Chapter 3 - Ten Thousand Feet Over the Atlantic
The interior of the Virelli Gulfstream G650 was wrapped in cream leather and polished mahogany. Sadie sat near the window, feeling ridiculously out of place in her dark denim jeans and thrift-store sweater.
Across the aisle, Dominic sat with his laptop open, typing furiously while reviewing financial ledgers. He hadn't spoken a word to her since they passed through private security at Teterboro Airport three hours ago.
A flight attendant served a silver tray containing fresh espresso, pastries, and ice water. Sadie picked up her espresso cup carefully, enjoying the rich aroma.
“You’re surprisingly comfortable at thirty thousand feet for a janitor,” Dominic remarked without looking up from his screen.
“My father took me on cargo runs when I was young, Mr. Virelli,” Sadie replied calmly. “And just because I clean floors doesn't mean I’ve never seen the world. I worked my way through two years of community college before my dad got sick.”
Dominic closed his laptop with a quiet snap and turned to look at her. In the soft cabin lighting, without his corporate armor, he looked younger—and far more dangerous.
“Why didn't you ask for more money?” Dominic asked, leaning back against his leather seat. “My father offered you five grand a week. You could have squeezed him for ten. He was desperate.”
“I’m not a extortionist, Mr. Virelli,” Sadie said, looking him dead in the eye. “I asked for what was fair to cover my living costs and my dad’s remaining debts. I don't take what I haven't earned.”
Dominic studied her face—the soft curve of her jaw, her striking hazel eyes, and the stubborn chin that refused to bow to his intimidation tactics.
“You think I’m a monster, don't you?” Dominic asked softly.
“I think you’re a man who has never had to suffer the consequences of his own balance sheets,” Sadie answered honestly. “You look at numbers on a screen and see efficiency. The men on those docks look at those same numbers and see whether they can afford medicine for their children.”
Dominic leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his face inches from hers. “My family built an empire from nothing, Sadie. My grandfather arrived in Ellis Island with ten dollars in his pocket and blood on his hands. We survived because we were harder, faster, and smarter than the people trying to destroy us. I don't have the luxury of playing philanthropist.”
“There’s a difference between being hard and being blind, Dominic,” she whispered back, using his first name for the very first time.
The sound of her voice saying his name sent a strange, electric current through Dominic’s chest. He stared at her lips, suddenly painfully aware of how close they were sitting, how quiet the airplane cabin had become, and how utterly different she was from any woman he had ever met in his world of wealth and syndicate royalty.
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Before he could answer, the pilot’s voice chimed over the intercom: “Mr. Virelli, we’re beginning our descent into Palermo. Current temperature is sixty-eight degrees with clear skies.”
Dominic broke eye contact, clearing his throat awkwardly as he buckled his seatbelt. “Get ready, Sadie. When we land, the pleasantries end.”
