3

If there was anything Carys hated more than cats, it was flying. The ascent and descent never mixed well with the tight nerves in her stomach. A woman with not many secrets, this, was the most terrifying, which she kept under bunkers of steel when flying with her colleagues.

As a woman prospering in a man’s world, it was important to show no weakness or give room for meaningless friendships, relationships or even casual sex. Shaking her head at the last entry, a virgin blush rose from her neck to her face.

What did she know about the topic? She may be accomplished in her line of work, yes, but she wasn’t an expert in bedroom activities and even though one or two tempting chances had come her way, it was easier to turn them down when she imagined how they would describe her.

Stiff, inexperienced, pillow princess, hard to please, saggy breasts, too wide hips, top it off with the natural blond hair on her head and she was America’s stupid sweetheart- unwilling to continue down the road of self-depreciation, Carys focused on the scratchy dull voice of the woman announcing incoming and outgoing flights.

“Isn’t that you, dear?”

Blinking at the smiling elderly woman that had tapped her arm, Carys tried to make sense of what she was trying to say. “I’m sorry, who?”

“Your flight, dear” Her smile dimmed slightly, and with her head cocked to the side, she tapped the ticket Carys was gripping for dear life with two shaky fingers. “They just called your flight.”

Her head whipped to the corner where the flight numbers were being displayed on a huge board, and there her number was, at the top of the pile. “Shi- shoot, thank you so much, I got carried away.”

“It’s okay, dear, you’ve been in a pensive mood, and I’m a little ashamed to say I’ve been watching you.” The wide smile on her face contradicted the statement. “I get scared to fly too; best thing to do is count backward from a hundred. It always works!”

Her grandmotherly enthusiasm was infectious; making Carys lean into her warm aura for a moment, but she needed to go. Missing her flight was out of the option. “I will definitely try that, safe travels and thank you again.”

Hurrying to the gate, she handed over her ticket and trailed behind the late comers. The airhostess and pilot smiled at her when she crossed the entry doors, the former guiding her to her seat. Once buckled, it took a couple minutes before the usual pilot introductory talk carried through the speakers accompanied by the five minute education on how to wear a life jacket, as if that would help them survive if the aircraft went nose first into solid ground.

She counted from a hundred backwards as the plane taxied towards the runway in preparation for takeoff. Incredibly, the trick worked, keeping a light smile on Carys’ face for the majority of the ride

~

“Thank you for flying with us” The air hostess’ smile was too bright. “I hope you enjoy your stay.”

Carys’ response was a good willed grunt and a hard yank on the handle of her carry-on luggage. Trudging behind people who were too tired to move faster, she endured the pace until the boarding bridge vomited them into the airport terminal.

Cutting out of the line, she made her way to the exit gate. Her bags had been packed and would be sent after her since she didn’t know what her live-in situation was going to be, Brent had told her she would most likely be staying on the estate, a scary possibility that set off loud alarms in her head.

Her eyes scanned the space in a touristy way, trying to pick out anyone who looked suspicious without meaning to do so. Brent had taught her how to remain under the radar by pretending to be a normal person.

Undergoing series of training in the army, working closely with the CIA and sometimes the FBI when Brent wanted to show off his shiny new toy – her – to his buddies squeezed out every naïve knowledge she had about the world and people.

If you felt someone was watching you, the most likely insinuation was that you were correct, and that gut feeling was never wrong, like now. Carys physically stopped herself from meeting the eyes of whoever was watching her.

Pausing to ask a security officer for directions to a hotel in a terrible Italian accent, he flagged down a taxi, spoke to the driver and gave her one last amused smile. “He will take you to a hotel.”

Forcing a blush, sliding into the back of the taxi, she replied. “Thank you.” The taxi joined the light traffic that merged to the express.

Milan was nothing like the classy New York, what it lacked in elegance and power suits flooding every corner of the street, it made up for with beautiful flowers decorating the walls of shops and houses, which was an oddity and rarity one would never find in the prim and polished state she had come from.

Every building had an air of history, but Carys didn’t understand the intense compulsion she felt to explore the grounds, and absorb everything happening around her.

“It feels like magic.” The taxi driver’s eyes met hers through his rear view mirror. “Most people I carry have same expression on face as you do.”

Her lips spread out into a small smile, magic? She didn’t believe in that, but she could agree, because she had no other words to describe what she was feeling.

The driver tried to make conversation, but his English wasn’t very good and Carys had to keep up the façade of not knowing how to speak Italian. It would be stupid to blow her cover this early.

“This the place.” He stopped, and pointed out of the window. “Americans like somewhere good and nice. Hotel Blu is one of the best in this city, and I know you enjoy your stay.”

Hotel Blu was indeed every American’s dream in a strange city, the service was top notch, the coffee was brilliant and the food menu was familiar, all a plus on her spoilt senses.

Her interview with, Mr. Ivon Valachi was slated for tomorrow so with her mind in overdrive and the soft sounds of the busy street, Carys buried herself under the warm covers and settled into a light slumber.