Whirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
The sounds of Darren's private jet, the Razor filled the sky's air. The jet cut through the clouds with the soundless grace of wealth engineered to perfection.
The Gulfstream 450 boasted of a sleek, instantly recognizable lines of the famous Gulfstream aircraft. It had a long, slender fuselage, gracefully swept wings, and distinctive T-tail, giving it a sense of speed and sophistication even while stationary.
Darren had painted it the color of steel, then inscribed his company's logo at its tail.
Inside, the cabin was all minimalist elegance — soft leather seats the color of aged whiskey, ambient lights glowing like melted silver along the trim, and a quiet jazz playing from the speakers.
Darren reclined in the main lounge, one ankle crossed over his knee. A tumbler of still water sat untouched on the armrest beside him, condensation gathering in slow tears.
