MR.SINCLAIR’S ASSISTANT

Altitude Attraction

Arias pov***

The flight attendant disappeared toward the galley, leaving the cabin wrapped in a comfortable silence. Then a soft chime sounded through the cabin before the intercom crackled to life.

"Good evening, Mr. Sinclair. Good evening, Miss Monroe."

The captain's voice was calm and polished.

"This is Captain Harris speaking from the flight deck. We've received our departure clearance and will be pushing back from the stand."

I glanced toward the nearest window as the aircraft began to move, almost imperceptibly.

"Our estimated flight time to Milan is eight hours and forty-two minutes. Weather conditions along our route are favorable, and we anticipate a smooth crossing for the majority of the flight."

There was a brief pause.

"If you'll both ensure your seatbelts are securely fastened, we'll be underway shortly."

Another soft chime sounded.

"On behalf of myself and the crew, it's a pleasure to have you aboard this evening. We'll have you in Italy before breakfast."

The intercom clicked off.

The aircraft turned onto the runway before coming to a smooth stop.

For a brief moment, everything went still.

Then the engines came alive.

The low rumble beneath us deepened into a powerful roar as the jet surged forward.

I felt myself pressed gently into the seat.

Faster.

Faster.

The runway lights streaked past the windows.

And then…

The nose lifted.

My stomach fluttered as the ground slipped away beneath us.

The city stretched out below in a blanket of shimmering lights, growing smaller with every passing second.

Lucien picked up his glass.

"You should make yourself comfortable."

I looked at him.

"I am."

His gaze dropped briefly to the way I was sitting before returning to my face.

"No, you're sitting like we're still in the conference room."

I looked down at myself.

Back straight.

Legs crossed.

Hands folded neatly in my lap.

I laughed.

"I guess old habits die hard."

"We've got nearly nine hours ahead of us."

There was a warmth in his voice that hadn't been there during the workday.

"I promise no one's keeping score."

A smile found its way onto my lips.

"I'll try."

"Good."

He stood, setting his empty glass on the table.

"I'm going to freshen up before dinner."

I nodded.

"Take your time."

Once he disappeared toward the rear of the aircraft, I slipped off my heels and curled one leg beneath me.

He was right.

It was much more comfortable.

A few minutes later, one of the flight attendants returned with a small tray.

"I thought you might like something while the chef finishes dinner."

Fresh fruit.

Warm pastries.

A selection of cheeses.

Everything looked almost too pretty to eat.

"Thank you."

I picked up a strawberry.

Footsteps echoed softly through the cabin.

I glanced up.

The strawberry never made it to my mouth.

Lucien had changed.

The tailored suit was gone.

In its place were charcoal gray sweatpants that hung low on his hips, a fitted white T-shirt, and black slides.

A small towel rested over one shoulder as he absently ran a hand through his damp hair.

He looked…

Nothing like the man who had walked into the boardroom that morning.

The T-shirt clung just enough to hint at the solid build beneath it.

Strong shoulders.

Defined arms.

And for the first time, both of them were completely visible.

My eyes drifted lower before I could stop them.

Black and gray ink wrapped around each forearm in intricate detail, disappearing beneath the sleeves of his shirt.

Full sleeves.

I blinked.

Mr. Sinclair had tattoos.

Not one.

Two.

They suited him far more than they should have.

I realized a second too late that I'd finally bitten into the strawberry.

It lodged in my throat.

I coughed.

Hard.

"Oh!"

The flight attendant was beside me almost instantly with a glass of water.

"Miss Monroe?"

I accepted it gratefully, taking a quick sip.

"I'm okay."

Another cough.

"It just… caught me off guard."

"It happens."

She smiled kindly before stepping away.

I lowered the glass just as Lucien reached the table.

"You alright?"

His voice held nothing but genuine concern.

I nodded a little too quickly.

"I'm fine."

He studied me for a brief second before giving a small nod.

"If you're sure."

"I am."

I reached for another sip of water, keeping my eyes firmly on the glass.

Because I was absolutely not going to make the mistake of looking at him again.

At least… not until I'd regained control of myself.

Lucien walked past my seat on his way back to his own.

