Page 71 of Heartless Stepbrother
And I knew, deep in the cold, shaking center of my chest, that the flight ahead of us was not travel.
It was a battlefield.
A confined one.
A flying cage.
Thirty thousand feet where no one could intervene, no one could overhear, no one could save me from what he intended to do with the power he now held.
He shifted slightly beside me, the leather creaking.
In the reflection of the window, I saw his smile.
Slow.
Satisfied.
An omen of the two weeks ahead.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
LUNA
Theprivatejetwaitedfor us like a creature coiled in the sun. Sleek and silver, it crouched on the edge of the tarmac, its nose angled toward the wide sky as if impatient to take flight. Its body glinted under the pale morning light, all polished metal and quiet menace.
It was beautiful in the way dangerous things are beautiful. A predator dressed in elegance.
The hum of its engines was constant, low, and alive. Not loud enough to demand attention, but impossible to ignore. It pulsed through the soles of my shoes, into my bones, a mechanical heartbeat that belonged to Riley’s world. A world that ran on speed, wealth, and power.
Behind me, my battered suitcase was carried onto the jet by an indifferent baggage handler. Its scuffed fabric and fraying seams were an insult to the immaculate skin of the aircraft. I felt the insult too, because it was me. I was the mismatch.
The air was warm on the asphalt, and the smell of jet fuel clung to it, sharp and chemical. My steps slowed despite myself, dread pooling thick in my stomach. Every pace toward the open door felt like another pace into something I would never be able to walk back from.
There was no one else on the tarmac. No other passengers hurrying to board. No cluster of strangers to disappear into. Just me. Riley. And a flight crew who existed like shadows, trained to look without seeing, to hear without listening. Their silence was not courtesy. It was allegiance.
Inside, the cabin was both small and infinite.
Cream leather seats sat in polished pairs, each curve and seam perfect. Mahogany tables gleamed under the overhead lights, their surfaces too flawless to touch without leaving a mark. The air smelled faintly of fresh polish, leather, and something chemical and clean from the sterilization. Everything whispered exclusivity, intimacy, confinement.
There was no corner to disappear into. No space where I could angle my body and pretend he wasn’t there. This wasn’t like the car, where the driver’s presence had been a thin shield between us. Here, there was no shield at all.
The flight attendant’s smile was polite but hollow, the kind of smile that lived on duty alone. She gestured toward two seats across from each other, a neat little table between them. My heart lifted for a fragile second. I could have space, distance, a small slice of autonomy.
Riley stepped past me and ruined it instantly.
“No,” he said smoothly, not even glancing at the attendant. “We’ll take the pair in the back.”
Her smile didn’t falter, but it dimmed, just a fraction, a flicker of obedience snapping tight. She inclined her head and motioned toward the two seats at the rear of the cabin, the ones tucked against the wall like a shared confession.
My breath stalled.
Side-by-side.
Of course.
The jet felt suddenly smaller, the air warmer, the walls narrowing around the edges like a throat closing. Riley didn’t wait to see if I followed. He simply walked, his stride long, loose, utterly unhurried. His world. His plane. His rules.
I moved after him because there was nowhere else to go.
