Chapter 1 — Assignment to the Sky

Izzy

The low hum of chatter and the rhythmic clatter of rolling suitcases echoed through the bright expanse of the international terminal. Izzy Grant tightened her grip on the strap of her sleek black carry-on bag, her polished uniform—a crisp blazer and tailored skirt—blending seamlessly with the flow of travelers. Her blazer brushed lightly against her arm as she walked, her steps exuding the practiced calm and precision she’d honed over years on the job.

Today should have been routine. But the unexpected reassignment to a new international route had thrown a wrench into her usual order, leaving her reeling from an early-morning email that hadn’t even allowed her time to properly finish her coffee. Adjusting the strap of her bag, she mentally repeated her mantra: Stay professional. Focus on the task. No turbulence is insurmountable.

With a steadying breath, she pushed through the glass doors of the crew briefing room, leaving behind the cacophony of the terminal for the cool, orderly quiet of the space. The faint aroma of brewed coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the sterile scent of polished floors and fabric upholstery.

Mia Torres was already sprawled in one of the high-backed chairs, her signature vibrant scarf—a swirl of bold reds and yellows—adding a splash of personality against the navy tones of her uniform. She leaned back, her ever-present air of mischief lighting up her expression as she caught sight of Izzy.

“Well, if it isn’t Ms. Professionalism herself,” Mia teased with a sly grin, twirling the end of her scarf like a cat toying with a string.

Izzy rolled her eyes but allowed a faint smile to tug at her lips. “Let’s not,” she replied, setting her bag with practiced precision beside her chair. “I woke up to an email about this new route. Barely had time to finish my coffee before I had to throw my life into a carry-on.”

Mia leaned forward, resting her chin on her fist with a gleeful glint in her eye. “What’s this I hear about you being paired with the Great Iceberg himself?”

Izzy froze mid-motion, her hand halfway to adjusting the hem of her blazer. “The what now?”

“Captain Lucas Hayes,” Mia clarified, leaning in as though imparting scandalous gossip. “Tall, broody, smarter-than-thou type? The galley grapevine says he’s a top-notch pilot but about as personable as a seatbelt sign.”

“Fantastic.” Izzy exhaled, sinking back into her chair. “Just what I need—a walking HR headache.”

Mia chuckled, the sound rich with amusement. “I mean, look at it this way—at least it’s never boring.” She tilted her head, her teasing softening slightly. “Seriously though, just keep your wit sharp and your boundaries sharper. Worst-case scenario, he freezes you out. Literally.”

Izzy gave her a flat look. “Great pep talk, Mia. You should write motivational speeches for HR.”

Mia grinned, shrugging unapologetically. “What can I say? I’m a giver.”

Their banter was cut short by the soft click of the door opening. The atmosphere shifted, a subtle ripple of expectation running through the room as a figure stepped inside. The click of polished shoes against the tiled floor carried an unspoken authority.

“Good afternoon, ladies.”

Izzy turned and immediately recognized him. Captain Lucas Hayes.

He was taller than she’d imagined, his uniform immaculate, the navy-and-gold tailoring fitting his lean frame with precision. His dark blond hair was cut short, neat but unassuming, and his piercing blue eyes scanned the room like he was cataloging every detail. He moved with the quiet confidence of someone accustomed to control, his composed expression revealing nothing of what might lie beneath.

Izzy rose instinctively, extending her hand. “Isabelle Grant. Izzy. I’ll be your lead flight attendant on this route.”

For a moment, Lucas hesitated, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that made her spine straighten. Then his hand met hers—a firm, deliberate handshake. His skin was cool, his grip steady without being overbearing.

“Captain Lucas Hayes,” he replied, his tone as measured as his movements. “I’ve reviewed the roster. I trust we’ll work well together.”

His words were polished, professional... and utterly devoid of warmth. They carried the exact energy of an airline safety manual: efficient and detached. Izzy resisted the urge to bristle, instead matching his composure. She wasn’t about to let herself get rattled.

Mia, of course, was unbothered by the tension. She leaned back in her chair, a grin playing on her lips. “So, Captain, any chance you’ll grace us with one of those rousing speeches about the magic of international travel?”

Lucas’s lips twitched—just barely—before his expression settled back into its usual cool reserve. “I’ll save my speeches for the passengers, Ms. Torres,” he said, his voice carrying a faint, dry humor.

Mia shot Izzy a quick look, her raised eyebrow practically shouting, “See? He’s human.” Izzy ignored her, smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her sleeve as Lucas stepped toward the head of the table.

“Shall we proceed to the briefing?” he asked, glancing at the clock on the wall.

Izzy nodded, reclaiming her seat as he began. The briefing was efficient, almost clinical, with Lucas outlining the flight plan in concise, commanding terms. His voice never wavered, each detail delivered with the ease of a man who had rehearsed this a hundred times over. Izzy listened carefully, jotting notes as needed, but found her attention occasionally drifting to the subtleties in his demeanor—the way he adjusted the cuffs of his uniform or scanned the room with calculated intent.

When his gaze briefly met hers while discussing passenger protocols, she felt a flicker of tension—not intimidation, exactly, but something sharper, heavier, and harder to pinpoint. She forced herself to focus, straightening in her seat. Whatever tension Lucas Hayes carried, it wasn’t her place—or her problem—to untangle.

By the time the briefing ended, Izzy was eager to escape the glass-enclosed room. Mia caught up with her as they headed toward the gate, her steps quick and light compared to Izzy’s more measured pace.

“Well?” Mia asked, her tone conspiratorial. “What’s the verdict?”

Izzy exhaled, brushing a stray strand of hair back into her sleek ponytail. “I think he’s exactly what you described—brilliant, broody, and definitely allergic to small talk.”

Mia chuckled. “At least he didn’t chew you out. That’s a win.”

Izzy shook her head, the corners of her lips twitching despite herself. “I’ll keep it professional. That’s all that matters.”

“Uh-huh,” Mia said with a knowing grin. “But if he ever cracks a real smile, you owe me a drink.”

Rolling her eyes, Izzy quickened her pace, letting the teasing wash over her. As they reached the gate, she paused, taking a moment to center herself. Her focus sharpened as she slipped into her role, her warm smile and soothing tone smoothing over even the most frazzled passengers. This was her element—a world of routine and reassurance, where she could control the turbulence around her.

But as she glanced toward the cockpit door and caught sight of Lucas standing there, his sharp, assessing gaze sweeping the boarding line, she felt a flicker of unease. There was something about him—something contained, almost impenetrable. And though she’d resolved to keep things strictly professional, the nagging thought crept into the back of her mind: Captain Lucas Hayes might prove to be more complicated than she’d anticipated.