Billionaires Desire

above the clouds

The morning sun filtered through the hotel room, casting long shadows across the floor. Desiree stirred beneath the blanket that Atticus had gently placed over her the night before. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, the hazy remnants of sleep clinging to her. For a moment, she forgot where she was, the events of the previous night still a fog in her mind.

But then the memories flooded back—Atticus, the casino, the associate, the poisonous threat. Her heart skipped a beat as she sat up, her fingers brushing the soft fabric of her nightdress. It felt surreal, like a dream she couldn’t quite shake.

Atticus had already been up for hours. By the time she rose from the couch, he was dressed, composed, and focused, like the storm that had raged within him last night never existed.

“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice cutting through her thoughts. His tone was brisk, matter-of-fact, as he stood near the window, watching the city below.

Desiree blinked, still shaking off sleep. “Leaving?” she repeated softly, rubbing her eyes.

He nodded once. “Our jet is ready. We’ll be in the air within the hour.”

There was no discussion, no time for lingering. Atticus had already decided, and she knew better than to ask questions. She moved quickly, gathering her things, dressing in silence. The weight of the night hung between them, unspoken but ever-present. They moved in sync, almost like two actors in a carefully scripted play—her following his lead, as she always did.

---

An hour later, they were on the tarmac. The private jet gleamed under the morning sun, its sleek lines cutting through the air like a knife. Atticus strode ahead, his gait purposeful, every step radiating control. Desiree followed, her heels clicking softly on the pavement.

The interior of the jet was luxurious, every detail meticulously designed for comfort and style. Soft leather seats, polished wood panels, and a spacious cabin that felt more like a high-end lounge than an aircraft. Atticus didn’t spare a glance at any of it, merely gesturing for her to sit before settling into his own seat by the window.

As the jet took off, climbing steadily into the sky, Desiree’s thoughts drifted. She watched as the city below shrank, becoming nothing more than a collection of tiny, insignificant dots. The tension of the past few days still clung to her, like a weight she couldn’t quite shake off.

Atticus, as usual, was silent. He sat beside her, staring out the window, his expression unreadable. His phone lay untouched on the table beside him, and the usual buzz of emails, calls, and messages seemed far away. It was as though the world outside the jet didn’t exist, and for once, Desiree wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.

She wanted to ask him how he felt—about the night before, about the poison, about the way his eyes had softened when he looked at her under the moonlight. But Atticus wasn’t the kind of man who invited questions. He was a man who gave orders, not explanations. And yet, sitting there, Desiree found herself wanting more from him. More than the silence, more than the cold control he so often hid behind.

The flight attendant approached with refreshments, and Desiree accepted a glass of champagne, her fingers trembling slightly as she took a sip. The bubbles fizzed against her lips, but it did little to calm her nerves.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Atticus finally spoke.

“We’ll land in New York soon. I’ve arranged for a car to pick us up. You’ll stay at the penthouse.” His voice was steady, cool, as if they were discussing something as simple as dinner plans.

Desiree turned to look at him, her brows furrowing. “And you?”

Atticus’s eyes flicked toward her, but there was no warmth in them. “I have business to attend to.”

Of course, he did. Atticus Killian always had business. Always something to pull him away, something to keep him from letting anyone too close. Desiree bit her lip, wanting to say something—anything—that might break through that wall he kept so carefully built around himself. But the words caught in her throat.

Instead, she leaned back in her seat, staring out at the endless expanse of clouds below them. The jet hummed softly as it cut through the sky, but the silence between them felt louder than anything.

---

As they flew further from Puerto Rico, Desiree couldn’t help but think about how far they had come, both physically and emotionally. Every time she thought she had begun to understand Atticus, he would pull back, hiding behind his silence, his control. She had seen glimpses of the man beneath the mask—the vulnerability, the darkness, the passion that simmered just beneath the surface. But he was quick to shut it down, as if allowing anyone to see those cracks would be his undoing.

The jet cruised steadily, and before she knew it, the skyline of New York appeared on the horizon. The familiar sight of the towering buildings brought a small sense of comfort, but the tension between them remained. Desiree glanced at Atticus once more, her heart aching with unspoken words.

“Atticus…” she began, her voice soft, hesitant.

He turned his head slightly, his dark eyes meeting hers, but he didn’t respond. It was as if he was waiting, but for what, she wasn’t sure.

Desiree took a breath, searching for the right words. “Last night… at the casino… I wasn’t sure if you were going to… if you were going to choose me.”

It was a dangerous thing to say, and she knew it. But the words had been festering inside her since that moment at the table, when the associate had put her life on the line.

Atticus’s gaze sharpened, his jaw tightening slightly. For a long moment, he didn’t speak, his expression unreadable.

“You were never in danger,” he said finally, his voice low but firm. “I would never allow that.”

The finality in his tone left no room for argument, but it did little to soothe the ache in her chest. Because while he may have protected her physically, emotionally, she was always teetering on the edge with him.

The jet began its descent, the city below growing larger and more distinct. Desiree leaned back in her seat, her heart heavy with the weight of all the things left unsaid.

Atticus was a man who didn’t deal in emotions, and she was beginning to realize that no matter how close she got to him, there would always be a part of him she would never touch. A part of him that was locked away, inaccessible, and perhaps that was the price she had to pay for being in his world.

As the wheels of the jet touched down on the runway, Desiree closed her eyes for a brief moment, bracing herself for whatever came next.

Because with Atticus Killian, there was always something more—always another game, another challenge, another wall to break down. And whether she liked it or not, she was in this for the long haul.