Page 17 of Scream
Maksim stares with narrowed eyes as she takes them from me, and I hide my smirk.
“Honestly, Parker, I don’t know what I’d do without you. Thank you.” she says, opening the black Armani case and slipping the light pink, cat-eye see-through frames on. They’re large on her pretty face, but she makes them look good. Except she hands them to me. I reach into my top suit pocket and fish out the microfiber square, clean them for her and give them back.
“Thank you,” “please,” “it’s showtime.”
It’s what she says a lot these days.
She pulls her lap desk out of another bag and folds her shapely legs up, crossing them to hold the lap desk. She puts her tablet andother stationery items on top and silently begins to work, tapping her pen against her lips and then writing in her loopy cursive. She goes back and forth between her notes to typing on the screen, getting lost in legal jargon.
I have to remind her to take sips of her water bottle otherwise she’ll go hours without any. Mentally, I’ve gone from being her guard to being her caretaker. I don’t mind it.
“So, you wear glasses?” Maksim says from across the cabin.
“Only while reading smaller print. A lot of these prenups have very fine print, and I need to be able to read them,” she replies, not even looking in his direction. It’s a lie. She has astigmatism and was not a candidate for Lasik. She wears contacts but not on long flights because they dry up badly and make her eyes burn.
But that’s information she’s only shared with me and Matilda.That’s alright. I keep her safe. I keep her secrets. I like it that way.
Again, he looks at her as if trying to figure her out then, “Good to know my future wife wears glasses. Imagine someone asks me to get them for you and I had no fucking clue you wore them.”
Sabrina sighs. “Thankfully, Parker here knows where they are. And thankfully, I’ll only be your wife onpaper, Mr. Giordano.”
“It’s a veryrealring on your finger, and for the last fucking time, it’sMaksim. Quit with the Giordano shit.”
I prefer her to call him by his familial name, which makes it less real for me. But I don't say that. I simply watch as she highlights a passage and then types something into her tablet. She hands it to me, I read over it, tell her it looks fine, and hand it back. I don’t know jack shit about law, but I learned it from her. Well, I let her explain most of it to me so when she passes something by me, I can either nod or make some kind of face to let her know it doesn’t make sense to me.
I have what I like to call an honorary degree from Sabrina Winters University. I graduated top of my class. Well, almost. There are a few…otherthings I need to learn to get my Masters. Then I want to go back and get my PhD.
By this point, Maksim looks either irritated as hell, or like he’s going to be sick, and I want to laugh.
The flight attendant comes back out, asking if we’d like a drink. When he orders two fingers of Johnnie Walker Blue, the attendant replies they don’t have alcohol on board.
Sabrina, finally acknowledging him completely, looks taken aback by his appearance. “Christ, you look ghastly. I’m so glad this ishow you’ve decided to introduce yourself to my mother. Best foot forward and all.”
“Why is there no alcohol on this plane?”
“I don’t allow alcohol.”
“Are you in recovery?”
She barely flinches at the brass in his tone, I doubt he sees it, but I did. I sit up a little straighter and square my shoulders. “Sure, you could say that.”
“What is it? Poor little princess couldn’t handle her liquor and had to go to rehab one too many times?”
I should punch the fucker, but it isn’t my place. Not now, anyway. But when the time comes, I'll be ready.
Sabrina blinks at him, no sign of frustration or irritation. She's choosing her battles. Handing me her glasses to clean again, she just looks up at the flight attendant and smiles that perfect fucking smile I fucking hate. The same one she's been throwing on for the last two years. I still don’t fully know what happened after that fuckface dropped her off, claiming she was drunk as fuck at the front door of her mother’s house. I just know whatever happened changed my little spitfire into a dwindling ember.
I hand her back the glasses as she says, “Macy, see if my father has a bottle in his bedroom, would you? Lower left cabinet by the bed.”
Macy, a little older lady with not much going on in the appearance department, more church mouse than anything, comes back not five minutes later, bottle and tumbler in hand, also placing a smile on her face but the awkward tension is still in the air. She serves Maksim the amber liquid and then goes back to her place.
Sabrina bends again and searches for her headphones in her bag. She places them over her ears, and I hand her her phone so she can play the low classical melodies she’s been into lately, because yes, she left her phone behind with her glasses as well, and I pocketed it all for her for when she needed the damn thing. As smart a beauty she is, she’s also forgetful as fuck. But that’s okay. I got her.
Sabrina works diligently for two hours straight, and the longer she works, the more Maksim glowers at her. Especially when she hands me her glasses to clean every thirty minutes like clockwork. When she's done, she packs everything up neatly. I get up and grab her favorite throw blanket and pillow from the overhead compartment and hand them to her. She thanks me, not taking off her headphones. She lays the seat down and turns on her side. I'm guessing she sees the way Maksim is glaring at her, practically seething, and she decides to face me instead.
“Ogre,” she mouths, and I contain my smirk.
We land just a few hours later and when she wakes up, she heads to the restroom to freshen up. She comes back sans glasses and hands them to me. I clean them again before I pocket them. I keep them safe.
