I know who it is before I turn my head.
His cologne reaches me first, cedar and restraint and something darker beneath it. The kind of scent that doesn’t announce itself. It lingers. It claims.
“Long time no see.”
Am I imagining this?
Yuri settles into seat 2B with effortless ease, already buckling his seatbelt, posture composed and relaxed like he planned it. His jaw is sharp, his expression unreadable.
He should not be this attractive. It’s unfair.
“Ages,” I say, keeping my tone light. Sarcasm is my armor when my body reacts without permission. “How have you been, Yuri?”
His mouth curves, slow and amused. “Better. Now.”
I sense the meaning behind the words and it sends a thrill through me.
“How’s your wrist?” he asks.
“It could be worse, thanks to you,” I say with a cool grin.
Yuri presses his lips together, holding back a wider smile, and I’m briefly mesmerized by the glint of amusement in his grey eyes.
It’s as if the sun is about to rise and shine in them after a long, turbulent snow.
A pause follows. Not awkward. Charged.
The plane doors close. The cabin quiets.
I feel Yuri’s gaze on me and my body tightens.
“You’re anxious,” he says.
Right, again.
Who the hell is this man?
“I can’t help admire your observant nature, Yuri.”
“Occupational hazard.”
His eyes are locked on me, now, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to settle my body down.
“Of what occupation?”
He smiles, slow and private. “One that requires paying attention to details.”
The engines rumble beneath us, a deep vibration threading through the floor and into my bones. The plane begins to taxi. I grip the armrests like they’re lifelines.
“You don’t like flying.”
“What’s not to like about being locked in a metal box forty thousand feet above the ground?”
His tone stays calm, deliberate. “If flying were truly dangerous, powerful people wouldn’t trust their lives to it.”
Power. Certainly something this man knows plenty about.
“Well.” I force my voice light. “It’s comforting to know at least one of us is completely in control.”
