Amelia stayed in the service cabin longer than necessary.
Her hands weren't steady.
That irritated her.
It was just a mistake.
Just coffee.
Just a fall.
So why did it still feel like something else?
Her waist still remembered his hand.
The pressure of it.
Firm.
Deliberate.
Like he hadn't needed to catch her—
he had chosen to hold her.
She exhaled slowly.
Focus.
That was all she needed.
Finish the flight.
Forget him.
The door opened.
One of his men stood there.
"The boss asked for you."
Her stomach tightened.
Not coffee.
Not service.
Her.
"I'm in the middle of—"
"He asked for you."
The second time wasn't louder.
Just clearer.
Final.
Amelia hesitated.
Just for a second.
This wasn't normal.
Clients didn't request attendants by name.
Clients didn't isolate people.
Clients didn't—
She stopped herself.
She needed this job.
That was the truth.
Her phone buzzed again in her pocket.
She didn't check.
She didn't need to.
Hospital.
Again.
Another reminder.
Another payment.
Her jaw tightened.
"Fine."
She smoothed her uniform unconsciously, then stepped back into the cabin.
And immediately felt it.
That shift.
The same one from earlier.
Only sharper now.
Because this time—
it was focused on her.
Marco was already looking at her.
Not casually.
Not briefly.
Waiting.
The two men from before were still seated across from him.
But not for long.
Marco didn't look away as she approached.
"Leave."
One word.
Both men stood instantly.
No hesitation.
No confusion.
They walked away without a glance in her direction.
Now it was just her.
And him.
Too quiet.
Too deliberate.
Too intentional.
Amelia stopped a few feet away.
"Yes, sir?"
"Come closer."
Her pulse shifted.
She didn't move immediately.
That was a mistake.
Because his gaze didn't change.
Didn't soften.
Didn't repeat.
It simply stayed on her—
waiting.
She stepped forward.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Close enough now that she could feel the weight of his presence.
Close enough that the air felt different.
"Stop."
She did.
Exactly where he wanted her.
Of course.
"What's your name?"
"Amelia."
He repeated it.
Slowly.
Like he was testing the way it sounded.
"Amelia."
Something about that made her chest tighten.
"You're new."
"Yes."
"You make a habit of falling into people?"
Heat rose instantly.
"I apologized."
"You did."
Silence stretched.
Heavy.
Controlled.
"You're uncomfortable."
"I'm working."
"That wasn't an answer."
"You don't know me."
"And yet you react to me."
That hit.
Hard.
Because it was true.
And she hated that he could see it.
"That's not my problem."
"No," he said calmly. "It's mine."
Her phone buzzed again.
This time louder.
Insistent.
Her fingers twitched slightly.
Just slightly.
His eyes dropped.
Not to her face.
To her pocket.
Then back up again.
"You're distracted."
"I'm not."
"You are."
She didn't answer.
Because denying it felt pointless.
Because something told her—
he already knew.
His hand moved.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Not sudden.
Not aggressive.
Just… inevitable.
His fingers closed lightly around her wrist.
Not tight.
Not painful.
But firm enough that she couldn't pretend it wasn't happening.
Her breath caught.
"Stay still."
Her body obeyed before her mind caught up.
And that was worse.
The contact was minimal.
Controlled.
But it did something to her.
Something she didn't like.
Something she didn't understand.
Her pulse quickened.
Her shoulders tensed.
She tried to pull back—
just slightly.
His grip didn't tighten.
Didn't need to.
It stayed exactly the same.
That calm control.
Like resistance didn't matter.
Like he had already accounted for it.
"You react," he said quietly.
"I don't."
"You do."
Her jaw tightened.
"You're imagining things."
"Am I?"
His thumb shifted slightly.
Barely.
Still enough to make her aware of every inch of contact.
"Look at me."
She was already looking at him.
But something about the way he said it—
made it feel like she hadn't been.
Like he wanted more.
More attention.
More awareness.
More of her than she was willing to give.
Her chest tightened.
"I should go."
"You can."
He released her.
Just like that.
No resistance.
No force.
Freedom.
But it didn't feel like freedom.
Because she knew—
he had chosen to let go.
Not that she had escaped.
Amelia stepped back immediately.
Too fast.
She didn't try to hide it this time.
She turned.
Walked away.
Not running.
But close.
Her heart was beating too fast.
Her skin felt too aware.
Her thoughts too loud.
Inside the service cabin, she exhaled sharply.
What was that?
That wasn't normal.
That wasn't professional.
That wasn't—
Her phone buzzed again.
She grabbed it this time.
Hospital.
Payment overdue.
Her chest tightened.
She closed her eyes briefly.
Then locked the screen without responding.
Focus.
She needed to focus.
Finish the flight.
Get paid.
That was all that mattered.
Nothing else.
Not him.
Not the way he looked at her.
Not the way her body reacted.
Not the way—
No.
She shook her head slightly.
This would end when the flight ended.
That was how this worked.
It had to be.
When the plane landed, Amelia stayed out of his sight as much as possible.
She didn't go near him.
Didn't speak.
Didn't look.
She waited until he left.
Listened to the sound of footsteps.
The door.
Silence.
Gone.
Good.
That was good.
That meant it was over.
In the car, Marco sat back without speaking.
His attention wasn't on the road.
Or his men.
Or the shipment.
Not fully.
It was on something else.
Someone else.
Amelia Hart.
He replayed it once.
The hesitation.
The reaction.
The way she tried to pull back—
and failed to hide it.
Interesting.
Controlled.
But not unaffected.
That was the difference.
Marco didn't chase reactions.
He created them.
And she had given him one.
That was enough.
For now.
He picked up his phone.
Opened her file again.
Then closed it.
Decision already made.
She told herself it was just a flight.
Just a client.
Just something she would forget.
Marco had already decided otherwise.
And this time—
he wasn't going to leave it to chance.