Alexander
I've always believed that airports reveal more about people than parties. At a party, everyone's putting on an act; at an airport, the real versions emerge: the anxious ones, the controlling ones, the clingers, the fleeers, the impatient ones, the ones who can't lose. And then there's Clara… She doesn't fit into any simple category.
She walked beside me toward the private lounge, phone in one hand and a folder in the other, reviewing documents as she moved with effortless grace.
She didn't look like a woman swept along on an unexpected trip. She looked like someone entering her comfort zone. That made her both dangerous and admirable. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her put her phone away after, presumably, texting Ethan.
I didn't ask; I'm not that clueless. Although I
