Love at first howl

The private jet hummed softly as it cut through the early morning sky, carrying Lucia Carrington, CEO of Carrington Enterprises, away from the sharp angles of the city skyline and toward the soft, curved edges of an exclusive island retreat. She settled into her plush leather seat, tucking a silk scarf behind her neck, her mind far from the island’s warm, beckoning shores.

As the aircraft ascended, Lucia allowed her gaze to wander over the pristine horizon. Despite the flawless blue sky stretching out before her, her thoughts were murky, clouded with the one thing she couldn't escape: herself. She was only forty-three, a woman in her prime, celebrated for her business acumen and her razor-sharp intellect. Her company had survived global recessions, adapted to digital revolutions, and had only expanded its influence year by year.

But today, for some reason, that sense of victory tasted hollow. Lucia crossed her legs and leaned her head against the cool window, watching the clouds drift by. “Where did I get it wrong?” she thought, exhaling a breath she hadn't realized she’d been holding.

Her divorce, finalized nearly two years ago, had left a deep, invisible scar, though she had hardly shown it to the world. To the media, her employees, and even to her closest friends, she was the epitome of grace under pressure. She had always been in control—until she wasn’t.

Was it her? Had she prioritized her work too much? She replayed the argument with her ex-husband in her head like a broken record. He had accused her of being distant, obsessed with her empire, leaving no room for him. Was that true? Had she been too proud, too ambitious? Or had he simply not been man enough to handle her success?

Her musings were interrupted by the soft, efficient click of footsteps approaching. Lucia tensed slightly, not in the mood for idle conversation. She had chosen this private jet precisely because it promised solitude.

"Excuse me, Miss, may I?" a deep, baritone voice asked, politely motioning to the seat opposite her.

Without glancing up, she nodded curtly. She had no energy for small talk.

The man sat down quietly, unfolding a newspaper from the seat pocket in front of him. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of him—a tall, well-dressed man, probably in his late forties, with dark, salt-and-pepper hair. His presence wasn’t imposing, but there was something about the calm confidence in the way he moved that intrigued her.

Amelia's gaze returned to the clouds. She had already decided she wouldn’t engage. Not now, not here. This was her time to decompress, to unravel her tangled thoughts.

But after a few minutes of silence, the man spoke again, breaking into her reverie.

“Busy morning for you, I presume?”

Lucia hesitated, feeling the weight of expectation pressing in on her. She considered ignoring him. But something about the way he asked—polite, unobtrusive—made her glance in his direction.

She gave him a polite smile, not quite meeting his eyes. “Yes,” she said, her voice cool and detached. “You could say that.”

She hoped the brevity would signal the end of the conversation. It didn’t.

“Business or pleasure?”

A standard question, but one that struck an unexpected chord in Amelia. Was this trip business or pleasure? It was supposed to be a break—a chance to relax, regroup. But in her world, business was never far behind.

“Neither,” she said after a moment, surprising herself with the honesty. “Just…time to think.”

The man nodded, folding the newspaper and setting it aside. He leaned back in his seat, regarding her with a thoughtful expression.

“You run a business, don’t you?” His tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp, observant.

Lucia blinked. “Yes, I do,” she said, her voice measured. “How did you know?”

“You have the air of someone who makes decisions,” he replied smoothly. “Someone used to steering the ship.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?” Her voice was still cool, but there was a flicker of amusement in her eyes.

He nodded, undeterred by her hardheadedness. “It’s not just the way you carry yourself. It’s the way you look at things. Calculating, assessing…probably never quite turning your mind off, even when you’re supposed to be relaxing.”