Mr CEO, Love me gently

As the plane soared through the sky, Elena Prescott gazed out the window, her eyes lost in the vast expanse of blue.The soft leather of her first-class seat cradled her weary body, but even the subtle scent of polished wood and fine leather couldn't dispel the unease that had been simmering inside her for days. Six years had passed since she'd last set foot in the place she once called home. Six years of running, of hiding, of trying to outrun the memories that now threatened to consume her. The thought of returning was like a slow-burning fire, igniting a dread that seeped into every pore. She'd tried to distract herself with the in-flight movie, but the dialogue blurred together, the actors' faces melting into a sea of meaningless smiles. With a frustrated sigh, she shut off the tablet and turned to face the stranger sitting beside her, his features illuminated by the soft glow of his own screen. He must have dozed off while he was working. His tailored grey suit fit impeccably, accentuating his broad shoulders and chiseled physique. The top buttons of his crisp white shirt were undone, revealing a hint of his chest and the subtle tattoo markings that danced beneath the fabric. The ink looked striking against his warm, olive-toned skin. A day's worth of stubble shaded his defined jawline, lending a rugged edge to his refined features. His full lips were pursed in a thoughtful frown, and his slightly crooked nose hinted at a storied past. His eyes, though closed, seemed to hold a deep intensity, she wondered what color they would be, their lashes casting a soft shadow across his cheeks. His black hair, mussed and tousled, added to the air of relaxed elegance. Despite the tension etched on his face, his handsome features remained undeniable. The subtle imperfections – the stubble, the crooked nose – only added to his charm, making him all the more captivating. Another thing Elena couldn’t help but notice was his alluring scent. His presence was accompanied by a subtle musky sandalwood aroma, tempered by the faintest hint of lavender, echoing the air of rugged elegance he exuded. There was something hauntingly familiar about his features, yet she was certain they’d never crossed paths before. Despite the unfamiliarity, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d seen him before. Perhaps he was a celebrity, she mused, he definitely had the looks for it. The flight attendant, noticing her gaze lingering on the sleeping stranger, approached with a discreet smile. "Champagne, ma'am?" she whispered, holding out a chilled flute. Elena declined with a gracious smile, 'No, thank you.' The flight attendant's bright smile faltered for a fleeting moment before she nodded curtly and glided away, leaving Elena to her thoughts. Her thoughts inevitably drifted back to the reason for her journey. Three days ago, during her morning run, a phone call from her dad, Elon Prescott, disrupted her routine. The familiar joviality was gone, replaced by an uncharacteristic urgency. 'Please, Elena, come home. I need you here,' he pleaded, Elon’s gruff voice softened by desperation and a hint of exhaustion. The seriousness in his tone unsettled her; he sounded weary, almost broken. Gone were the usual jokes about her neglecting her fatherly duties, replaced by an unsettling sincerity. Since that call, Elena couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly amiss. _~_~_~_~_~_~_~_ The hum of announcements and chatter enveloped the air, a cacophony that mirrored the turmoil within. Fluorescent lights above cast a sterile glow, illuminating the polished floor beneath Elena’s feet. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and fast food wafted through the air, a familiar comfort amidst the uncertainty. Her luggage wheels glided smoothly, but her legs felt heavy, as if rooted to the spot. Anticipation and nerves wrestled in her chest, her heart racing with every step. The cool San Francisco air clung to her like a damp shroud, a jarring contrast to Cardiff's gentle climate. Nostalgia and anxiety entwined, suffusing her with dread. Her thoughts drifted to her dad, and the unknown reasons behind her return. The tension in her shoulders tightened, her breath catching in her throat. A bad feeling simmered in the pit of her stomach, threatening to overwhelm her. Elena's gaze dropped to her luggage, a tangible reminder of her journey's end. With a deep breath, she grasped the handle and stepped forward squinting, Elena scanned the crowded curb, her eyes settling on the taxi line. She joined the queue, her exhaustion and anxiety momentarily replaced by the mundane task of finding transportation. "Where to, miss?" the cab driver asked, his voice a warm, raspy contrast to the chilly air. "Bay Heights," Elena replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "Prescott Estate, on Broadway." The driver nodded, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. "Rough flight?" Elena managed a faint smile. "Long day." As the cab pulled away from the curb, Elena's thoughts drifted to her father's unexpected summons. Why had he called her back to San Francisco? Was everything okay? The cab glided through the city's scenic streets, passing Victorian homes and upscale boutiques. Elena's anxiety grew as they approached her father's estate. The cab turned onto Broadway, and the majestic mansions came into view. Elena's heart quickened as they stopped in front of her father's grand, gated estate. "Here we are," the driver announced, braking in front of the ornate iron gates. Elena paid the fare, grabbed her luggage, and stepped onto the sidewalk. The estate's perfectly manicured lawns and flowering gardens welcomed her back home. As she entered the gates, a sense of trepidation settled within. What awaited her inside? Nostalgia washed over Elena like a tidal wave, threatening to knock the air from her lungs. Memories came crashing into her mind, and a lump formed in her throat as they threatened to overwhelm her. Everything was just as she had left it - the tall, sturdy black metal gate with intricate gold designs spiraling around it like a vine, the majestic white fountain at the courtyard's center, and the perfectly manicured lawn. Her gaze lingered on her mother's special garden, where white roses bloomed in profusion. The old swing, where she had spent countless hours as a child, still hung gently, inviting two people to sit together. It had once been the most magical place in the world for her; a haven of innocence and joy. Memories flooded back, bittersweet and overwhelming. Every detail, every curve and contour, was etched in her mind like a fossil in stone.As Elena stepped onto the porch, the grand entrance doors swung open, revealing two familiar faces. Roger, her father's loyal butler, and Nina, the warm-hearted caretaker, stood waiting, their tired smiles hanging loosely on their aged faces. Roger's eyes, wrinkled at the corners, sparkled with warmth. "Welcome home, Miss Elena." His voice, steady and reassuring, was a comforting sound from her childhood. Nina's face creased into a deeper smile, her dark eyes shining with affection. "Mija, it's so good to see you." She opened her arms, embracing Elena in a warm hug, redolent with the scent of cooking spices and familiarity. Elena's exhaustion momentarily lifted as she hugged Nina back. "Nina, it's wonderful to see you too." She turned to Roger. "And Roger, thank you for welcoming me home." Roger's expression turned serious. "Your father awaits you in the study, Miss Elena. He's... anxious to speak with you." Nina's gaze flickered with concern, but she said nothing, her eyes locked on Elena's. Elena's heart skipped a beat. What did her father want to discuss?