Chapter 71

The private jet took off from the international airport, breaking through the thick evening clouds. The cabin temperature was just right, and even the air oxygen levels were higher than those of a regular commercial plane, providing a perfectly refreshing, cool sensation. Since Van's private jet travels frequently, the onboard services weren't outsourced to a public charter company but were directly handled by a full crew of his own. The captain, co-pilot, and flight attendants were all his people. They were familiar with his travel needs, personal habits, and work routines, as well as with his associates, Eric, his secretary, and the bodyguards traveling with him. Noticing Winnie's confused and distracted glances, Van called to her, "Come over here." Winnie walked over to Van's seat and, with ease, sat down on his lap. Van turned his face away in slight disbelief, curling his lips into a faint smile. But when Winnie looked up, she saw his expression and tone were darker, "I told you to sit opposite me, not on my lap." Winnie hurried to get up, but Van quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her back to sit on his lap. "Since you're sitting, don't get up." Winnie had been hot throughout the ride, and now, with Van so close, her face turned red, a warm, fragrant aura enveloping her, lingering in the air and mixing with Van's breath. Van's long fingers naturally reached toward her neck, gently pushing her hair aside. Winnie instantly stiffened. Van lowered his gaze to glance at the moisture on his fingertips, then extended them toward her, coldly and inquisitively asking, "Why are you sweating so much?" "Not wearing clothes underneath?" he asked directly. "I am!" Winnie jumped, her voice loud in response. "Then take it off, don't make yourself sick." He untied the bow on Winnie's chest, and her beige cashmere coat, drawn by gravity, fell from her legs. Her semi-transparent chiffon skirt barely covered half of her chest, and her creamy lace bra was faintly visible. The air between them seemed to freeze. Winnie, caught off guard, couldn't react at all, blushing and staring at him in disbelief. Van's gaze lingered for a couple of seconds on her chest, and Winnie felt a sweat break out on her neck, her chest flushed, with fine beads of sweat tracing down her curves, disappearing into the deep V of her cleavage. Winnie wasn't sure how to explain herself. "I left early this morning to try on some clothes, and after work, I decided to go to the spa, so I just thought about convenience... and..." He gentlemanly adjusted her collar, stopping her explanation. "But don't you think you like wearing sleepwear a bit too much?" Winnie did have a whole collection of sleepwear—high-count cotton, silk, chiffon, and colorful ones that filled an entire wardrobe. When she had no appointments, she would wear them at home or in hotels. "Sleepwear is comfortable," she replied, feeling guilty. Van stared at her quietly. "Comfortable enough to always answer the door in sleepwear for others?" He brought up old matters, but Winnie denied it. She lowered her gaze to meet his eyes and quietly defended herself. "Not always, and there weren't any others—only you, who always see me like this..." Van's breath caught, his hands almost pulling her into his arms, unable to resist the urge. But he restrained himself. After two seconds, he controlled his breathing and exhaled deeply through his nose, then grabbed his dark red scarf from the overhead compartment and draped it over Winnie's shoulders, his warm fingers brushing against her exposed skin. Winnie couldn't help but blush again. She quickly wrapped the scarf around herself, sitting up more properly. "By the way, how long are we going to be in Europe?" Van asked casually, "Three days. Do you have work?" Winnie thought for a moment. The fashion event would be three days after their return, so the schedule wasn't too tight. She could still adjust to the time difference. "If I had work, would you let me go?" she asked. "No," Van smiled slightly and replied. "I told you before, there are two banquets and a few film festivals." Van sat down across from her. "Are you walking the red carpet?" "Yeah." "The last one was nice," Van remarked nonchalantly. Winnie laughed. "That one was borrowed from the brand. I wore it once, and I can't wear it again." "The one you wore to dinner with me would work too." Winnie laughed even more, holding a magazine in her arms. "That one's even worse; it's not from a brand." Van smoothly transitioned to ask, "So how are you doing with your red carpet dress?" "I've already chosen it," Winnie said, not venting her frustrations. He had planned to be casual, to wait for Winnie to ask for his help, but she always maintained this air of pride and calm indifference in front of him. On the dark, luxurious wooden dining table, Van set down his whiskey glass. Looking down at Winnie from above, he gently played with her chin. "You don't have any troubles, do you?"