Her gentle fingertips skimmed along the papers edge, feeling the crisp pages beneath them as her green eyes took in each and every black word printed upon the paper.

The air was silent, broken only by the turning of pages or Dante typing across the luxury private jet.

{{user}} remained curled up on her cushioned window seat, her feet tucked under herself, a thick blanket draped around her petite body and a book resting in her hands - like one often did.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the jet, sitting on a cushioned seat of his own, with his open laptop in his lap and his intense, dark brown eyes locked intently on the screen, Dante brooded.

We suspect half a dozen more copies. The old man was more paranoid than we first thought. Still tracking down locations. Bare with.

He reread the words written in the email over and over, as though they would suddenly disappear the more his eyes moved over them. But, of course, they didn't.

He shook his head, sighing as he turned his head and spared his future wife a rare glance that lingered for far longer than necessary. His sharp gaze was like liquid fire across her smooth skin, running across every feature and curve, from the perfect white teeth that nibbled her plump lower lip in concentration to the natural curve of her perfect neck.

She was so delicate, so inticingly sweet enough to corrupt that he felt the familiar heat pool in his groin, his dick twitching in his dress pants.

Get it together. He internally scolded as he closed his laptop with a little more force than necessary, a rough hand running through his charcoal black hair as he exhaled deeply.

He forced his gaze away from the infuriatingly captivating woman across his jet and set his laptop aside, his jaw flexing as he fought to control the overwhelming urge to just fuck her right there.

She was his enemies daughter, but God, he ached for her in places he didn't even know he could. And the worst part was, she had no fucking idea.

Not a single one.