The sky was black velvet, threaded with silver stars and the faint hum of power. Inside the Voss private jet, everything gleamed. Gold accents lined the cream leather seats, the scent of aged whiskey mingled with cedar, and silence reigned like a crown.
Damon Voss sat near the window, a tablet in hand, scrolling through a dozen open tabs — stock updates, encrypted messages, security briefings. His attention didn't linger on any of them. Not really.
He wasn't reading; he was waiting.
For what, he didn't know.
Across from him, Jenna Dobrick was curled in one of the recliners, wrapped in a cashmere blanket, her head resting against the seat. Her blonde hair spilled over the pillow like sunlight caught in silk. Even in sleep, she was beautiful — the kind of beauty that demanded attention.
And yet, he felt nothing.
The Zurich tabloids had done their work. Zurich's Power Couple: Damon Voss and Jenna Dobrick Spotted in a Romantic Stroll.
It was everywhere — gossip columns, finance pages, social media trends. Exactly what he'd wanted.
A distraction.
The illusion of interest.
He clicked to the next tab — a secured email chain titled PROJECT SERPENT. His contact in Zurich had sent the newest report: more digital traces leading back to 2010, a name partially redacted, a transaction linked to his father's offshore holdings.
It wasn't proof, not yet. But it was something.
Damon's gaze lingered on the screen. His father's sins ran deep — and now, Elara Quin's curiosity was starting to stir the ashes.
He leaned back, eyes half-lidded, the low rumble of the engines filling the silence. The faint turbulence almost soothed him.
Then, his phone buzzed.
He didn't have to check the caller ID. "Alex," he said as he answered.
"Did I wake you, or are you still brooding at thirty thousand feet?"
Damon's lips twitched faintly. "Both."
Alex's laughter filtered through the static. "You've seen the headlines, right? Zurich's golden couple, Hollywood beauty and the billionaire reclusive CEO — I'm shocked you haven't burned the internet down yet."
"I expected the coverage," Damon said simply.
"Expected it? Damon, you staged it. Half my feeds are just your face and hers. You realize people think you're finally human now?"
"Good," Damon replied. "That's exactly what I want them to think."
Alex hummed. "Including her?"
He didn't need to say the name.
Damon's silence was his answer.
"Ah," Alex said, smug. "So this is about her. What's the intern's name again? Elara, right? Tell me, Voss—does she know she's being used as your psychological experiment?"
"Watch your words," Damon said quietly. "She's… useful."
"Useful?" Alex snorted. "You talk about people like chess pieces."
"That's because they are."
"Even Jenna?"
"She's a distraction," Damon said flatly.
There was a muffled laugh through the speaker. "Well, I'll be damned—does the distraction know she's being used?"
"She doesn't need to."
A soft voice cut through his words. "She doesn't need to what?"
Damon turned his head slightly. Jenna was awake, her eyes half open, her tone teasing but a little sharper than usual.
Alex's laughter filled the call again. "Ah, speak of the angelic distraction."
"Alex," she said, smiling sleepily. "Still running your mouth, I see."
"Guilty as charged. You two lovebirds keeping warm up there?"
Damon shot him a look that could curdle blood, but Jenna chuckled. "You know Damon doesn't do warm, Alex. He only does controlled temperature."
Alex laughed so hard he had to cough. "See? She gets it!"
Jenna stretched, graceful and unbothered, pulling the blanket tighter. "So, what are you two plotting now? Global domination or emotional repression?"
Damon took a slow sip of his drink. "Both."
"Figures," she said, rolling her eyes but smiling.
"Hey, Jenna," Alex said, his voice playful, "you might be the first woman in history to get him on a plane with company. That's progress."
"Don't give her ideas," Damon said dryly.
"I don't need ideas," Jenna said, meeting his gaze. "I already have patience."
Her tone was half flirtation, half challenge. Damon said nothing, only set his drink down, the ice clinking faintly.
Alex, sensing the tension, whistled. "Well, I'll leave you two in your controlled temperature zone. Call me when you're back on solid ground.Goodbye cousin, Damon. "
"Goodbye, Alex," Damon said before ending the call.
Jenna chuckled softly. "He's insufferable."
"He's honest," Damon replied.
She studied him for a long moment, the hum of the engines the only sound between them. "You know, sometimes I wonder if you even like me."
He looked at her. "You're a friend."
"Friends don't buy each other Cartier bracelets in Zurich."
"That was for the photographers."
The way he said it—calm, detached—made something inside her deflate. She looked away, staring at the endless dark sky beyond the glass.
"I hope whatever you're trying to prove is worth it," she said quietly.
Damon's voice was low, but final. "It always is."
The plane touched down in L.A. just before dawn.
The runway lights gleamed across the tarmac, the skyline flickering in gold and silver as the sun began to climb.
When the cabin doors opened, flashes erupted — paparazzi already waiting. Damon stepped out first, composed, unreadable, the chill of Zurich still clinging to his expression. Jenna followed gracefully, smiling at the cameras like she was born under a spotlight.
Their car pulled away minutes later, tinted glass separating them from the chaos outside.
"You know," she said, her voice light, "people are already calling me Mrs. Voss online."
He glanced at her. "Let them."
"That's it?" she asked, frowning. "You don't care what they say?"
"I care when it stops serving me."
"Serving you," she repeated, her voice cooling. "Right."
He didn't correct her.
The silence that followed stretched thin and quiet, like the surface of still water.
Across the city, Elara Quin sat in the back seat of Stella's car, scrolling through her phone. The news headline hit her like a slap.
Zurich's Power Couple Returns to Los Angeles.
A photo of Damon and Jenna, side by side, flawless and untouchable.
Stella practically squealed. "Oh my God, they look perfect together! Can you imagine being her? Look at that dress, that jet, that man—"
Elara shut off her phone, her pulse unsteady. "You talk too much."
"Oh, come on," Stella teased. "You have to admit it—Damon Voss is… whew."
"He's my boss," Elara muttered.
"Your very, very attractive boss."
Elara didn't respond. She stared out the window, the city blurring past. Her chest felt tight, not with jealousy, but with something more dangerous — awareness.
He was playing her. She could feel it. The email, the timing, the photos. None of it was coincidence. Damon Voss didn't do coincidence.
When she arrived at the office, Stella peeled off to grab coffee while Elara headed to her desk. The computer blinked to life, and almost immediately, a new email popped up.
Subject: Zurich – 2010.
Sender: [email protected]
Her stomach flipped. She opened it.
> If you want answers, follow the trail where it began.
Voss Technologies. Zurich Branch.
Her fingers went cold.
"Are you okay?" Stella asked, appearing beside her.
"Yeah," Elara said quickly, shutting the email. "Just… tired."
But she wasn't. She was wide awake.
That night, in his penthouse high above the city, Damon Voss stood by the window, sleeves rolled up, the skyline painting his reflection in fractured gold.
He poured himself a drink, phone buzzing beside him — a message from his investigator: Email delivered. She opened it.
He smiled faintly. The plan was unfolding. Every move she made, every step she took closer to the truth, brought her exactly where he wanted her.
And yet,
The image of her face wouldn't leave him. The defiance. The fire. The way she looked at him like she saw straight through his armor.
For the first time, Damon wasn't sure who was truly leading the game.
He raised the glass to his lips, eyes still fixed on the glittering city below.
The higher you fly, the harder you fall—and Damon Voss had just given her wings.