Chapter 2 - Aleksander #2
I scan the aisle and spot her immediately. Bella is struggling with her carry-on, half pushing a stroller that keeps catching on the plush carpet. The little girl clings to her hand, head drooping with exhaustion. They’re in 2A—across the aisle from my assigned 2B.
She looks flustered, mumbling an apology as she bumps an armrest and tries to collapse the stroller one-handed. I can’t help but smirk; some things never change. She always hated asking for help. A flight attendant quickly swoops in, stowing her luggage and offering her a warm, reassuring smile.
Bella finally sinks into her seat, her daughter curled up beside her.
For a moment, she just closes her eyes, one hand pressed over her own chest, breathing deep.
I watch, unseen behind the tinted glass of my suite’s door, letting myself take in the details—her jawline, the arch of her brow, the soft shape of her lips.
I could stay hidden. But I don’t want to.
I step out of my suite, smooth and quiet, and cross the narrow aisle. She doesn’t notice me at first—not until I speak, my voice low but unmistakable.
“Long day?”
Her eyes snap open and lock on mine. For a split second, she’s silent. Then her pupils go wide, shock and memory blooming across her face. Her lips part in surprise—no sound escapes.
“Hello, Isabella,” I say softly.
And for a moment, time collapses between us.
Her eyes are huge, startled, and for a split second, I’m certain she wants to bolt. But Bella has never been the type to run from a challenge. She squares her shoulders, lifts her chin, and gives me that crooked half smile I remember too well.
“Hello, Aleksander.”
“Do you fly first class often?” I tease, glancing pointedly at the champagne and the plush seat behind her.
She shakes her head, the corner of her mouth quirking up. “First time, actually. I keep waiting for someone to tell me I’m in the wrong section.”
I lean in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “If you are, we’ll just tell them you’re my guest.”
She laughs, and the sound does something to my chest. She’s even cuter than I remember—her hair falling in loose waves, cheeks flushed, legs barely touching the floor under the oversized seat.
“Huh,” I say, pretending to consider. “You didn’t…pull any strings to get upgraded, did you?”
She narrows her eyes, instantly suspicious. “Don’t tell me you did it.”
I widen my eyes, feigning innocence. “Me? Sabotage an airline’s booking system just to see you again? I’d never abuse my powers for personal gain.”
Her lips twitch, but she holds my gaze, chin tipped up stubbornly even though I easily tower over her in the aisle. “That sounds exactly like something you’d do, Mr. Antonov.”
I can’t help but grin. “Well, you always did have a knack for getting into trouble, Isabella. I’m just here for quality control.”
She snorts, half amusement, half disbelief. “And here I thought nobody could care less about my existence.”
I’m unable to stop the slow, genuine smile pulling at my mouth. She blushes, glancing away, but I can see the warmth blooming in her cheeks.
God, I’ve missed this—the push and pull, the spark in her eyes, the way she makes me forget everything else. For the first time in days, I almost feel like myself again.
She tries to keep things light, but I see the way she glances away, the nerves in her fingers as she fiddles with the edge of her blanket. Cute. But I remember how fast she vanished, and bitterness still simmers underneath the heat.
“So, Bella,” I say, voice low and even, “do you always run away after an unforgettable night, or was I special?”
Her mouth falls open in mock outrage. “Oh, please. I did not—”
“You did,” I cut in, letting the smile drop for a second, letting her see just how much it stung. “You disappeared. No calls, no messages. Not even a bad excuse.”
Her eyes flash, defiant but also a little guilty. “I had my reasons, Aleksander.”
“Yeah? Because I spent months wondering if you were even alive.” I lean in, close enough to see the gold flecks in her eyes, close enough to smell her shampoo. “You could have said something. Anything.”
For a moment, the banter fades. There’s just us, the old chemistry snapping in the air between our mouths. I want to kiss her, hard. I want to taste all the years we lost, to remind her exactly what she left behind.
I lean in, slow and deliberate, my lips nearly brushing hers. “Next time you try to disappear,” I murmur, “try harder.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, her lips parting—but just as I’m about to close the gap, a shadow falls across us.
“Excuse me, sir—would you like a welcome drink?” The cabin attendant’s voice is too bright, too real. I pull back an inch, jaw clenched, forcing a polite nod.
Bella lets out a shaky laugh, hiding behind her hand. “Saved by the bell,” she whispers.
“For now,” I promise, eyes locked on hers. “But we’re not finished.”
I’m still watching Bella, my pulse unsteady from almost kissing her, when I catch movement in my peripheral vision—someone heading up the stairs to the business-class cabin above us. For a second I don’t believe it, then recognition burns cold through my veins.
Kirov Zaroksiv.
The same bastard who torpedoed my Moscow deal. I watch as he gives his ticket to the attendant with a smirk, then—worse—his eyes flick over to Bella. He lingers a moment too long, gaze crawling over her face, a slow, leering sweep that makes my jaw clench.
What the fuck is he doing here?
Of all the flights, of all the days, he ends up with us. No way this is a coincidence. The man is reckless, hungry for power, and now—by the look in his eyes—interested in something that’s none of his business.
I force a breath, straighten, and flash Bella my most reassuring half smile. “Excuse me for a moment,” I say, voice calm but low. She starts to ask something, but I’m already on my feet, tension pulsing through every muscle.
The cabin crew is prepping for takeoff, but the suite section has its own lounge—a private bar and seating area for business and first class. I stride down the aisle, each step deliberate. I can feel Kirov’s eyes on my back, then the subtle shuffle as he follows me instead of climbing the stairs.
Perfect. If he wants to play games, I’ll give him a private audience.
I reach the lounge, settle on one of the leather stools, and barely have time to pour myself a drink before I hear him behind me, voice oily with false politeness. “Antonov. Fancy seeing you here. Small world.”
I don’t turn. I just swirl the amber in my glass, keeping my tone cool. “Somehow, Zaroksiv, it keeps getting smaller.”
He slides onto the stool beside me, too close, the kind of man who’s never understood personal space—or boundaries.
He lifts his glass, eyes narrowed. “So, Antonov. Interesting company you keep these days.”
I don’t take the bait. “Is that so?”
He tips his chin toward where Bella is sitting, almost casual, but there’s a hunger in his gaze I recognize too well. “Pretty woman. Traveling alone?”
I keep my face unreadable. “You know how it is—airports are full of strangers.”
He laughs, slow and cold. “Some strangers are worth getting to know.”
I grip my drink a little tighter. “You’d better hope you’re not one of them.”
He starts to say something else, but we’re interrupted by a polite, firm voice. “Gentlemen, we’ll be departing shortly. Please return to your seats.”
The flight attendant stands there, all efficient grace, but there’s no mistaking the steel in her tone. Kirov drains his glass in one swallow, then flashes me that thin, ugly smile he always wears when he thinks he’s won something.
“See you around, Antonov,” he says, then disappears down the aisle and up the stairs to business class.
I exhale slowly, relief and irritation battling for space in my chest. At least we’re on separate floors. Out of sight is safer—for both Bella and my temper.
I finish my drink, give the attendant a nod, and head back down the aisle. As I approach my suite, I let my gaze linger on Bella for a heartbeat longer than necessary. She’s watching the window, unaware of the storm that just passed through.
I settle in, buckle up, and try to pretend—for now—that this flight is just another business trip.
But I know better.
With Bella and Kirov on board, nothing about this night will be simple.