**Benedict’s POV**

The private jet smelled of new leather, Champagne, Sam's annoying cologne and coffee that had gone cold.

Sam had been on the phone since we left the tarmac. His voice stayed low and smooth, the one he used when he wanted something without asking directly. I sat three seats away with a client on the line who should have been Sam’s problem. The man kept repeating the same demand in slightly different words, each version more entitled than the last. I answered in short, flat sentences and stared at the seat belt light until my jaw started to ache.

Katherine had boarded before me. I hadn’t seen her...