man in First Class. I can't help wondering who Marco is and what he does for a living.
I also can’t stop thinking about the way his muscles looked in his fitted button-down or that wink!
As the flight takes off and the cabin lights dim, I busy myself with the tasks of serving passengers and ensuring their safety. But every now and then, I steal a glance towards First Class, hoping to catch a glimpse of Marco. I know it's silly, but I can't help it. There's just something about him that makes me want to know more.
When the first beverage service happens, I fidget with my cart. I'm assigned to Coach, but, maybe I can slip into First. Maybe Drew needs help there––he's slow, a little sloppy at times. He's also aggressively protective of his turf, which he's only assigned because he's got seniority.
"You okay, Filia?" Sally asks. She's standing on the other side of the drink cart. Her red hair is wrapped high on her head in a stylish braid I could never achieve, even if I watched a TikTok How To video on repeat for seven hours––something I may or may not have done once on a stop over in Prague..Fancy hair isn't for me. I keep my brunette strands in a low ponytail at the base of my neck.
"I'm fine," I say, double checking we have enough ice. "Just wondering if Drew would want some help in First Class."
Sally raises an eyebrow. "Really? You're trying to get closer to that muscle-bound hero?"
I flush, feeling embarrassed. "Drew told you." There's no way she'd witnessed it. "He's such a gossip."
Sally laughs, shaking her head. "Drew won't let you help in First. But maybe I can tag you in."
My interest is piqued. "How?"
"Follow me." She grabs a bottle of wine from under the cart. I hesitate, but curiously chase after her down the aisle. She reaches the curtain and pushes through, so do I. Drew is at the opposite end of the aisle from us. He's in the middle of serving a mimosa to an older woman. When he spots us, his smile melts into a scowl.
Sally rushes forward, saying, "Drew! Here, this wine goes on your cart!" It doesn't, so why is she saying...
With a fake gasp that would win her no Oscars, Sally tumbles onto one knee. The bottle splashes an arc of deep red wine outward. It lands squarely on the striped shirt of none other than the customer I'd faced off with earlier.
Oh. Shit.
Shit shit shit what is Sally thinking?
I rush forward to help Sally up, trying to ignore the fact that the customer is firing off curses like a machine gun. Drew is already there, apologizing profusely and trying to calm the man down. But it's no use. The customer is furious, and he's not going to let it go.
"Sally!" I seethe quietly. "What--"
"Oh, good call, Drew," she says, loudly. She pushes me forward towards the drink cart Drew was working on. "You clean that. Filia can be your extra help and finish beverages and snacks."
Drew's eyes widen. I know that looks, it's how I must have looked earlier when he tricked me. "But––"
"Bye bye, gotta finish in Coach!" Sally crows. Then she's gone, behind the curtain.
Drew glares hotly at me. The striped-shirt man glares, too. I've got two men furious with me while I'm trapped thousands of miles in the air.
That's when I see Marco.
He's sitting in the window seat on the far left of the curtain. I didn't see him earlier before takeoff because the middle divider aisle blocked my view. But here, near the cockpit where Drew left the cart, I have a perfect line of sight.
His green eyes are locked on me. The aisle seat beside him is empty. Does that mean he's flying alone? My mind races with new questions; is he married or is he a bachelor? How old is he? He mentioned an important meeting when we land in Rome. Is he some company bigwig or something else?
Well, I shouldn't waste the opportunity Sally gave me. Pushing the cart, I proceed to finish the service Drew started. He shoots another glare at me when I get close. But I ignore him and go about my business passing out packets of almonds, beer, wine, and sodas. My pulse races as I approach Marco’s seat.