ALESSANDRE
FLASHBACK
The jet hummed beneath us, smooth and energetic, cutting through the night like a blade. I settled back in the leather chair, champagne flute in my fingers, and observed the girl across from me.
Six weeks at Regent, and she still clung to that notebook as if it were her armour. Her pen was so tightly held in her hand, I was surprised it didn't crack at all.
"You're holding that pen like it’s a dagger or something," I told her, stirring the champagne. "What's the idea? Stick me if I ask questions you don’t like?"
Her head snapped up, eyes burning. Christ, those eyes. "I thought we’re meant to be reviewing the conference agenda."
I c****d an eyebrow. "We are,” I said. “But you're as tight as a spring. Perhaps take... a deep breath."
"I'm not tight," she fibbed, o
