The Gulfstream G650 waited on the tarmac like a sleek, silver predator.
Eunice stepped out of the company car, clutching her handbag tightly against her stomach. The morning sun was already bright, but she felt a cold shiver run down her spine. She had barely slept, spending half the night texting Debby in a panic about how to hide morning sickness on a six-hour flight.
"Ginger chews and prayer," Debby had texted back. "And don't let him smell you."
Eunice took a deep breath, popped a ginger lozenge into her mouth, and climbed the stairs.
Inside, the cabin was more luxurious than any apartment she had ever lived in. Cream-colored leather seats, polished walnut tables, and the faint hum of air conditioning.
Hart Matthew was already seated, his long legs crossed, a tablet in his hand. He didn't look up when she entered.
"You're on time," he murmured, his eyes still glued to the screen. "Sit. The pilot is ready."
Eunice chose the seat furthest from him, across the aisle. She buckled her seatbelt, praying for a smooth takeoff. As the engines roared to life and the plane angled upward, the sensation of gravity pressing down on her made her stomach lurch.
She closed her eyes, breathing through her nose. Don't throw up. Don't throw up. Don't throw up.
Once they reached cruising altitude, the flight attendant—a poised woman named Elena—appeared with a silver tray.
"Champagne, Mr. Matthew?"
"Black coffee," Hart replied. "And bring Miss Vance a glass of Chardonnay. She looks like she needs to relax."
Eunice's eyes snapped open. Alcohol was the last thing she could touch.
"No," she said, a little too quickly.
Hart finally looked up, his brow raised in question. "No?"
"I… I don't drink while working, sir," Eunice lied, her voice tight. "Just water, please. Ice water."
Hart studied her for a moment, his dark eyes scanning her face. "Admirable. But unnecessary. We aren't landing for six hours."
Elena placed a steaming cup of espresso next to Hart. The aroma—strong, bitter, and rich—wafted across the aisle.
Usually, Eunice loved the smell of coffee. But today, with her hormones raging, the scent hit her like a physical blow. It smelled burnt. It smelled like acid.
Her mouth watered excessively—the warning sign.
Oh no.
Eunice unbuckled her seatbelt. "Excuse me."
She stood up and rushed toward the lavatory at the back of the cabin. She barely locked the door before she was heaving over the sink.
She ran the water to mask the sound, her whole body trembling. This was a nightmare. If he heard her, if he suspected…
She splashed cold water on her face, staring at her pale reflection in the mirror. She looked exhausted. She looked guilty.
Knock. Knock.
Eunice froze.
"Eunice?" Hart's voice came through the door. It wasn't his usual commanding tone. It sounded… curious. "Are you alright?"
She grabbed a towel, frantically drying her face. "I'm fine, sir! Just… motion sickness. I'm not used to private jets."
"Open the door."
It wasn't a request.
Eunice took a shaky breath and unlocked the latch. She opened the door a crack.
Hart was standing right there, leaning one hand against the doorframe. In the confined space of the rear cabin, he seemed enormous. He was looking down at her, his expression unreadable.
"You're shaking," he noted.
"It's just a stomach bug," Eunice lied, wrapping her arms around herself. "I'll be fine if I just sit down."
Hart stared at her for a long, agonizing second. Then, unexpectedly, he reached out.
Eunice flinched, but he didn't touch her skin. He placed the back of his hand against her forehead, checking her temperature. His hand was cool, large, and gentle. The contact sent a jolt of electricity straight through her.
"No fever," he muttered, pulling his hand back as if he had been burned. "You're cold."
"I told you, it's just—"
"Go sit down," Hart ordered, stepping back to let her pass. "Elena will bring you a blanket and ginger tea. No more work for you until we land."
Eunice blinked, surprised by the sudden flicker of care. "But the presentation—"
"I said sit down," Hart growled, returning to his cold demeanor instantly. "I don't need my employees collapsing in the Dubai airport. It looks bad for the company image."
Eunice nodded and hurried back to her seat, wrapping herself in the cashmere blanket Elena provided.
As she drifted off to sleep, exhausted by the nausea, she didn't see Hart Matthew watching her from across the aisle. He wasn't looking at his tablet anymore. He was looking at her, a frown creasing his forehead, wondering why the scent of her perfume suddenly made his insomnia feel… lighter.