Naomi froze, imdiately regretting her words the mont they left her lips. Why had she said that? She hadn’t ant to voice her thoughts, but the curiosity slipped out before she could stop herself. The things Zylan did weren’t normal, not by any asure she could imagine. She couldn’t picture any human, not even soone completely reckless, being at ease with his behavior. Why was she even considering that? Then again, she wasn’t exactly "normal" herself, was she? She knew that far too well.
She felt Zylan’s steady gaze settle on her, a silent anchor that rooted her in place. His lips curled into a slow, deliberate smile, one that sent a flicker of unease through her. "Convince , then," he said, his tone carrying a faint edge of challenge.
Naomi shifted her gaze, feeling a rush of uncertainty color her cheeks. "Don’t mind my words," she murmured, trying to dismiss the weight of what she had let slip. She felt foolish, exposed.
Before she had a chance to get her bearings, the car ca to a sudden stop. Her eyes darted to the window, and she blinked, seeing the illuminated façade of an airport. Were they taking a night flight? An unexpected thrill mixed with a pang of anxiety stirred within her as she processed this twist.
Zylan had already stepped out of the car by the ti she reached for the door handle. Just as she was about to push it open, the door swung wide, and to her surprise, he stood there, hand extended, waiting for her. Naomi’s breath caught, hesitating a fraction of a second before placing her hand in his. His hand was warm and steady, an odd comfort in the night’s chill.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible, though he caught it. He gave her a subtle nod, his gaze never wavering, before leading her forward, his hand guiding hers as they entered the airport.
Hand in hand, they walked toward the entrance. The fluttering sensation in her stomach grew with each step, her heart pounding a relentless rhythm. She knew it was simply the feel of his hand in hers, but sohow, it seed to affect her more deeply than she’d like to admit. Just before they reached the doors, she caught sight of several attendants loading boxes onto motorized carts, which they then wheeled toward an airplane. Naomi noticed that Zylan was leading her to a different lounge—one far more private and secluded than the first-class lounge she was accustod to when traveling with her sister.
Did he own this lounge? The thought alone made her mind reel. She shouldn’t have been surprised, but the scale of his wealth was overwhelming. She couldn’t help but wonder just how powerful he was, how much influence he wielded. Without a word, he guided her into the private space and then onto the plane.
The mont she stepped on board, Naomi felt her breath catch. She’d seen luxury before—her family’s wealth ensured that—but this was sothing else. The plane’s interior was unlike any she had ever imagined, more like an opulent penthouse suite than an aircraft. There was a large bed draped in silk, plush seating that looked made for royalty, and an ambiance that seed to radiate his distinctive taste and presence.
He led her to a luxurious, sofa-like seat. The mont they settled, a flight attendant approached them, a professional smile on his face. "Welco, Mr. Zylan and Mrs. Zylan," he said with a polite nod. Naomi’s heart skipped at the words—Mrs. Zylan. It hadn’t quite hit her until now; she no longer carried her family na. She was his wife. That reality settled heavily in her mind, stirring a mixture of emotions she couldn’t na.
"Please buckle your seatbelt as we prepare for takeoff," the attendant continued smoothly. "Once we’re airborne, you’re welco to unbuckle."
Naomi fumbled with her seatbelt, her hands shaking slightly. The task was simple, yet her nerves were anything but steady. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Zylan’s gaze fixed on her, a faint hint of amusent in his eyes. Just as she struggled with the buckle, he reached over, his hand covering hers, guiding her fingers gently until the buckle clicked into place. The warmth of his hand was surprisingly calming, and in that fleeting mont, she felt as if his touch cast a spell over her, soothing her turbulent thoughts.
Her eyes t his, and for a heartbeat, her mind stilled. He was looking at her as if he could see beyond every wall she had ever built, and it unnerved her how easily his presence could strip her defenses away.
