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“You want my phone and then you want me to do some fucking TikTok trend?” I growl, throwing my head back.

She folds her hands in mock-prayer and blinks rapidly.

“Just one. Please. One trend. And I promise I’ll bring your phone back when we’re done here.”

I let out a long breath, dragging a hand over my jaw.

“Okay. Just one. And you take care of my phone. Use it only for videos, don’t open anything else,” I sigh, frustrated.

She nods eagerly. And before I know it, I’m being pulled by Aiden and Chase into a couple of clips—something about a trending dance and a few dumb poses. I go along with it, half-annoyed, half-amused, fully aware this shit’ll probably end up on the team’s socials before we land.

After two takes, I step away, running a hand through my hair. “That was enough.”

“Come on, man. One more,” Chase says, grinning.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “I’m gonna grab a bottle of water. Just drop the phone off at my seat when you’re done, okay?”

The media girl nods, looking me in the eyes, then directs someone else for the next shot.

I shake my head, chuckling under my breath as I walk back down the aisle. I can already hear Sierra teasing me once she sees the clips. “My husband, TikTok star.”

Yeah, she’ll definitely have some words to say. And fuck, I can’t wait to hear every single one of them.

About half an hour later, the plane is cruising steadily through the sky. I’ve got my headphones on, half-watching a game replay on the small screen in front of me, when a shadow falls over my seat.

I look up—and there she is. Samantha. Wearing her ever-present smirk, she’s holding my phone between her fingers like it’s fragile.

“Thanks for the phone,” she purrs, her tone thick with something she probably thinks is flirtation. “Figured I should return it before I got too tempted to scroll through your private staff.”

I stiffen instantly, every muscle in my body going tense. But before I can answer, Aiden—seated next to me—leans forward with a frown.

“What are you even doing here? You’re the GM’s assistant. You’re not supposed to travel with us.”

Samantha doesn’t even blink. She ignores Aiden’s questions, eyes still fixed on me.

“Well,” she says, her voice sugary sweet and laced with sarcasm, “good luck with Sierra. Have a nice relationship.”

She places the phone in my open hand and turns, walking back up the aisle like she didn’t just cross a line she won’t be able to come back from.

My jaw tightens. I stare at my phone, throat dry, then swipe—texts, photos, recent apps. Everything looks untouched.

Still, something coils in my chest. A sharp, angry heat that simmers low and dangerous.

“What the fuck is wrong with that bitch?” Chase mutters from his seat.

I don’t answer right away. I’m still watching the screen, trying to breathe through the tension. But my voice is calm when it comes out—too calm.

“I think it’s time to make some changes,” I say, already knowing she won’t have a job anymore in about an hour.

THIRTY-THREE

Sierra

It’s Saturday afternoon. Sunlight spills lazily through the tall windows of my apartment, bathing the marble floors in gold.

Suitcases are stacked by the hallway, boxes labeled with thick black marker are lined neatly against the wall, and Thalia and I are sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, surrounded by the last few clothing items that still need folding.

“I still can’t believe you’re actually moving,” Thalia says, her voice tinged with something between disbelief and sadness, smoothing a silk blouse before tucking it into a suitcase with care. “From seeing each other almost every day… to what? Once a month? Maybe even less?