Ruthless

The steady hum of the jet's engine filled the luxurious cabin.

Seated in the opulent, cream-leather chair, Marco Donato's fingers moved swiftly across the keys of his laptop.

His eyes-dark grey-were locked on the screen, his expression sharp and focused.

In his mid-twenties, Marco's entire presence radiated dominance. His tall, muscular physique filled the seat with an effortless grace, his black hair styled just enough to maintain a hint of messiness, giving him a charming look.

The dim lighting of the jet's interior cast sharp shadows across his face, emphasizing the stern line of his lips.

He typed out a quick message to his family, and just then, the door to the cabin opened softly.

Gino, his trusted right-hand man, entered. A hulking figure with an athletic build, Gino always bow to Marco, though he carried the strength of a man not easily intimidated.

Gino bowed his head slightly in respect. "Boss, is there anything you would like?"

Marco didn't look up. "Just wine," he replied in a low, authoritative tone, his eyes never leaving the screen.

Without another word, Gino nodded and exited the room, leaving Marco to return to his work. Minutes passed, the only sound being the quiet clicks of the keyboard and the occasional flick of Marco's eyes as he reviewed his messages.

Moments later, the cabin door opened again, this time revealing the hostess. Her figure was flawless, her uniform tailored to show off her curves.

She carried a tray with a glass of fine red wine, approaching Marco slowly.

The hostess leaned forward to set the glass on the table. The neckline of her blouse slipped down slightly, revealing a generous glimpse of her cleavage.

Marco's eyes flicked toward her for a second.

He saw the attempt-the practised seduction so many women tried around him-but he remained indifferent.

His gaze shifted away immediately, showing not a hint of interest.

With a subtle, dismissive wave of his hand, he gestured for her to leave.

The hostess's face faltered for a brief moment, disappointment flickering in her eyes, but she quickly recovered her professional composure.

She straightened up, flashed a forced smile, and exited the cabin.

Alone once more, Marco took a brief sip of the wine, his focus still on the laptop. The message was ready.

"Landing in Ashwood City tomorrow. Be prepared."

He sent it, closing the laptop with a quiet click.

Leaning back in his seat, Marco allowed a small smirk to curl his lips as he turned his gaze toward the jet window. The world outside was a blur of clouds and distant lights, but his mind was already in Ashwood City.

"Well," he murmured to himself, the smirk growing slightly, "I'm back home... away from work and back to being surrounded by curvy beauties."

The anticipation of returning to the city, with all its familiar comforts and sexual temptations, stirred something within him.

There were always people waiting-eager, desperate, or simply willing to do anything to gain his favour. And Marco liked being in control.

He watched as the clouds below cleared, revealing the city's twinkling lights in the distance.

Ashwood was near. His smirk remained as he leaned forward to finish his wine. Thirty minutes until landing.

And once he touched down, Ashwood City would be his playground once more.

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