The atmosphere, a pressurized tube of silence and stale, recycled air.
Evelina sat in the cream leather captain’s chair, her body turned entirely toward the window. The view was nothing but endless, suffocating blue. She had been staring at it for two hours, refusing to look across the narrow aisle.
Dante was there.
He wasn’t working. He wasn’t reading. He was watching her.
He had discarded his jacket. His black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms that looked too strong, too brutal for the corporate setting. He sat with his legs sprawled, invading the aisle, his presence expanding until it filled the entire cabin.
He was bored. And a bored predator was a dangerous thing.
“Your breathing is shallow,” Dante said. His voice was a low, vibrating hum t
