The private flight from Kensington City back to St. Lawrence took off during a gloomy afternoon beneath a sky full of ashen, gray clouds. The atmosphere inside the aircraft cabin maintained such a profound stillness that one could clearly hear the low, rhythmic hum of the engines as they sliced through the layers of clouds.
Julian Sterling was draped in a thin, ash-gray turtleneck sweater, his entire body sinking deeply into the plush leather armchair, his head resting completely against Ethan Caldwell's broad shoulder.
After last night's fierce intimacy, compounded by the absorption of an overwhelming amount of information this morning, Julian's mind right now felt like a strip of silk pulled so taut it was on the verge of snapping. Despite that, he did not close his eyes for even a moment of sleep.
