The hum of the airplane provided a soothing backdrop as the first hour of the flight passed in peaceful silence. You kept your gaze fixed on the window, lost in thought, deliberately avoiding any interaction with Nichola, your boss, who was seated uncomfortably close beside you. It was going to be a long flight, and you figured that the less conversation, the better.

Out of nowhere, Nichola's dark blazer landed on your lap, startling you.

You turned to him with a frown, only to find him looking at you with a faint trace of irritation.

"Cover your legs," he said curtly, his tone laced with authority. "They're distracting."

The audacity of his comment hit you like a slap. Heat rushed to your cheeks, a volatile mix of embarrassment and indignation.

Without hesitation, you picked up the blazer and tossed it back to him.

"I can wear whatever I want," you shot back, your voice sharp as you folded your arms and turned back to the window. "My body, my choice."

For a moment, there was silence.

But it didn’t last.

You felt Nichola lean in closer, his arm bracing against the side of the window, effectively boxing you in. His presence was overwhelming, his voice low and deliberate as he spoke—a warning that sent an unsettling chill down your spine.

"You’d better cover those legs," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear, "before I drag you into one of those bathrooms."

He paused, letting the weight of his words hang heavy in the air.

"And afterward," he added, his tone dripping with menace, "walking might be... a challenge for a while."