The rhythmic hum of the helicopter blades filled the air, a steady pulse against the backdrop of the clouds. The villa was long behind them now—shrinking into a blur of coastline and memory—and the city was still far ahead.
In between was this moment.
Adam sat beside Sofia, the two of them strapped into the plush seats, but neither speaking. The cabin was sleek, soundproofed, and almost too quiet, save for the low drone of flight and the occasional static from the headset hanging unused near Adam's armrest.
Sofia sat with her legs tucked slightly to the side, her robe now replaced by a soft, fitted dress she'd slipped into quickly before takeoff. Her hair was pulled loosely back, a few strands blowing gently from the air vents overhead.
She didn't say a word. She didn't have to.
Adam couldn't stop glancing at her—not in the usual way, not with heat or hunger—but with something softer. Something he hadn't let himself feel in years.
