Then stopped.
For several seconds, she stared toward her uniform hanging beside the closet.
She needed the job.
Her younger brother had recently begun college.
Her parents were helping with tuition.
And Claire had taken on additional financial responsibilities after her father experienced a period of unemployment.
She had spent years building her career.
She didn't want one passenger dispute to damage it.
Finally, she sent the message.
Please confirm the CEO has approved reassignment of Seat 1A and that the VIP passenger clearance reflects all applicable safety restrictions.
She waited.
An hour passed.
Then a response arrived.
Confirmed by Commercial Operations. Proceed with standard VIP service.
Claire read it.
She still didn't like the arrangement.
But she believed she'd done the appropriate thing by requesting clarification.
On the afternoon of Flight 907, she boarded early.
Prepared the cabin.
Checked the catering.
And reviewed the passenger list with the captain.
Then Gavin Royce arrived.
He walked through the cabin wearing the black-and-gold leather jacket, carrying an expensive phone, and chewing bubblegum.
He looked toward the polished table.
Then toward Seat 1A.
“That's mine.”
Claire nodded cautiously.
“Welcome aboard, Mr. Royce.”
He sat.
Placed both shoes on the table.
And asked for champagne before the aircraft had even finished boarding.
Claire politely requested that he remove his shoes.
He ignored her.
She asked again.
He called her incompetent.
Then Noelle Ashford appeared at the cabin entrance holding the original boarding pass.
And Claire realized the assurances she'd received from commercial operations might have been entirely wrong.
Back inside the cabin of Flight 907, Gavin Royce stood facing Noelle with his hands planted on his hips.
His shoes were finally off the table.
But the damage to the atmosphere was already done.
Claire stood beside the aisle, holding the cabin communication handset with trembling fingers. Through the open door, the bright afternoon sunlight reflected off the white fuselage and the ground-service vehicles waiting near the private terminal.
Gavin looked at Noelle.
“Do you have any idea what happens to a company when its lenders lose confidence?”
She remained still.
“I know what our financing agreements say.”
He smiled.
“Then you know the next twenty-four hours are going to be unpleasant.”
Noelle studied him.
For a moment, she considered the possibility that he was simply bluffing.
Wealthy men had threatened her company before.
Some believed mentioning their lawyers would end an argument.
Others assumed that a person who owned several aircraft must be desperate to avoid embarrassing an expensive customer.