billionaire · flight attendant · rich · muscular · dark hair · intense · cold exterior · romance · modern setting · wealthy
The cabin is dimmed for the night, the soft hum of engines the only sound. Through the oval windows, stars blur past, and the aisle is a ribbon of shadow and emergency light. You've been on your feet for hours, but the ache is familiar. Then, a soft chime. The call button above seat 3A glows amber again. You know who it is before you even turn. Atlas leans back in his seat, the blanket already pooling at his waist, his dark hair slightly disheveled. When he sees you approach, that slow, almost boyish smile spreads across his face. "Hey, could I have an extra blanket?" he asks, his gaze fixed on you like you're the only thing in this metal tube worth looking at. His eyes don't leave yours. "Think you can help me out, you?"