RENAISSANCE

25. The Ellington

The cold air of Saturday dawn seeped through the car's half-open windows, carrying with it the last murmurs of the sleeping city. Sitting in the back, I watched the deserted streets of New York pass by, bathed in the blue glow of dawn.

The silence in the car was broken only by the muffled sound of the radio and the conversation between Suzanne and Mike in the front seat. They spoke in hushed tones, almost as if afraid of shattering the fragile tranquility of the morning.

Isaac was there, to my left, his gaze fixed on the void in front of him. He had this way of getting lost in his thoughts, a voluntary isolation that intrigued me as much as it frustrated me.

Since our kiss, a strange current had circulated between us, a certain distance that he had imposed through his indifference towards me. He regretted.

We drove to the airport, where a private jet was waiting to take us to Las Vegas. I couldn't help but feel like a pawn on a chessboard where I didn't understand all the rules. Was it really necessary for me to be there? This question was playing over and over in my head.

The stranger and Mike's influential and dangerous family made my stomach churn. Because yes, it was their home that we were going to. According to the little information that they were kind enough to share with me, the Ellingtons would be one of the largest arms trafficking mafias in the United States, and my dear teammates would need their services. .

As we approached the airport, my heart began to beat faster. I had only been on a plane once in my life, and never on a private jet.

Isaac parked the car in a reserved space, away from the hustle and bustle of the main terminal. We each had only one small suitcase, our stay being only two nights.

The airport lobby was a stark contrast to the tranquility of our arrival. People from all walks of life were milling about, pulling suitcases, speaking in various languages. I suddenly felt small and insignificant in this human sea. Isaac remained close, his gaze sweeping the space around us with mercenary vigilance.

Suzan by my side, reassuring me, her hand sometimes finding mine in a gesture of support.

Inside the private jet, I felt uncomfortable, like I didn't belong here. Mike and Suzanne settled in with ease, picking up their conversation where they left off in the car. I listened to them with one ear, but my attention was captured by the novelty of my surroundings.

I choose a window seat, settling in with almost childish caution. Outside, dawn had finally broken, bathing the world in a soft, golden light. The plane started to roll slowly, then pick up speed, and suddenly we were in the air. I watched, fascinated, as the city shrank below us.

I turned my head to my left, and saw that Isaac had moved into the other window seat as well. He looked through it but seemed disinterested in the view before him. I couldn't guess if it was because he was used to the sight, or if it was because something was bothering him. Maybe a little of both.

I thought back to our kiss, to this moment which had been so different from anything I had experienced until now. I resigned myself to telling myself that it meant nothing, but some part of me wanted another answer, something else.

Then after a few hours of flight during which I dozed off, the jet finally began its descent. Excitement mixed with apprehension in my stomach as we hit the ground. The plane's door opened, revealing the dry, hot desert air.

When we got off, a luxurious black car was waiting for us with a dark-haired man at his side, of imposing stature, and as tall as Isaac. His short, dark hair was carefully styled, and a few days' stubble highlighted his jawline.