Sienna DiMarco
The SUV took us to a private area of the airport. There was a nice jet waiting for us. I looked at Salvatore, and he nodded. Of course, we would be traveling on a private jet, not commercial, not even first class… simply the only class she knew about, super high class.
Our driver opened his door, “Mr. DiMarco…” he said, and Sal stepped out of the SUV, offering me his hand to step out of the vehicle.
“Take our bags up on the plane, we don´t need to send them to cargo,” Salvatore said, and the driver opened the trunk, and a flight attendant quickly made haste pulling our carry-ons into the jet.
“Sal, this…” I sighed, and he smirked.
“The way I am used to travel, and you should get used to it too… this plane is yours just as it is mine,” he laced his fingers with mine
