The afternoon sun, set high in the sky, cast its bright light over the deep blue-colored piece of luxury. The private jet looked equally powerful as well as charismatic with its bold stance.
"Let's go." Michael drew Layla into his arms as they set foot towards it. James was too starstruck to believe it; in the end, Jenny had to push him aside when he finally came back to his senses. Michael had not revealed to him anytime about owning this beauty.
"Sir… please come this way." A female air hostess guided them into the plane while Layla judged the height of her pencil skirt. She had a flawless figure, with each of her curves flaunting out her beauty, and her hair was tied in a bun, with a few strands of hair being let loose on either side.
"Come on… She might actually die if you keep glaring at her like that." Michael nudged her arm, and finally, Layla wiped the sweat away from her face, setting foot onto the staircase.
