A notification lit up her screen.

  Adrian.

  “Should I keep your tablet, or are you coming to get it?”

  She pressed her lips together. He had noticed. He refused to just hand it over, forcing her to make the choice herself. For a moment, she considered leaving it until morning, but she knew better—she needed it for her morning review.

  Mira hesitated, then typed back.

  “I’ll come get it.”

  Rubbing her temple, she reached for the control panel. With a soft mechanical hum, the partition lowered, revealing Adrian seated in his section of the suite. Her tablet lay on the table beside him, just out of reach. He remained perfectly motionless, ignoring the device entirely.

  Mira narrowed her eyes. Really?

  Fine. If he refused to make an effort, she would simply grab it herself.

  The moment Mira bent to retrieve the tablet, the airplane jolted violently. The floor seemed to drop out from under her, sending her stomach plummeting. The cabin lights flickered, overhead compartments rattled, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips just as her knees buckled.

  She barely had time to process the sensation of free-falling before something solid caught her midair.

  Arms—firm, unyielding—wrapped around her, pulling her against a wall of warmth. The plane rocked again, and instinct took over. She clung to him, hands gripping the first thing they found.

  Then, silence.

  The turbulence ceased, leaving only the low hum of the engines and the wild pounding of her heart.

  Mira’s breath caught.

  She was still in Adrian’s arms—on him. She straddled his lap, her knees pressed into the plush seat on either side of his hips. His hands remained locked around her waist, anchoring her securely, as if he had no intention of letting go.

  And then the reality of their proximity hit her.

  Her face hovered mere inches from his. She could see the shadows of exhaustion beneath his eyes, the sharp, elegant cut of his jaw, and the way his lips parted slightly.

  She was close enough to feel his breath, warm and rhythmic against her skin. Close enough to smell the clean scent of cedar and something distinctly him.

  Her own breath stuttered. Her fingers, still curled around the back of his neck, twitched against his collar.

  The air between them felt heavy, charged with a magnetic tension that had nothing to do with the flight.

  Adrian’s hold on her tightened for a fraction of a second before he exhaled, his voice low and grounding.

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  "Are you alright?"

  The words took a moment to sink in. Her heart raced, her body tingling from the shock of the turbulence—and the overwhelming heat of his body beneath hers.

  "We are in a turbulence area; please stay seated and fasten your seatbelts," the flight attendant’s voice announced over the intercom, calm but authoritative.

  Adrian’s jaw tightened. His gaze remained unreadable, yet he looked at her with a hesitation she had never seen before.

  "Just stay still," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her chest.

  As if she had any choice.

  The second the aircraft stabilized, heat flooded Mira’s face. She jerked back, scrambling off his lap. Refusing to meet his eyes, she turned on her heel and practically fled to her side of the suite.

  The partition. She needed the partition up immediately.

  With frantic movements, she pressed the button. The divider slid back into place, sealing her off from him. Only then did she exhale, pressing her cool hands to her burning cheeks.

  Her heart hammered against her ribs. Her body remained hyper-aware of the warmth where his hands had rested. His touch had been secure, protective—and the memory of it made her want to bury herself in the bedding and vanish.

  Then, she realized.

  Her tablet.

  It remained on Adrian’s side. Sitting there next to his own.

  Mira stared at the partition, mortified. going back over there was impossible.

  No. She would rather leave it there all night than risk another second of that overwhelming tension.

  *

  Adrian heard the muffled groan from the other side of the partition.

  A smirk ghosted at the corner of his lips, though he wiped it away instantly. Mira was definitely flustered.

  The air around him still carried the electric charge of her proximity. The turbulence had been a mere catalyst, but the result left a mark he found impossible to ignore. The phantom weight of her body remained pressed against his, a sensory imprint burned into his nerves. He looked at his hands. They still tingled with the memory of holding her—the curve of her waist, soft and yielding under his palms, and the desperate way she had anchored herself to him.

  She had been so close. Close enough that, for a brief moment, he had almost wanted just to keep her there.

  Adrian shut his eyes, dragging a hand down his face. Focus.

  And beside him, her tablet sat quietly—like a pause left in a sentence he wasn’t ready to finish.

  *

  Back at Vermillion, Professor Ikeda sat in his office, reviewing the final preparations for the Global Summit. The university had secured a prestigious speaking role, with Adrian Vale as their representative. It was a proud moment, accompanied by an unexpected twist.

  For the first time since the incident, Adrian had made a request.

  A student assistant.

  He had declined all offers of support after the previous debacle, stating he preferred to manage everything himself. No one argued—Adrian’s reputation and precision left little room for questioning.

  So this change came as a surprise.

  "It requires someone who handles details efficiently," Adrian had mentioned during their last conversation, his expression neutral. "Someone who understands both the academic and diplomatic landscape… someone I can actually work with."

  Ikeda had reviewed potential candidates, yet none seemed to fit—until one name surfaced.

  Mira.

  Recently, she and Adrian had gone head-to-head in a debate that shook the university. The topic—Global Tech Ethics—was controversial. They had pushed each other, elevating the discussion beyond the expectations of the expert panel.

  Then came the university magazine feature. It became a phenomenon on campus. Mira, sharp and composed, radiating confidence; Adrian, distant as ever. Yet, they complemented each other perfectly.

  Ikeda entrusted delicate tasks to only a few, and Mira belonged to that rare circle. Her affection for Japan and her instinct to help ensured her commitment. A stage as rare as this summit might cause others to waver, but for her, the answer would come naturally.

  Still, what Ikeda believed was his own conclusion had, in truth, been carefully orchestrated. Adrian Vale always ensured outcomes fell within his influence. Control remained his signature—subtle, precise, inevitable.

  He had avoided saying her name or suggesting a person directly. But the way Adrian framed his request had led Ikeda exactly where he wanted.