WRITER'S POV:
The next 24 hours were a blur of uniform changes, lukewarm coffee, and small talk Ivy couldn't remember initiating. The cargo incident haunted her, its eerie silence more deafening than any in-flight turbulence. Every time she blinked, she saw the tattoo again—that coiled serpent, the looping Latin, the quiet confirmation that something massive was unfolding right under her perfectly powdered nose.
Marcie noticed immediately."You're staring into space again," she said, sliding a grilled cheese onto Ivy's plate. "Is the mafia boyfriend texting you telepathically, or should I check for a fever?"Ivy blinked. "I saw something on the flight. Like... government weird. And someone had his tattoo."Marcie froze mid-bite. "Tattoo?"Ivy nodded slowly. "The snake. The Latin."Marcie dropped her grilled cheese. "Girl, are you in a Nicolas Cage movie? What do you mean you saw his tattoo in the cargo hold?"Ivy couldn't explain it. Not the cargo. Not the weird behavior. And definitely not the sensation that she'd just stepped into a storyline she hadn't auditioned for. She was just a flight attendant. A new one. A floating speck in the corporate skies. But lately, it felt like someone had turned a flashlight on her in the middle of a covert operation.So naturally, the universe decided that was the perfect time for Cassius Black to reappear.Two days later, Ivy was reassigned. The airline had shuffled her into a new program—luxury private charters. A perk, they said. Special access. Classier clientele. Higher tips.More security checks.More secrecy.More Cassius Black.She didn't realize it until she boarded. The jet was sleek, minimalist, and smelled like imported leather and decisions made in silence. She had barely glanced at the manifest—which she now regretted deeply—when she stepped into the cabin and her stomach dropped.There he was.Cassius Black.Wearing dark sunglasses despite the cloudy skies outside, collar crisp, expression unreadable. Sitting like the cabin was his throne and turbulence would be punished for disobedience.Jason was already smirking. Monday raised a brow in exaggerated recognition."Look who it is," Jason murmured as Ivy passed, voice low but unmistakable. "Miss Hydration Station."Monday grinned. "Careful, Ivy. That tray might spontaneously combust."She froze mid-step. Her name. They—they knew her name. It wasn't on her badge today. And she hadn't spoken yet.Her throat went dry. She forced a polite smile and kept moving, but every nerve in her body was screaming.She didn't trust her vocal cords, so she gave a professional nod and power-walked back to the galley, cheeks flaming.Cassius didn't say a word.But when she glanced back, just once, she caught it.He was watching her.Not hungrily. Not flirtatiously.But like she was an unfinished chapter.And he hated loose ends.It wasn't until halfway through the flight that she had to return with a glass of wine for Cassius. She approached with carefully measured steps, tray balanced, heart hammering. Jason gave a dramatic sigh like it was a romantic comedy, and Monday just shook his head in exaggerated pity.Cassius didn't look up."You can leave the wine on the table," he said quietly. "Don't hand it to me."She blinked. "Excuse me?"His voice was calm. Even. But there was tension in the way he sat, elbows close, fingers twitching like they didn't trust themselves."Just set it down. Don't hand it to me." His deep voice muttered.She obeyed, placing the glass on the table beside him with robotic precision.She didn't ask why.But she knew. He didn't want to touch her. Or more terrifyingly, he didn't trust himself not to touch her.The air between them stretched. Thick. Wordless.She turned and walked away, pretending her heart hadn't cracked a little.Half of her felt like she'd just been dismissed by a stranger. The other half was bizarrely relieved. Like his rejection had validated her obsession. His restraint only made her more curious.And why was she obsessed with his hand? What kind of gremlin crush made her want to memorize the pattern of a man's knuckles?The door clicked shut behind her as she entered the galley. She leaned back against the panel, exhaled slowly."Okay," she whispered. "So this is my life now. Cool. Mafia hand trauma. Great."And outside, just beyond that thin door, three men sat in silence—the boss, the cousin, and the devil in a hoodie named Monday.All of them knew her name.And Ivy had a sinking feeling she'd be seeing them again.