I should be excited. Really.
I mean—first time on a plane, and not just any plane. A private jet, all silver and sleek, humming through the sky like it doesn’t have to try.
The kind of experience people post about with hashtags and wide-eyed captions. We’re flying above the clouds, the whole world tucked beneath us like some distant, disposable memory.
Italy is waiting. Sun, sea, and a house pulled from some glossy magazine spread.
So why do I feel like I can’t breathe?
Everything is too perfect. Too controlled. From the soft leather under my legs to the quiet clink of crystal glasses being filled and refilled with exotic juices I don’t touch.
Lior sits across from me, reaching for my hand across the table. His fingers wrap around mine like they’re locking me in place, and his thumb
