The sound of the jet's engine infiltrated the airport as it taxied to a stop, its white surface glinting in the sunlight as it came to a halt. After a moment, the stairs lowered as Arcangelo stepped out of the interior, walking down the stairs as a Rolls Royce stood awaiting him.
"Welcome to America, Mr. Regnante." The man, his escort, spoke with a polite smile and a professional stance. "I hope your flight was alright."
"Yes, it went well," Arcangelo informed as he turned on his phone, glancing at the lack of messages and calls before slipping it into his blazer's pocket.
"If you will, the car will be taking you to your hotel."
With a nod, he approached the car, one of the men opening the back door for him as he settled down, the doors closing and bathing the interior in the dimness.
