Devon had bid his goodbyes to Sophie and Helena, their shy nods and lingering kisses still smoldering in his mind like a slow-burning fire as he stepped onto the private jet heading for Geneva.
The hospital, or more likely Yvonne had gone all out when it came to this trip. The jet was pure luxury, a flying paradise that screamed money and power. Soft cream leather seats hugged his body like a warm embrace, sinking under him just right, the leather cool and smooth against his back through his tight black shirt. Polished wood panels, dark and shiny like fresh coffee, caught the glow of soft lights tucked into the ceiling, casting a warm, golden vibe across the cabin.
