I was still sceptical whether I wanted Chiara to really accompany me back to America, but since the woman had turned down my invitation, there was no need to try convincing her.
We all had our lives to live, and for someone as old as the redhead, I was sure she already had long-stretching plans laid down.
Thinking of a redhead made my mind go toward a blue head, Hontas's face popped into my head, along with the image of her soft, flexible body.
Shivering slightly, I cleared my head of the dirty thoughts and focused on the path ahead, I mean the literal ground I was walking on.
I had left Chiara back at the airport's VIP lounge and was now walking toward my jet.
Looking around, I loved the sight of personnel tending to my jet—last-minute checks and runway instructions being given, a man with light sticks in hand already standing by.
