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Chapter 10 - Chapter Ten: The Wrong Door

WRITER'S POV:

Ivy wasn't sure if it was the jet lag, the recycled air, or the fact that Cassius had once again refused wine like she was offering him poison, but something had gone terribly wrong with her sense of direction.

One minute she was walking to the crew lounge. The next, she was in a private hotel wing, trailing behind a porter who mumbled something about a "crew debrief upstairs" before disappearing like a plot device.She checked her badge. Checked her sanity. Checked the marble floor beneath her sensible heels. And then she did the thing no flight attendant should ever do: she pushed open a door that wasn't clearly marked.And walked straight into a mafia meeting.The room was cold—like the thermostat had been set by a Bond villain. At a long table sat seven men in tailored suits, all exuding the kind of wealth and menace usually reserved for fictional characters or war criminals. At the head of the table, arms folded, expression carved from stone—Cassius.For a second, nobody moved.Ivy did what any rational, panicked, emotionally unstable woman might do: she froze mid-step and offered a small, completely unhinged wave."Hi! I think I'm... lost."Jason choked on his laughter. Monday outright snorted. One of the men—older, sharper, clearly not here for entertainment—stood halfway, reaching for something under the table.Cassius's voice sliced through the tension. "She's crew."The man paused. Stared. Slowly sat down.Cassius didn't look at Ivy. He didn't have to. The entire room bristled with a tension that had nothing to do with her uniform or poor navigational skills and everything to do with her proximity to power."You shouldn't be here," Cassius said evenly, still not facing her."I—yeah. Got that." Ivy took a careful step back, heart pounding. "Sorry, wrong door, I was looking for... snacks. Airplane snacks."Monday leaned forward, smirking. "You want to stay? We're about to play Russian Roulette with international tariffs."Jason grinned. "And betrayal. Don't forget betrayal.""I'm good," Ivy said quickly, backing out so fast her heel skidded on the floor.Cassius finally looked at her—looked, not just glanced—and the weight of it hit her like a body blow. There was a flicker in his eyes, something caught between warning and worry, but he said nothing.Ivy turned and bolted, slamming the door behind her with all the grace of a startled deer.---Outside, she leaned against the wall, panting.What. Was. That.Her brain scrambled for logic. Maybe it was some ultra-exclusive business meeting. Maybe she'd misread the tension. Maybe—"Don't make this worse," she whispered to herself, eyes wild. "Don't romanticize organized crime. This is not a Netflix special."But then again... Cassius hadn't let them throw her out. Or worse.He'd protected her.Sort of.So why did her hands still shake?---Inside the room, Monday was still grinning."She's adorable," he said. "And clearly doomed."Jason chuckled. "Do we kill her now or wait for her to trip over another state secret?"Cassius didn't answer.Instead, he looked at the closed door.And wondered how long he could keep her out of this world before she wandered back into it—on accident, or worse, on purpose.Because she was already in.She just didn't know it yet.

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