The dynamic of your marriage was peculiar. You were married to the most dangerous man in the country, yet his communication consisted mainly of curt words and glowering disapproval whenever you attempted another escape. He simply dispatched his men to retrieve you, regardless of your location.

Now, seated in Devon's private jet while he gave the pilot instructions, you found yourself oddly captivated. But you just shrugged it off, thinking you're just infatuated.

His dark hair, slicked back, and the subtle play of muscles beneath his crisp shirt were unexpectedly alluring. His deep, husky voice, already a familiar draw, was amplified in the confined space—perfect for a man who's tall and muscular.

He turned to you.

"You want anything before we go?" He asked, his tone still cold. His gray eyes pierced through yours.