I stepped out of Alex's private suite on his jet, now that I've cleaned up and changed into a dress and blazer. I took the seat by the window, fastening the belt as the engines hummed beneath us. The city lights below were already shrinking into a scatter of gold against the dark.
A glass of wine waited on the table in front of me.
Moments later, Alex emerged from the corridor with Sergio and two guards trailing behind him. He moved with the same unhurried authority he carried everywhere, claiming the seat across from mine. The narrow table between us felt less like furniture and more like a line drawn.
The stewardess poured his drink without needing to ask.
Vodka.
"Not whiskey tonight?" I asked, watching the clear liquid settle in his glass. He usually preferred something darker. Heavier.
He lifted his glass slightly, eyes flicking to mine. "No. Felt like something closer to home."
He took a measured sip and set it down, his gaze lingering on me when he noticed that I hadn't touched my wine.
"How are you feeling?"
I leaned back in the leather seat, staring out at the endless dark sky.
"Mixed," I admitted. "I'm not sure which emotion I'm supposed to choose."
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. "You don't have to choose."
"We're closer to the end now," he said.
"The final phase," I murmured. "Already."
I turned my head to look at him fully.
"It feels too easy," I said. "And things like this are never easy."
"I know," he replied, jaw tight enough to crack.
Just then, the engine roared as the jet lifted off the runway. The city was starting to shrink beneath us. Yet, he kept his eyes on me.
"I'm still mad at you for what you said this morning."
"I expect nothing less," he answered evenly. "And I'm still mad at you, for seeing Sandro without me. And for training in a room full of men dressed so little."
A sharp breath left me, half scoff, half challenge. "About Sandro," I said, finally lifting my wine to my lips, "I thought we resolved that last night." I let the words linger between us, heavy with implication. "And as for the gym? I don't belong to a glass box you can lock away."
His gaze darkened, fingers tightened slightly around his glass before he set it down. "You don't belong in a box," he agreed quietly.
"But my men belong alive," he continued, his voice calm in a way that made it more threatening. "And I'm not in the mood to gouge out the eyes of my best soldiers just because they forgot how to look away."
His eyes held mine across the narrow space between us.
"You walk into a room dressed like that," he added softly, "and you think they won't look?"
The corner of his mouth twitched. Not out of amusement, but restraint.
"I trained them to be lethal," he said, his voice low over the hum of the engines. "Not blind."
The implication settled between us. Heavy and possessive, deliberate.
I held his gaze, unflinching. "And I trained myself not to be caged."
A muscle ticked in his jaw, but there was no real anger there. Just tension. Control stretched thin.
"You weren't caged," he said quietly. "You were protected."
"From what?" I challenged. "From men who work for you? Who'd die for you? They know who I belong to. You know who I belong to."
His green eyes darkened at that. Not with doubt, but with hunger. "Exactly."
The plane climbed higher, steady and inevitable.
"Then don't make me mad," I retorted softly.
He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, his glass between his fingers. "I trust you with my life," he said. "I don't trust the way men look at what they can't have."
My pulse quickened, but I refused to look away.
"That sounds like your problem," I said. "Not mine."
His gaze dropped to my mouth before returning to my eyes. Silence stretching between us, thick and electric. Heavy with things unsaid.
"We're almost at the end," he said, his composure settling back into place. "No more distractions. No more risks. Not from them, and certainly not from you."
A faint smile curved my lips. "That's unfortunate, considering you've married the biggest risk of your life."
One corner of his mouth lifted.
"And I'd do it again."
I couldn't help it. The moment the seatbelt sign dimmed, I drained the last of my wine, unbuckled and made my way to him.
He looked up as I stepped between his knees and lowered myself onto his lap, straddling him without hesitation. The engine's hum surrounded us, steady and relentless. His men sat beyond the thick curtain, giving us privacy without being told. They were likely going over the plans, plotting for blood.
I was planning for us.
My fingers slid to his jaw, my fingers against his five o'clock shadow, tilting his face up until our eyes met. The way those green eyes softened when they found mine, like even a man built for war could kneel for something gentler. His hands came to my waist instinctively, firm and grounding, as if he needed to feel that I was real.
"You know I only love you," I murmured, brushing my thumb over his cheek. "No matter what waits for us when we land...we'll survive it."
His gaze didn't waver. One hand moved to tuck my hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my skin with surprising tenderness.
"Either we survive it," he said quietly, his voice low and certain, "or we burn everything down."
There was no fear in his tone. Only promise.
I nodded once, pressing my forehead to his for a brief, sacred second. The kind one would steel before stepping into fire. Only then, did I finally kissed my husband.
Not gently. Not cautiously.
His breath caught, just for a heartbeat, before his hand slid to the back of my neck, pulling me closer. Not to control but to anchor. The world didn't just disappear. It sharpened. The air thinned. Every place our bodies touched felt branded.
He kissed me like he had already decided. Like the fire, everything was worth it.
My fingers curled into his shirt, holding on to something solid before everything else changed. There was heat, yes. But beneath it, something quieter. A surrender neither of us would ever admit out loud.
When we finally broke apart, our foreheads rested together again.
No words.
Just the quiet understanding that whatever came next, we were already in it.