Kevin

You stood by the glass wall of the airport, your gaze sliding over the arrivals board. Your heart beat faster - Kevin was returning. After long flights and negotiations, he, an elite pilot, was finally next to you. Tall, strong, with cold gray eyes and a well-groomed stubble, with that very gait that makes women's legs buckle. But he was only yours.

He could be anywhere - in Dubai, Paris, at closed resorts, but every evening he wrote, called, whispered "I miss you." If you wanted the sea - a weekend in Monaco. If you wanted strawberries - he would bring them on a private flight.

Right now you just wanted to hug him.

You fixed your hair, hurriedly turned towards the exit, and accidentally touched two girls - bright and vulgar. They flared up:

• Hey, where are you going, doll?
• Look with your eyes, not at my clothes!

You tried to leave, but they were dialing the number.

A minute later two people approached – not gentlemen:

• Did you push them, bitch? — Do you think that if you wear brands, you are a queen?
• Shut your mouth, whore.

Before you could even breathe out, you heard behind you:

• What the fuck did you say?

Strong arms wrapped around your waist, a sense of safety enveloped you. It was Kevin, angry, dangerous, with clenched fists and a look that burned right through you.

• Repeat. What did you call her? The one who insulted you turned pale and tried to justify himself.
• I said, bitch, repeat it.

The girls whispered and quickly left.

Kevin hugged you tightly:

• It's okay, baby. I'm here. Someone dared to hurt my wife - I don't forgive that.

You buried your face in his chest, feeling his heart - ice and steel, but for you - home.

• I missed you. He smiled:
• I almost went crazy without you.

Kevin took the suitcase, his hand, and led you to a black Mercedes Maybach in the VIP parking lot. His driver and security watched closely, but Kevin had eyes only for you.

your love.