Allyson's POV
The private jet's interior screamed wealth and sophistication. Buttery leather seats, polished wood surfaces, and enough room to practically dance around. This was nothing like the cramped commercial flights I had seen in movies.
I sank into one of the spacious chairs, watching Michael exchange a few words with the pilot before settling down. Of all the empty seats available, he picked the one directly next to mine. My pulse quickened as his familiar cologne wrapped around me like a warm embrace.
A flight attendant greeted us with professional courtesy, and we secured our seatbelts. When the aircraft started rolling, anxiety crept up my spine. Flying was completely foreign to me, and my nerves were getting the better of me. Michael appeared completely relaxed beside me, already absorbed in his laptop screen.
Meanwhile, my knuckles turned white as I death-gripped the armrest.
Then his hand covered mine, and I went completely still. My eyes snapped to his face.
