call me that,” she warned with a glower that could flash freeze meat. “God, you’re like gum on my shoe. Go away.”
Not a chance. “And why would I do that?”
“Because I don’t want you here,” she answered, cutting me a hard look.
I stared pointedly at her ringless finger, hating that she seemed to the world an available woman, when she belonged to me. “Where’s my grandmother’s ring?” I asked, moving slightly so other passengers could get past me, but I was already causing a logjam.
“It’s too heavy and it’s gaudy.”
“It may be gaudy, but there’s a lot of history in that ring,” I said. “Once we’re married, you’ll only have to wear it on special occasions or when we dine with the family. Mother has particular expectations about gifted family heirlooms.”
“I’m never wearing it,” Katherine returned flatly, “because I’m not marrying you.”
Her declaration hit me like a punch to the groin. She’d never outright stated she wanted to call off the wedding, but I should’ve seen it coming.
“That’s a big decision to make. I hardly think making it when you’re angry is a good idea,” I warned, glancing at the people trying to push past me.
“Luca, you’re blocking the way,” Katherine said, embarrassed. “Just go home and I’ll call you when I land.”
“Sorry, that’s not going to happen. Where you go, I go.”
Before Katherine could hit me with a retort, the sharply dressed attendant made her way to us, her expression polite yet annoyed that I was standing in the aisle as she said, “I need you to take your seat, sir. Perhaps I can help?”
Katherine was really going to be pissed, but it couldn’t be helped. “Yes, actually, my bride-to-be seems to have gotten the wrong seat assignment. I was just sharing with her that we’ve been upgraded. Can you help us out?”
Relieved to find the fix so simple, the attendant smiled and looked over my tickets, her expression breaking into a wider, more accommodating smile. “Of course, Mr. Donato.” She gestured to Katherine. “I am so sorry for the mix-up. Your seats are in first class. We’ll get that squared away right now.”
“Excellent,” I murmured, smiling apologetically at Katherine, knowing she wouldn’t risk a scene.
“Upgraded?” Katherine’s gaze flitted from the attendant to me, indecision marring her beautifully expressive face. Tiny freckles danced across the bridge of her nose and onto her cheekbones because she refused to wear enough sunscreen when she went out. She wanted to tell me to shove my ticket up my ass, but I knew she wouldn’t, not with so many people watching.
“Miss, if you’ll just come with me,” the attendant prompted, gesturing again, and I knew Katherine wanted to murder me. I’d take the risk.
“Fine,” Katherine finally relented with a sour look she didn’t even try to disguise, but I didn’t care. I needed more privacy—and legroom—than coach could provide for what I had to say to my runaway fiancée.
In a world filled with daisies, Katherine was a wild blood rose—willful and breathtaking yet dangerous with sharp thorns.
But even roses needed tending.
And Katherine had broken her contract by running. I could be a dick and just drag her off the plane, reminding her that our marriage was a business arrangement that neither of our fathers would allow to be dissolved, but that tactic would only make things worse between us.
“Sweetheart,” I murmured, settling my hand on the small of Katherine’s back as we fell in behind the attendant. I caught her subtle stiffening at my touch and I prepared myself for an uphill battle, dragging a wagon filled with cement—oh, and the wagon was probably on fire.
Katherine gave the attendant a tight smile and lowered into the luxury seat. “I can’t believe you. How dare you chase me down like a fox after a rabbit. I’m not your fucking property,” she said, crossing her arms and skewering me with the heat in her eyes. “How did you find me?”
I paused, accepting a champagne flute from the attendant, then answered, “Alana told me. She also said you quit your job at Franklin and Dodd.” She’d been working there for over a year.
“Damn you, Alana,” Katherine muttered, exhaling an irritated breath. “I knew I shouldn’t have told her where I was going.”
“True enough, but why did you quit your job?” I asked with a frown. “I thought you were doing well in their marketing department.”
Katherine ignored my query and simply shook her head, disappointed in her friend’s loose lips. I couldn’t blame her, but she should’ve known better. I’d never understood their friendship to begin with. Alana was the stereotypical rich girl, raised with wealth and privilege. She was somewhat clueless and out of touch.
I thought Katherine kept Alana grounded, but I had no idea what benefit Alana provided Katherine.
Katherine rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the furrows in her brow. “Damn, damn, damn,” she muttered before leaning back against the headrest, her jaw tense. “I should’ve just bailed and not told anyone.”
“Probably.”
She narrowed her gaze. “Thank you, peanut gallery. Nobody asked you.”
“Does your father know?” I asked.
She cut me a short look. “Of course not. He wouldn’t understand any more than you would.”
I swallowed the insult of being lumped in with her blowhard of a father, but in truth, while Bernard Oliver had more in common with my own father, Giovanni, I was nothing like either man.
“Why California?” I asked, settling in for the long flight, trying to make conversation.
“Because it was on my bucket list. And it was far enough away from everything associated with my life in New York. And yes, that includes you.”
I barked a short laugh even though I was starting to bristle at her constant jabs. “So you picked San Francisco in January? I hope you packed warm clothes, because you’re going to freeze your pretty little ass off.”
“I’m well aware of the weather. I’m not made of glass—I’m sure I’ll survive. Besides, nothing could be worse than a New York winter.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. The marine layer creates a thick fog that eats into your bones. I think I prefer snow.”
“The point was to get away from you. Anyplace would’ve been preferable as long as you weren’t there. Even a swamp. And before you start pointing out that I’ve never been to a swamp, so I can’t make that assumption, just stop before you start. You’ve screwed up my entire travel plan, and I’m really not in the mood to hear your mansplaining bullshit.”
I knew her well enough to recognize that she wasn’t playing.
“You know, I would’ve
