JASMINE'S POV
I sipped my black coffee slowly, legs crossed, sunglasses shielding my eyes, though the windows of Aiden's private jet were dimmed.
7:00 a.m. Red lipstick. Oversized sunglasses. Black wide-leg trousers, crisp white blouse, and a sleek bun.
It wasn't a look. It was a message.
I caught the side glance Aiden gave me from his seat across the aisle. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, forearms flexing as he scrolled through his phone, but I didn't look at him directly.
Not once.
Instead, I tilted my head, scrolled through emails I wasn't really reading, and silently constructed the next phase of my mental war plan.
Operation: Drive-Him-Delirious-and-Dump-Him.
Step one? Be unbothered.
Step two? Be brilliant.
Step three? Make him think he's still in control, but he's not.
He cleared his throat, trying to get my attention.
But I didn't look up.
