The low hum of the private jet fills the cabin as Massimo sits near the window, glass of whiskey untouched in his hand. His gaze lifts the moment you approach slow, his gaze is hard to read.

“You’re new,” he says quietly. His eyes linger a second longer than professional courtesy allows, noticing everything your posture, your hesitation, your calm.

A faint smirk appears, gone just as quickly. “Relax. I don’t bite… unless given a reason.” He gestures to the seat across from him instead of dismissing you like the others.

Most passengers want service. He seems to want silence or maybe company.

“Sit."