Chapter 69: Chapter 69 What does he even think all day?
Isabella stepped out of the car, rubbing her eyes slightly, still sleepy from the long drive. But the moment she saw what they were standing in front of..Her feet stopped.
Her mouth slowly dropped open.
"That’s... that’s your plane?!"
A massive black private jet stood before her, shining under the sunlight.
Leonardo didn’t even blink. He just adjusted his sleeves and walked up the stairs like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Isabella hurried behind him, still in shock.
When she stepped inside—
She nearly tripped.
It was gorgeous.
The seats were wide and cream-colored, soft like marshmallows. Golden trims glowed on the side walls, and in the far back there’s private bedroom.
Her jaw dropped further.
"It even has a bedroom...?!" she whispered, eyes wide with shock.
She carefully sat down on one of the wide seats across from Leonardo, still looking around like a wide-eyed tourist.
Everything smelled like fresh leather and soft cologne. The air was so cold and clean she almost forgot she was flying.
Leonardo, meanwhile, sat quietly across from her—his laptop already open, fingers typing away.
He didn’t say anything.
He just worked, his face calm, focused, serious.
Isabella stared at him for a second, then leaned back into the seat and whispered to herself,
"Okay... this is kind of insane."
She hugged her bag close and looked around once more. "Am I dreaming? Should I touch the gold trim just to be sure?"
But the next moment, her stomach growled softly.
And now she had a bigger problem: Do private planes have snacks?
Just as Isabella was wondering if she should open a drawer for snacks, the cabin door clicked open.
A tall flight attendant stepped in, her heels tapping gently against the floor. She was dressed in a sharp navy-blue uniform, with bold red lipstick, a matching cap, and the top two buttons of her shirt left boldly undone—showing off her smooth skin and soft cleavage like she had no shame.
Isabella blinked.
The woman didn’t even glance her way.
Instead, she walked straight to Leonardo, her lips slightly parted like she was posing for a slow-motion perfume ad.
"Sir," she said in a breathy voice, biting her lower lip. "Please buckle your seatbelt... we’re about to take off."
Her voice was dripping sugar, but it made Isabella’s spine stiffen.
Leonardo didn’t react to her tone. He simply gave a short nod and calmly buckled his seatbelt. His movements were smooth, quiet, collected like nothing could distract him.
Then his eyes shifted toward Isabella.
She was still sitting there, completely frozen, holding onto her seatbelt but not moving. Her wide eyes were locked on him, not the flight attendant. Her face was blank, but her mind?
Screaming.
He didn’t even blink when she showed her chest like that...
Does this happen all the time? Is this normal in rich-people world??
Leonardo raised one brow, his voice calm.
"Seatbelt."
Isabella quickly looked away, her face burning, and fumbled to buckle herself in.
She didn’t even realize she’d been holding her breath.
And when the flight attendant turned to leave with a final, flirty smile toward Leonardo, Isabella glared at the back of her shiny heels like she wanted to trip her.
A soft ding echoed through the cabin, followed by the pilot’s voice over the speakers:
"We’ll be taking off shortly. Please remain seated and buckle up."
Isabella’s fingers tightened around her seatbelt.
Her heart started beating a little faster.
She had never been on a plane before.
And now she was about to take off in a private jet with a cold mafia boss beside her, a flirty flight attendant on board, and no clue where they were even going.
She gulped.
"Okay... it’s fine... just a big car in the sky... totally fine," she whispered to herself.
But as the engines rumbled louder and the plane began to move, her body stiffened. The pressure in her ears made her blink fast, and her stomach twisted like she was falling down a hill.
She turned her head slowly, eyes wide and looked at Leonardo across the aisle.
He sat calmly, one leg crossed, completely relaxed, typing something on his laptop like they were still sitting in an office.
And that’s when Isabella had a horrible realization.
She should’ve sat next to him.
She thought having space between them would make her feel less awkward, but now?
Now she just felt scared. Alone. And very, very aware of the fact that they were about to fly into the clouds.
Her hands gripped the armrests tightly.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Okay... okay, I regret this."
Leonardo glanced at her, his eyes pausing when he saw her face.
Her lips were pressed together. Her knuckles were white from holding the seat. Her legs were stiff and locked in place.
He watched her for a moment... then closed his laptop quietly.
Without a word, he unbuckled, walked across the aisle, and sat down in the seat next to her.
Isabella looked at him with wide eyes.
He reached over, and without asking, gently pulled her hand off the armrest and held it.
Just held it.
His palm was warm. His fingers steady.
"You’ll be fine." His voice was low and cold.
Isabella froze the moment Leonardo’s hand touched hers.
Her heart skipped.
Then it stuttered.
Then it started beating so fast, it didn’t even feel like her own anymore.
His hand was so much larger than hers–warm, rough, and calloused. Her own hand looked small, almost like a child’s in comparison. It felt like she had no place there.
His cold gray eyes locked onto her with sharp, intense focus as if they could see straight through her.
She looked down quickly, but her neck had already turned red, and she could feel the heat spreading to her ears. His stare wasn’t even flirtatious. It was just... intense. Serious. The kind that made her feel like she was standing on a wire.
What does he even think all day? She wondered, chewing the inside of her cheek.
Does he ever laugh? Does he secretly like cartoons? Is he childish inside or is he really as cold as he looks on the outside?
Her eyes flicked up again—just a peek.
He was still watching her.