L.A. Dead (Stone Barrington 6)

Stone was flabbergasted. "Where's the fireplace and the grand piano?" he asked.

An Armani-clad stewardess took their hand luggage and showed them through the airplane. Besides the big cabin, there was a conference room and, behind that, two sleeping cabins, each with its own bathroom.

Dino shook his head. "The wages of sin," he said under his breath, avoiding Stone's glance.

As if from a great distance, there was the sound of jet engines revving, and almost imperceptibly, the big airplane began to move.

Chapter 2

Somewhere over the Atlantic, Stone stirred in his sleep and turned over, bringing his chest against Dolce's naked back. He reached over her and cupped a breast in his hand, resting his cheek on the back of her neck. With thumb and forefinger, he lightly caressed the nipple.

At that moment, a chime sounded and the soft voice of the stewardess spoke. "Ms. Bianchi, we're two hours from our destination. If you and your party would like breakfast, it will be ready in half an hour."

"I think we're going to be late for breakfast," Stone breathed into Dolce's ear.

She turned over, put her feet on the floor, and stood up. "No, we're not," she said.

"You mean you're spurning your intended?"

"I mean I've decided to be a virgin until we're married."

"Isn't it a little late for that?"

"I can start over whenever I like," she said, "and I've just started over."

Shortly, they joined Dino and Mary Ann at the breakfast table. Scrambled eggs and smoked Italian bacon were set before them.

"That was the best nights sleep I've ever had on an airplane," Dino admitted.

"We didn't sleep all that much," Mary Anne rejoined, poking him in the ribs.

Stone indicated the large moving map at the front of the cabin. "We' re just crossing the Portuguese coast," he said. "Nice tailwind; we're doing over six hundred miles an hour."

The moving map dissolved, and CNN International appeared on the screen.

"Turn that off," Dolce said to the stewardess. "I don't need news for a while.

The stewardess pressed a button, and Vivaldi came softly over hidden speakers. "Better?" she asked.

"Perfect," Dolce said. She turned to Stone and the others. "I have a little announcement," she said.

"Shoot," Stone replied.

"Papa is giving us the Manhattan town house for a wedding present."

Stone stopped eating. His fiancee was referring to a double-width brick-and-granite mansion in the East Sixties that Eduardo Bianchi had built. He took Dolce's hand. "I'm sorry, my dear, but I can't accept that. It's very generous of Eduardo, but I already have a house, and we'll be living there."

"Don't I have any say in where we live?" Dolce asked.

"You've never asked me very much about my background," Stone said, "so it's time I told you about my family."

"I know all about that," Dolce replied.

"Only what you read in the report Eduardo had done on me. It doesn't tell you everything."

"So, tell me everything," she said.

"My parents were both from wealthy textile manufacturing families in western Massachusetts, the Stones and the Barringtons; they knew each other from childhood. Neither of them liked the plans their families had made for them. When the crash came in 'twenty-nine, both families were hit hard, and both had lost their businesses and most their fortunes by the early thirties.