Page 13 of I Would Beg For You
“Elizabeth did find Wickham attractive. You can’t deny it.”
There he goes again with the slander.
“Darcy behaved like an ass with her.”
“Darcy always had the superpower.”
“Like what? He’s rich?”
He smiles. “No. Being rich, that’s Batman’s superpower.”
I can’t believe he’s quoting from a terribleJustice Leagueflick now. But we still have irons in the fire, and I’m not giving up this easily.
“So, what’s his superpower, then?”
“He’s a patient man.”
I narrow my eyes. “Huh?”
“He never gave up on Elizabeth even when she rejected him.”
I’ve read that book dozens of times. How come I never thought of it that way? It pains me to admit he is right, but he is. And he knows this. When I glance at him, it’s to find his body angled my way, a little smile on his beautiful mouth.
“Patience is his superpower. It’s the case for all of them.”
What’s he going on about now? “All of them who?”
“Austen’s heroes.”
I still can’t wrap my mind around the fact he knows about books, let alone the classics. Valentino always struck me as a man who’d have eclectic tastes. Women, rich scotch maybe. Soft jazz for music?
“Wentworth inPersuasion. Ferrars and especially Colonel Brandon inSense and Sensibility. And let’s not forget the most patient of them all, Mr. Knightley fromEmma.”
With this, he pulls me into a discussion about Austen’s heroes and the women they fall for.
I don’t realize the plane has landed until there’s a flight attendant coming down the aisles and guiding us to disembark.
I blink. Did I just have hours of effortless banter about classical literature with Valentino Andretti?
With reality settling back in, I remember who I am dealing with. I work in politics, which means I hear things. A lot of things. Never mind what my father has told me about the unsavory dealings going on next door in the Andretti household—I have heard a lot about Valentino Andretti over the years. He’s taking over the family business, but he is already a fearsome character to begin with. There’s rumors he took an entire airline company to the ground because he disliked a trip he took with them. Most people gave a one-star review; he annihilated the whole company. And that’s just one of the stories going around about him.
I lose him in the crush of arrival once inside the terminal. To his credit, he doesn’t stick around or hover this time. Guess we’re both eager to get home asap.
Speaking of home, where’s Elliott, Dad’s driver? He usually has the Cadillac Escalade idling right in front of the arrivals exit, parked there as if he’s untouchable.
Instead, I see a black Range Rover in the spot, no cars except for yellow taxis around.
Guess who’s getting into the SUV? None other than Valentino Andretti.
It’s dark and the December night is cold and draughty. My long wool coat is no match for the gusty below-freezing wind. How much longer will Elliott make me wait? With every second that passes, my strength is ebbing away. I sway a little as I try to stay upright. My knees always turn to jelly after an anxiety attack. Along with the delicious orgasm I had on the plane adding to the energy drain, I’m going to slither to the ground sooner rather than later.
“Can I offer you a ride?”
I turn toward Valentino’s sexy gravelly voice. He has the back door of the Range Rover open, as if waiting for me.
It’s a split-second decision. I just spent four long hours next to this man on a plane. Nothing bad happened to me. In fact, he took care of me, in the most delicious way. In the state I’m in, all I want is to get home. That’s next door to his house, so basically, we’re going to the same place. It’s not putting him out or anything.
“You know what? Yes, please.”
