(Michelle Lui's POV)
If heaven had a lobby, it would look like a private terminal.
Quiet. Polished. Smelling faintly of eucalyptus and luxury.
We followed the staff toward the two jets waiting on the tarmac. Both gleamed in the sunlight—sleek, elegant, expensive. Exactly what you'd expect when two members of the Exclusive 8 were traveling.
Steven's jet: silver, minimalist, modern.
Anthony's jet: deeper metallic tone, equally luxurious, even slightly bigger.
Of course.
Anyone who believed Anthony's jet was inferior clearly didn't know anything about old money.
But Vince?
Vince didn't care about logic.
"I WANT STEVEN'S JET!" he whined dramatically, dragging his luggage behind him like a sulking toddler. "His vibe matches my aura better."
Jeff stared at him. "What aura? Chaos?"
"EXACTLY," Vince declared proudly.
Kate smacked his arm. "You're ridiculous."
"I'M A NATIONAL TREASURE."
"No one said that."
I snorted before I could stop myself.
