Chapter 41 41.
Chapter 41 41.
Chapter 41: Ashley’s POV
The exact moment the heavy cabin door sealed shut, I realized something incredibly important.
Being trapped inside a pressurized steel tube at thirty thousand feet with my friends was a terrible idea. A genuinely, catastrophically terrible idea. Because apparently, the merciless teasing on the tarmac wasn't enough for them.
Now, they had several hours of uninterrupted flight time to continue it.
Wonderful.
The private plane's cabin was layout—magazine levels of spacious and luxurious. Not that I spent a single second appreciating the leather seats or the polished wood accents. I was far too busy fighting for my absolute life.
"Tell them, Marcus," I said, pointing an accusing finger across the aisle at him. "Please. Explain to them that you were just being polite."
Marcus slowly glanced up from whatever financial report he was reading on his tablet. His expression was a mask of pure, unbothered calm. "I was being polite."
"See?!" I looked triumphantly around the cabin, throwing my hands up. "Hear that? Polite!"
Unfortunately, nobody looked even remotely convinced. Especially not Vanessa.
To my utter shock, she had fully defected to the enemy team. The betrayal was deeply personal.
Vanessa took a slow, elegant sip of her coffee before casually dropping a grenade into the conversation. "That's the thing, Ashley."
I immediately didn't like the look in her eye. "What thing?"
She leveled me with a knowing gaze. "Marcus is usually polite. He knows how to behave in society."
"Exactly!"
"But not effortlessly."
I blinked, my triumphant smile faltering. "What does that even mean?"
Vanessa didn't answer me right away. Instead, she exchanged a loaded look with Steve—a look that concerned my nervous system greatly. Then, she let out a dramatic, long—suffering sigh.
"It was a public knowledge— Marcus and I dated. We actually tried."
Instantly, the entire cabin went dead silent. Every single ear in the room perked up. Troy looked like he was about to lean over the aisle just to catch every syllable.
I buried my face in my hands, groaning into my palms. Please, no. Spare me.
"But miserably failed," Steve laughed, leaning forward, already thoroughly entertained. "Marcus hates romance."
I glanced at Marcus, but he looked completely unbothered by the fact that his dating history was being put on display like a museum exhibit. Which somehow made it ten times worse.
Vanessa continued, ticking points off her manicured fingers. "We went on appropriate dates."
Steve nodded like a witness in a courtroom. "True. I saw them in a fine dining with their drivers."
"We traveled together to beautiful locations."
"With their drivers."
"We even attempted actual couple activities."
I frowned, completely fascinated now. "Attempted?"
Vanessa looked exhausted just retrieving the memory. "There was absolutely zero chemistry."
Troy gasped so loudly it sounded like he was running out of oxygen. "No chemistry? At all?!"
"None," Vanessa confirmed.
Marcus finally looked up from his tablet, his jaw tightening just a fraction. "We got along."
"Like excellent coworkers," Vanessa corrected smoothly.
"We were friends."
"Exactly. Friends who occasionally shared a dinner table."
The entire cabin erupted into a wave of laughter. Even Steve was chuckling. Meanwhile, Marcus calmly returned his attention to his tablet, as if being compared to a corporate cubicle buddy by his ex-girlfriend wasn't a total blow to his ego.
Then, Vanessa turned her gaze back to me, her finger pointing directly at my face. It felt highly threatening.
"But with Ashley—"
"No," I interjected immediately.
"—he does things completely naturally," she continued, ignoring my protest.
"No, he doesn't."
"—and the worst part is, he doesn't even realize he's doing them."
"Vanessa, stop."
"—which is honestly the most concerning part of it all."
Desperate, I looked toward the front seat. "Marcus! Tell her she's completely wrong."
Marcus looked at me. His dark eyes held mine for an agonizingly long beat. Then, unfortunately—he didn't say a single word.
The traitor. The absolute corporate traitor.
"Marcus!" I hissed.
"What?"
"Defend me!"
"You seem entirely capable of handling yourself, Ashley."
I stared at him, my jaw practically dropping. The absolute audacity of this man.
Meanwhile, Troy looked one second away from vibrating out of his seat with pure glee. "This is unbelievable. I'm witnessing history."
"For Pete's sake!" I groaned, slumping back against my leather seat. "The man is just being nice because I'm pregnant. It's a psychological response to a vulnerable situation. That's it!"
The cabin suddenly fell dead silent.
Then, Steve burst out laughing. Loudly.
Vanessa followed suit, a brilliant smile on her face, and even Mia looked thoroughly amused by my denial.
"What?" I demanded, my face burning. "What is so funny?"
Steve shook his head, wiping a tear from his eye. "Ashley."
"What?!"
"If Marcus Bryson starts treating every pregnant woman in the city the way he treats you, the country's birth rate is about to hit an all-time high."
My jaw dropped. Without a second thought, I grabbed the nearest silk throw pillow and launched it directly at Steve's face—ignoring the fact that he belongs in the boardroom.
He ducked, laughing even harder.
I whipped my head around to glare at Marcus, expecting him to at least look annoyed by the chaotic circus happening here.
But as I looked at him, my heart did a dangerous, violent stutter.
Because Marcus was looking down at his tablet, his shoulders shaking slightly, trying—and failing—not to smile.
A few hours later, the wheels of the private plane finally touched down on the tarmac in Manila.
Just like that—paradise was officially over.
The exact moment the aircraft slowed to a halt, the cabin was filled with a chorus of digital pings, chimes, and vibrations. Everyone’s phones were simultaneously exploding with notifications.
Reality had returned with a vengeance. Emails, meetings, unread messages, and endless responsibilities were flashing on our screens, demanding our attention.
I let out a dramatic, heartbroken sigh as I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood up. "Goodbye, vacation. You were too beautiful for this world."
"Welcome back to adulthood," Marcus said dryly, sliding his phone into his pocket as he stood up across the aisle.
I narrowed my eyes at him, adjusting the strap of my beach tote. "Some of us actually enjoyed Amanpulo, Marcus. You should try it sometime."
To my absolute surprise, Marcus stopped in his tracks. He looked down at me, his dark eyes holding mine for a brief, intense second before he replied.
"I noticed."
My breath hitched.
Simple. Just two words. But the weight behind them—the quiet implication that he had been paying close attention to me, watching my smiles, tracking my moods the entire trip—sent a sudden, intoxicating rush of warmth straight to my chest.
And somehow, long after we descended the steps, bypassed the VIP customs, and walked out of the private hangar into the thick, humid Manila air... that simple answer stayed with me, echoing in my mind the entire way home.