Annabeth's POV

A few days later, I was rolling my carry-on suitcase to my office, ready to board a flight and head to Italy with Nico.

We were going to do an in-person check on the Nightshade Estate in Tuscany, and we'd be accompanied by the Executive Manager of Imperial Findindings—the company responsible for sourcing the luxury materials used inside most of our hotels.

The Executive Manager was Calivn Walters, and while I'd never met him in person, we'd exchanged enough emails over the past few months for me to get to know him.

I could tell he was smart, but I also knew he was charming. And successful businessmen who were smart and charming rarely made for polite travel companions.

"There you are," Nico said from behind my desk, as I rolled my suitcase to a halt. He was seated in my chair.

I checked my watch. "It's not even seven yet. I'm early. Where's your stuff? And what are you doing in my—?"

"I can't come on the trip. You'll be taking over for me, being my eyes and ears."

"What do you mean, you don't come? This is the final check-in before the orders are placed, before we make the final hires for the supplements!"

Nico eyed me. "Who do you think you're reminding here?"

That was when I noticed the scruff on his usually clean-shaven cheeks, and the redness of his eyes. "Sorry," I said. "Is everything okay?" I pushed my suitcase to the wall and took a seat in the guest chair.

"Everything's fine."

"Nico, I know I'm just your controversial new hire, but you can tell me, you know, if something's wrong? I'm happy to pick up whatever slack needs to be picked up but I really don't like operating in the dark…"

"It's Reyna," he let out with a sigh. Reyna, as in, his finacee. His newly pregnant finacee.

"Is she okay?" I asked, leaning forward. My concern was genuine. Though I'd never met Reyna, from all that I knew about her, she seemed like a wonderful person. She might've been from the same world of privilege as Nico and might've even dabbled in a beauty pageant or two, but she wasn't all just blonde hair and Chanel purses.

Nico exhaled again. "I think so. The doctor said everything looked normal, that we shouldn't worrying…"

"But…?"

"But she's been bleeding. Not a lot, and not all the time, but it started a few days ago, and it freaked her out. She's been hiding under her duvet for seventy-two hours, and I just…I have to stay here. I know it's a big job for you to do by yourself, but I'll have my phone with me at all times—"

"Don't be crazy, Nico."

"And if you need anything, have any questions—I don't care how stupid they are–call me."

"Nico. Stop it. Go to your fiancee. I'll be fine."

He glanced at me, his eyebrows half-raised like he was expecting me to put up a bigger fight. Or maybe he was expecting himself to hesitate a little more before passing the reins over.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"I got it. Seriously."

"Cool." He nodded, standing up. "Thanks, Annabeth."

"Don't mention it."

"Oh, and Calvin's outside already. He's waiting in the car. The two of you are flying on the Jackson jet.

I nodded. "Right," I said, watching as Nico walked out of my office.

"Have fun! But not too much," he called over his shoulder.

When he was down the hall, I let the breath I was holding out. The . Jackson, Goddamn. Jet.

I ate Oreos for dinner last night, and now I was flying private to Tuscany. Sometimes, life wasn't so bad.

"You haven't said a word."

Calvin Walters smiled at me from the other side of the stretch limo. Because a normal town car, or even a Range Rover, would've been too declassee for him. I look up from my planner in my lap.

"Sorry. I have a lot on my mind."

"Do tell."

I stared at him. He was Executive Manager of the UK's biggest hotel materials company, and he didn't look older than thirty. He had sharp black hair and crystal blue eyes, and he wore the kind of confidence no girl was immune to.

And yet, there was something about him that made me…suspicious.

"I've just never been to Tuscany. To Italy at all, actually. And now, I'm going to look at a property and suggest exactly what it needs. It;s a little bit of a whirlwind," I said, maybe too honestly. But Calvin just slid across the sears until he was beside me.

"Don't worry, doll, you have me by your side, And I'm quite good at what I do."

"Are you?"

He smiled the most self-assured smile I'd ever seen. "You have no idea. Now, come on. Let's celebrate," he said, opening a hidden mini fridge door and pulling out a bottle of champagne.

"It's not even seven-thirty in the morning!"

"Hey! You wanna get to know Italians? This is how you get to know Italians," he said, popping the cork like a pro. I watched the steam rise from the bottle and couldn't help but laugh as he poured me a glass.

"To Tuscany," he said, clinking his flute against mine.

"To Tuscany," I responded, bringing the glass to my lips. The liquid burned its way down my throat in the most pleasurable way, and as I took another sip, I could already feel the bubbles moving in my head.

This is why adults don't exist on just Oreos, I chided myself. But, then Calvin was refilling my glass, and my negative thoughts evaporated.

"So tell me, Annabeth, what do you do for fun?"

"For fun?"

"Mm," he murmured, his eyes locked on mine.

I suddenly felt a little claustrophobic. I sat up straighter, pulling my pencil skirt further down my legs, and cleared my throat.

"I think we really stick to the business plan," I said, tapping my planner, I still had open in my lap. "There are some things I'd like to ask you, given your expertise, so that when we get there, we have a clear plan of attack."

"Plan of attack?" he laughed.