Once she was securely fastened, Zylan leaned back in his seat, appearing completely at ease. Naomi, on the other hand, struggled to calm herself, her breaths coming in slow, asured intervals as the plane began to ascend into the night sky. Her nerves returned, as they always did during takeoff. Normally, she would clutch her sister’s shirt, gripping the fabric tightly to ground herself. Though her sister would always get annoyed once they landed—her clothes rumpled from Naomi’s anxious grip—it was a comfort Naomi had co to rely on, a small reassurance that she wasn’t alone.
But now, sitting beside Zylan, there was no familiar shirt to cling to, no comforting presence. She clenched the fabric of her nightwear instead, her knuckles turning white as she braced herself for the ascent. Just as the anxiety began to crest, she felt a warm hand cover hers. She looked down, surprised, and saw Zylan’s hand resting gently on hers, grounding her in a way she hadn’t anticipated. The warmth of his touch seeped through her skin, easing her tension little by little.
With a soft exhale, she loosened her grip, a realization washing over her that she didn’t have to face her fears alone—not tonight.
As the plane leveled out, Naomi’s pulse began to slow, her breathing steady once more. But just as her thoughts settled, a new sensation took hold. Her breath hitched. Was it just her imagination, or was Zylan’s hand slowly sliding upward? A faint, unsteady thrill ran through her, unexpected yet oddly intoxicating. She found herself not wanting him to pull away, her gaze locked on his hand.
Zylan leaned forward, his face resting against his knuckles, his other hand gliding over her thigh with a slow, deliberate caress. His eyes traced her reaction with a keen interest, a glint of amusent mixed with sothing deeper. Naomi turned to him, a mix of surprise and confusion widening her gaze.
"Do you like my hand on your thigh?" he asked, his voice low, carrying a weight that made her heart skip. The question sent a jolt through her, and she couldn’t quite find her voice to respond.
He leaned in closer, his tone turning smooth yet teasing. "After all, it’s our wedding night." His words held an underlying challenge, like a professor testing his student’s knowledge, and the intensity of his gaze left her feeling as if she was the only one in his world at that mont. "And what do married couples do on their wedding night?"
Her body stilled, every muscle freezing at the implications of his words. Heat flooded her cheeks, spreading down her neck as her mind stumbled over the thought. Was he suggesting they... they should... do that? Here? On the plane? Her gaze darted from his eyes to the luxurious setting around them, and the reality of her situation pressed down on her in a wave that left her both breathless and uncertain.
Naomi couldn’t tell if it was fear, excitent, or both that made her pulse race. All she knew was that every nerve in her body was on high alert, attuned to his every move. The way he looked at her, the warmth of his hand still on her thigh, the air between them thickened with an intensity that was both thrilling and unnerving.
She felt herself sinking into the mont, her thoughts muddled as his touch lingered. But as her mind whirled with a thousand questions, one clear realization began to surface: he had her exactly where he wanted her, caught between anticipation and uncertainty.
Just as Naomi was about to speak, her words caught in her throat, her mind racing to find the right response. She tried again, but before she could utter a single word, a low, amused laugh escaped from Zylan. It wasn’t the dry, humorless chuckle she’d heard from him before; there was sothing richer in this sound, yet a chill lingered beneath it that made her uneasy.
Was he... teasing her? She felt a mix of frustration and confusion build in her chest. This situation was anything but funny, yet here he was, laughing as though he knew exactly what thoughts were racing through her mind. She clenched her hands tightly, trying to still the slight tremor in her fingers. What was he playing at?
The laugh lingered in her ears, fueling her growing irritation. Did he find her nervousness amusing?
Naomi forced a wry smile, rolling her eyes as she shot him a sharp glare.
"Oh, so funny," she muttered, masking her discomfort with a hint of sarcasm. But beneath her bravado, she couldn’t deny the effect his laughter had on her. The sound was unexpectedly warm, lodic even, and it seeped into her, easing her nerves in a way she couldn’t quite explain. It was infuriating, really, how his laugh—though faint and edged with that cold, unsettling amusent—left her feeling slightly breathless.
As she gathered her thoughts, trying to steel herself, Zylan’s voice broke the silence between them, low and deliberate.
"So tell ," he drawled, his gaze unwavering, "do you want us to do it right here, right now?"
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