Inside the luxurious cabin of the private jet, Melissa reclined on the leather massage chair, savoring the soothing kneading along her stiff shoulders and neck.
Having spent hours cramped inside a suitcase, her body ached all over.
Vicente sat nearby, his slender fingers meticulously preparing a plate of fresh fruit.
Watching him, Melissa found the corners of her lips curling into a faint, unconscious smile—until she caught herself and immediately averted her gaze, feigning indifference.
Vicente handed her the neatly sliced fruit, and without hesitation, she accepted it, picking up a fork to eat.
His dark, fathomless eyes lingered on her, a quiet amusement glimmering in their depths.
The tenderness in his expression seemed entirely at odds with his usual professional demeanor.
Only after she finished did he finally speak, his voice low and husky, laced with something akin to hope.
"Melissa, why did you follow me here?"