I nodded. "I want to be as informed as possible, Calvin. Starting with the exclusive suites and working our way to the twin rooms, I'd like for each room on the property to be fully designed by the time we leave on Monday."

"You're awfully ambitious."

"I've been told."

"Well, that's no problem for me, doll. I'll have it all broken down before you can say per favore.

I gave him a quick nod. "Great. Perfect."

"You wanna start now?"

"Start…now?" I repeated like an idiot—but I was confused, and the champagne had gone straight for my head.

He let out a chuckle, patting my knee. "You're really something. Yes, start now. I can give you a rundown on how I usually appraise rooms, so when we get there, you're less of a fish out of water."

"Right. Sure."

"Let's start with the beds," he declared, looking right at me. "When I walk into a bedroom, no matter what kind of bedroom, I look right at the bed first. The bed tells the story. Do you agree?"

"Okay, yeah. I guess that makes sense…"

"It makes all the sense. Look at it this way: no matter if you've gone to your room to rest, to sleep, to fuck, you're there for the bed. That's it, case closed."

I eyed him, trying to conceal my surprise at his crudeness. I didn't want him to think I was some sensitive lady—hell, I was the furthest thing from a sensitive lady—but I also didn't want him to keep talk about fucking.

"You've made your point, Calvin. The beds the mark. So, what's next?"

He raised his eyebrows at me. "So, next, doll, you have to make the bed stand out. It's your responsibility to the room. The bed is the nipple of the room, you must grab all focus to it. And contrary to popular beliefs, size doesn't matter,: he said with a wink.

Wow. Nipples, dick references, and a wink to cap it all off. Calvin Walters was certainly a gentleman.

"So, you're saying, the bigger the better?" I asked innocently. I was going to beat this cocky businessman at his own game.

"Well, that depends now," he said, inching closer to me. "On the size of the room, on how cluttered it is with other accouterments…You don't want the room to feel too filled-up, because that makes the guests feel…excluded."

"Right, and we can;t have the guests feeling excluded in their own room."

"Now you're getting it. So, we choose the bed that is the most captivating but also the most inviting. It's not just the room's nipple—now, it's the guest's nipple, too."

I was just about to blurt out some congratulatory quip for him for using the word nipple a record number of times in one sentence, but just then, the limo came to a stop. The driver lowered the dividing panel. "Mr. Walters, we're on the tarmac."

"Jets ready?" Calvin asked.

"They gave me the okay," the driver replied.

"Perfecto. Shall we?" he asked me, and I nodded, closing my planner.

As I climbed out of the limo I stepped onto the tarmac, it felt like one of those once-in-a-lifetime moments you never forget. Because there I was, next to a stretch limousine, a private jet a few yards away from me. And there was the driver, pulling my luggage onto the plane.

"Doll, you coming? Do you want a picture or something?" Calvin chuckled. He'd already started toward the jet and was walking backwards now, laughing at my dumbfounded expression.

I took a deep breath.

This is your life now. You handle douchebag businessmen. You fly private. Get used to it, Annabeth Chase.

"I'm coming. Don't get your panties in a twist," I replied, after closing the distance and stepping past him, starting up the stairs of the jet. I felt a wave of pride swell through me. I handled him, and I walked up the stairs without tripping.

I was on my first goddamn jet! And it was beautiful!

It was all beige interiors with gold paneling and the stewardess greeted me with the kindest smile I'd ever seen. "Good morning, Ms. Chase. Take any seat you'd like."

As I turn into the cabin, my mind is reeling. It was all perfect. Too perfect. I didn't deserve it. Everything was too goddamn luxurious–but then, my breath caught in my throat, and tingles shot through every cell in my body.

My rose-colored glasses disappeared.

It's too perfect. Because there, seated in a beige colored leather seat, looking as blissed-out and handsome as fucking ever, was Percy Jackson.

His eyes closed, and he was wearing an eggshell white sweater. Cashmere. His dark jeans looked effortlessly hip as his tousled hair and lazy smirk on his face.

"Welcome aboard, Annie," he said right to me, even though his eyes were still closed. Not that it'd make a difference if they were open. I reminded myself.

"How…how'd you—?"

"What, you really think my brother would send you on a trip like this one alone?" he asked, his smirl turning into a smile. "Come on, grab a seat." He patted the seat beside his.

I heard Calvin's footsteps climbing up the stairs behind me, but I was frozen. My mind was spinning faster now—way faster. I wasn't just about to go on the most important trip of my professional career, but I was about to go to Italy with two men.

One man who was cocky and lascivious, but who I'd need in order to do my job. And another man who was cocky and sexy as hell—who I'd need to stay away from so I could do my job.

"Doll, what's the hold-up?" Calvin asked from behind me. He nudged me forward, until I was an arms reach away from Percy. I squeezed my eyes shut just for a moment. A weekend in Tuscany. It couldn't be so bad.

But then, Percy grabbed my hand and pulled me into the seat beside his. "Let me guess, you've never been to Tuscany," he whispered into my ear. Chills ripped through me, and I could feel heat burning between my legs. Before I could respond, he whispered something else. "You'll love it, mio piccolo topo." And then, the plane started to move.

Please give feedback and tell me what you think of the story so far.