“See you around, Antonov,” he says, then disappears down the aisle and up the stairs to business class.
I exhale slowly, relief and irritation battling for space in my chest. At least we’re on separate floors. Out of sight is safer—for both Bella and my temper.
I finish my drink, give the attendant a nod, and head back down the aisle. As I approach my suite, I let my gaze linger on Bella for a heartbeat longer than necessary. She’s watching the window, unaware of the storm that just passed through.
I settle in, buckle up, and try to pretend—for now—that this flight is just another business trip.
But I know better.
With Bella and Kirov on board, nothing about this night will be simple.
3
BELLA
The cabin is settling,lights dimming for takeoff. Lily is tucked beside me, head heavy on my arm, but my mind won’t settle, not after seeing Aleksander again. Even when he’s not beside me, I feel his presence—like static in the air, a low hum I can’t ignore.
I keep replaying that moment when he leaned in, his voice low and sharp, so close I could feel his breath on my lips. God, the pull between us hasn’t faded at all. If anything, it’s worse. He’s still Aleksander—dangerous, magnetic, and impossible to read. If anything, the years have made him even more handsome.
I glance down the aisle, searching for him, but he’s gone. The ache of wanting, of not knowing, twists inside me. Where did he go?
I think of the other man—the one two rows ahead, who kept glancing over with a heavy sort of interest that made my skin crawl. There was something off about him, something predatory. And for a second, right before Aleksander disappeared, I saw the way they looked at each other—cold, tense. Aleksander looked almost…angry. Protective, even.
Who is he? What kind of history do they share? The memory of Aleksander’s jaw tightening, the way his shoulders squared when he saw that man, flashes behind my eyes. Was it jealousy? Or something more dangerous?
The engines rumble, the jet starts to taxi, and I pull Lily a little closer. I can’t shake the sense that whatever I’ve gotten myself into, it’s more complicated than I ever imagined.
Lily drifts off halfway through a cartoon, her hand still tangled in my sleeve, soft breaths fogging the screen of her tablet. I brush the curls from her forehead, feeling the tension finally seep out of her little body. She’s out cold; she’ll sleep for hours.
The cabin is hushed, lights set to a gentle golden glow. Outside, nothing but darkness and distant city lights, a world suspended above the clouds.
I need to stretch my legs. Maybe breathe air that isn’t perfumed and pressurized. Part of me wants to find Aleksander—ask him outright if this whole thing is some sort of elaborate joke—but that would mean admitting I want to see him again, and I’m not ready for that. Not yet.
Instead, I slip from my seat and follow a discreet sign pointing toward the first-class lounge. The hallway curves, carpet thick underfoot, every surface gleaming. I feel suddenly out of place, acutely aware of my sneakers, my ponytail, the faint smear of Lily’s applesauce on my sleeve.
The lounge itself is surreal—plush chairs, a real bar with bottles glowing behind glass, a wall of windows framing the night sky. A bowl of macarons sits on a marble table, next to a vase of fresh orchids. I feel like I’ve stepped into a movie set or someone else’s dream.
How could I possibly afford this? My heart lurches with suspicion. No. There’s no way Aleksander meant it when he joked about pulling strings for my ticket. That would be insane, right? It’s probably just luck—a cancelled seat, a cosmic coincidence. That’s all. Except things like that don’t happen to people like me.
I drift further inside, running my fingers over a leather armrest, half expecting someone to tap me on the shoulder and ask to see my boarding pass.
I’m so lost in the wonder of it all that I nearly jump when a man appears in my path—tall, broad, with a heavy jaw and eyes that don’t smile. His suit is expensive, his cologne overwhelming. He leans a little too close, lips curling into something that isn’t quite a smile.
His posture makes me shrink a little, shoulders tense. There’s something about his eyes that sets me instantly on edge.
He blocks my path with an easy, entitled confidence. “Couldn’t sleep either?” he asks, his voice slick, like he’s trying for charm but overshoots into something colder.
I try to sidestep. “Just stretching my legs. Beautiful lounge, isn’t it?” I add, voice too bright.
He doesn’t move. Instead, he lets his gaze linger—too long, too openly. “You here with someone?” His eyes flick to my bare left hand, then back to my face.
I clutch the edge of a chair, forcing a polite smile. “Just traveling with my daughter,” I say, hoping the mention will put him off.
But he just smirks, unconcerned. “Long flight for such a pretty passenger to be alone,” he says, his tone soft but insinuating. “Maybe you’d like some company?”
I stiffen, nerves jangling. “No, thank you. I was just heading back?—”
He takes half a step closer, his body language shifting from casual to predatory, and I can feel the pulse in my throat quicken.