As he did, a subtle fragrance drifted through the cabin.

Clean.

Warm.

Notes of cedar and bergamot wrapped in something deeper I couldn't quite place.

It wasn't overpowering.

It was understated.

The kind of scent that lingered for only a moment before disappearing.

Without thinking, I drew in a quiet breath.

It was… dangerously nice.

I closed my eyes for the briefest second, letting the fragrance settle before it slipped away with him.

When I opened them again, he was already lowering himself into the seat across from me as though nothing had happened.

He reached for the tablet resting beside him, scrolling through tomorrow's itinerary with the same calm focus he'd carried all day.

Meanwhile… I was seriously beginning to question how one man could make a plain white T-shirt look that unfair.

I reached for another strawberry, determined to focus on literally anything other than the man sitting across from me.

It was proving harder than expected.

"Aria."

The sound of my name on his lips caught me off guard.

I looked up.

"Yes?"

"I have one request."

A faint smile touched my lips.

"Only one?"

"For tonight."

"I'm listening."

He rested his forearm against the armrest, the tattoos peeking from beneath the sleeve of his T-shirt.

"I'd like you to stop calling me 'Mr. Sinclair.'"

I blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"We're off the clock."

I stared at him.

"I'm still your assistant."

"And tomorrow morning you'll be back to calling me Mr. Sinclair."

His tone was calm. Matter-of-fact.

"But for the next few hours, I'd prefer if this felt a little less… corporate."

I hesitated.

"I don't know…"

"You've earned a break, Aria."

The way he said my name… simple. Effortless. Like he'd been saying it for years.

I arched a brow.

"So let me get this straight."

"I'm listening."

"You want me to stop calling you Mr. Sinclair…"

"I do."

"…even though you're still my boss."

"I am."

"…and we're still on a business trip."

"We are."

I tilted my head.

"That's a lot of exceptions for one evening."

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I think we can manage."

I laughed.

"I don't know."

"You don't?"

"It feels… wrong."

"Wrong?"

"I've spent all day trying to make a good impression."

"You have."

"And now you're asking me to call you Lucien."

"I am."

"What if I accidentally call you Lucien in tomorrow's meeting?"

"I'll survive."

I smiled.

"I was more worried about me."

A quiet chuckle escaped him.

"I'll take full responsibility."

I pointed a finger at him.

"I'm holding you to that."

"You should."

I studied him for another moment before shaking my head.

"You know…"

"What?"

"I always imagined billionaires would have more unreasonable demands."

"Oh?"

"I don't know. Gold-plated coffee. Imported glacier water."

He laughed. Instead of the polished, restrained smile I'd seen all day, it was a genuine laugh.

"You'll be disappointed to know I drink regular coffee."

"That is disappointing."

"So…"

He leaned back comfortably.

"Lucien?"

I sighed dramatically.

"You're really not going to let this go, are you?"

"Not a chance."

I looked at him for a long moment. Then, with an exaggerated reluctance, I smiled.

"…Fine."

I paused just long enough to make him wait.

"Lucien."

For some reason… his smile was worth every second I made him earn it.

A soft chime echoed through the cabin.

Amelia appeared from the galley, her hands neatly folded in front of her.

"Mr. Sinclair, Miss Monroe," she said warmly. "Dinner will be served in approximately one hour. If either of you would like to freshen up beforehand, the shower suite is available at the rear of the aircraft."

"Thank you, Amelia," Lucien replied.

She inclined her head before quietly disappearing again.

I looked down at myself.

As much as I loved the dress I'd chosen… the thought of spending another seven hours in it suddenly sounded miserable.

I looked back at Lucien.

"I think I'm going to take her up on that offer."

"I would."

He nodded toward the rear of the cabin.

"There's a wardrobe in the shower suite with fresh towels and everything you'll need."

"I brought a change of clothes in my carry-on."

"Even better."

I reached for the small suitcase I'd tucked beside my seat. As I headed to the back of the aircraft to the shower, I pulled out everything I needed my lounge set and the little bed slippers I always pack.

After making sure I had everything, I slipped into the shower suite.

The suite was larger than my bathroom at home.

I needed to get clean before dinner. This flight was going to be a long one.