The forward galley was a small, mirrored alcove at the nose of the jet with two crew jump seats, a stainless steel prep counter, a coffee machine that cost more than most cars, and a sliding privacy curtain that sealed the space off from the rest of the cabin like a confessional booth for the filthy rich.
Most flights, two attendants worked it in shifts. This flight, only one was there when Phei pulled the curtain aside and stepped in like he owned the very air she breathed while she worked on this jet.
She turned at the sound.
And the moment her eyes found his face, something in her lit up like a fuse in a powder keg.
Disturbingly it wasn't the polite professional brightening she'd been trained for and to Phei's expectation, it was not the customer-service smile she'd been giving every other passenger for the past three hours.
