Page 81

That devastating, unreadable look that says he's thinking something he has absolutely no intention of sharing with the class.

The first few hours of the flight settle into something quieter than I expected.

Everett works.

Of course he does.

Laptop open. Headphones in. Phone buzzing every twenty minutes with another call or email or crisis only he can apparently solve. He goes over numbers, reviews something Christian sent, takes one curt call with Wes about an acquisition in Singapore, and never once loses his tone or posture or control.

Watching him work is its own form of intimidation.

No wasted motion. No rambling. No uncertainty.

Just clean decisions and focus that makes you understand how a man like this ends up running an empire before he turns thirty-five.

At some point, lunch appears.

Real lunch, not airplane food. Seared salmon and tiny potatoes and a salad with shaved fennel and citrus segments that looks too pretty to stab with a fork.

I do anyway.

Everett closes his laptop long enough to eat across from me, and for a few strange minutes we almost look like a normal couple traveling together.

Almost.

Until my brain reminds me that normal couples usually aren't headed to the French Riviera under legal pressure with consummation clauses hovering over their heads like horny little vultures.

I nearly choke on my water.

Everett notices.

Again.

"Are you okay?"

I nod too fast. "Fine."

His eyes narrow. "You keep saying that."

"Maybe one day it'll be true."

That earns me another one of those tiny mouth-twitches.

He goes back to his coffee.

I go back to trying not to think about the fact that at some point in the very near future, we are going to arrive at a villa in Cannes and there will be one bed.

Maybe.

Probably.

Definitely, because Everly is running point on this trip and would absolutely weaponize European architecture against my peace.

The cabin grows dimmer later, the windows shaded halfway as the afternoon stretches. At some point I doze off despite myself, curled sideways in the oversized seat with a blanket tucked around my legs.

When I wake, I'm warm.

And Everett's jacket is draped over me.