Chapter 135: 135 ~ Mira
Prepping for a trip could be exciting and exhausting at the same time.
But I was over the moon that I was going on a vacation with Jace.
By the next morning, the penthouse was already buzzing with motion. I had barely gotten out of bed when a suitcase rolled into the bedroom. It was sleek black leather with golden zippers that glimmered in the sunlight.
Jace didn’t ask me to pack. He basically commanded me to do it.
"Essentials only, mia cara" he said, adjusting his cufflinks in front of the mirror. "I don’t want us weighed down with too much luggage. I’ll have whatever else you need bought when we land."
That was his way of saying: trust me.
I liked it. In fact, I loved it.
I sat on the edge of the bed, watching him. The man could strip kingdoms down to ash with the snap of his fingers, and yet he worried about whether I carried too many dresses. It was ridiculous, but it warmed something inside me. He looked so put together so early in the morning, I wanted to pull him to the bed and tousle him up a bit.
The whiff of his perfume filled the room. I so badly wanted to sniff him.
I got out of bed and packed slowly. A few blouses, skirts, and dresses. Mostof them soft fabrics that wouldn’t crease easily. Jace had already placed a box on the bed earlier: a passport holder embossed with my initials, M.R. It felt surreal sliding my passport inside, like I had suddenly become the kind of woman who traveled the world with a powerful man at her side.
Five years ago, this would have never happened in my wildest dream. I couldn’t even imagine it.
Still, nerves hummed beneath my skin. Leaving the city, leaving behind the chaos of Ricardo and Enzo and Massimo...
I didn’t know if it meant safety or danger. Jace said he wanted us gone for a while, but I had learned that nothing he did was ever just for pleasure. He most likely had a reason for us going away.
"Where are we going first?" I asked as I folded a silk slip into the suitcase.
He came up behind me, hands sliding around my waist, lips grazing the back of my neck. "Italy first. Milan."
My heart jumped. His country. His roots. "Is that wise?" I whispered.
His chuckle was low and dangerous. "Wise has never been my favorite word, Mira. Besides..." he turned me in his arms, making me look up into his eyes.
"I want to show you where I come from. Not the blood, not the guns. The beauty. The life that existed before all of this."
And just like that, my doubts melted. I let his lips settle on mine.
By evening, the bags were ready. A sleek black SUV carried us straight onto the private runway, where Jace’s jet gleamed like something out of a movie.
I had seen planes before, but this one... it was another world. This was a different jet from the one I was used to.
"You got a new one?"
He smirked and shrugged. "I wanted a new toy so I got one."
This wasn’t rich. It wealthy in capital letters.
I almost gasped at the interiors. Cream leather seats, a long polished table, bottles of champagne chilling in silver buckets. The flight attendant smiled politely as she took my bag, but my eyes were only on Jace.
"You fly this often?" I asked as we climbed aboard.
"Too often." He loosened his tie, throwing it carelessly onto the nearest seat. "But never for something like this."
The engines roared to life, and as we lifted off, I felt the press of his hand against mine. He didn’t speak, just squeezed gently as the city lights shrank below us. I realized then that this wasn’t only about me. This was his escape too. It was a temporary reprieve from the wars waiting outside.
At thirty thousand feet, we sat across from each other, a plate of truffle risotto between us. I teased him, saying he’d picked the meal just to show off his roots, but he only smirked.
"Wait until Milan," he said. "You’ll taste the real thing there."
The flight felt shorter than it was. Between whispered conversations, stolen kisses, and the glass of wine that left me warm and drowsy, time blurred. By the time the wheels touched down, I was half asleep against Jace’s shoulder.
"Wake up, mia cara," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "We’re here."
The air in Italy was different. It greeted me with a softness that carried warmth, olives, and espresso all at once. The terminal was small and private, guarded by men who nodded at Jace with respect.
It was peaceful compared to the hustle and bustle of LA. It felt more homely. It wasn’t home per se because I’d never lived here even though I was originally Italian.
We slipped into another SUV, and the drive itself felt like a dream. Rolling hills stretched out on either side, dotted with vineyards and villas that looked like paintings come to life. I pressed my forehead to the glass, unable to take it all in.
Jace watched me more than the scenery. "You like it?" he asked.
"I love it," I breathed.
He smiled faintly, as though my joy mattered more than the view itself.
Our first stop wasn’t a hotel. It was a villa on the outskirts of Milan, the kind of place that didn’t exist in reality, only in fantasies. White stone walls climbed with ivy, terracotta roofs gleaming under the sun, and a fountain in the courtyard that sang softly as water spilled into its basin.
Inside, the villa was furnished in clean lines and warm wood, but the windows stole my attention. Each one of them opened to views of sprawling gardens and distant mountains.
"This is temporary," Jace said, setting his gun holster down on a table like it was the most natural thing in the world. "Just a base for us while we move around."
I turned to him, incredulous. "Temporary? Jace, this place is... it’s paradise."
His lips curved in a dangerous beautiful smile that mad my heart beat faster.
"Then I’ve done well," he remarked.
He didn’t kiss me immediately even when I so badly wanted him to. Instead, he walked me through the villa and showed me the master bedroom where we would be sleeping, the balcony overlooking olive trees, the kitchen stocked with imported ingredients. Each detail carried his mark. He had thought of everything, down to the way the sunlight would pour into our room in the morning.
How was he able to pull this off in one day? I wondered. Then I shrugged, realizing that money made the world go round.
When he finally pulled me against him in the middle of that sprawling villa, I realized something: this was more than a trip. This was his way of giving me a piece of the life he wished he could give me always.
Over the next few hours, I unpacked while he took calls in another room. The sound of his voice drifted through the walls. It was low, firm and commanding. I didn’t need to know the language to know it was about business, about the plan he refused to tell me in detail.
Still, I tried to focus on my own little world. I tucked my dresses into drawers, lined my shoes neatly in the closet, and placed the strawberry shampoo on the marble bathroom shelf. It was strange how ordinary tasks could feel extraordinary in a foreign place.
It felt like something straight out of a movie. The last time Jace and I went on a vacations It was nothing like this. I liked how it felt.
Later, he came to me with a hand at the small of my back. "Tomorrow," he said, "I’ll take you into the city. You’ll see Milan the way it’s meant to be seen."
"Will it be safe?" I asked quietly.
His jaw tightened. "With me, you’re always safe."
I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe that this trip was a promise, not a distraction from the shadows looming behind us. But as I lay in bed that night, staring at the unfamiliar ceiling above me, a question nagged at my chest.
Why did I feel like this was only the calm before another storm?
The next morning, sunlight poured in golden and soft. Jace was already dressed, leaning against the balcony rail with a cup of coffee in hand, his shirt sleeves rolled up. He looked... almost human. Almost free. I loved seeing him at ease with himself like this. He seemed so carefree.
And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe that maybe, just maybe, this trip wasn’t only about survival. Maybe it was just about us.