Chapter Five - The Flight Home

Sienna’s POV

Eric rolled his suitcase effortlessly beside me, while I tried to pretend like my life wasn’t falling apart in slow-motion.

He had suggested—very casually, like it was nothing—that we hire a private jet.

“A private jet, Eric,” I’d repeated. “Do I look like someone who can afford a private jet?”

He’d looked at me with those maddeningly calm eyes.

“I'll foot the bill. Besides, we need some privacy, especially with that video on the internet.”

“No.” I refused.

Taking a private jet is not the solution to our problem right now.

So now, after a long conversation—and me promising for the tenth time that I would pay him back—we were standing in the First Class boarding area.

“I’ll transfer the money as soon as we get to New York,” I mumbled for maybe the sixth time.

He gave me a sideways look, one eyebrow raised slightly. “Sienna, it’s fine.”

“It’s not. I don’t want to owe you anything. Not even a fancy seat on a fancy plane.”

His lips twitched. “You think First Class is fancy?”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, “I’m trying not to feel like I’m dating a billionaire.”

“We’re married, actually,” he said lightly.

“Eric,” I warned.

He raised his hands in surrender, but that damn smile stayed.

We sat down in the perfectly clean First Class lounge. The place smelled like fresh coffee and expensive leather. I sank into a chair that probably cost more than my salary. Eric sat opposite me, scrolling through something on his tablet.

“So,” he said finally, “what is your family like?”

“Well, my mom worries a lot, my dad acts cool but low-key panics and my sister is overly dramatic.”

He stared at me. “This trip is going to be interesting.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” I said, leaning back. “It gets better.

My dad’s going to pepper you with questions. My mom will probably threaten you and Jess might ask you to buy her a new iPhone.”

Eric blinked. “A new iPhone?”

I nodded solemnly. “It’s her love language.”

Before he could respond, the announcement for First Class boarding echoed across the lounge.

Eric stood up and held out a hand to take my bag but I pulled it closer.

“I got it.”

“Sienna, it’s a carry-on.”

“Yes, and I can carry it on.”

His jaw flexed like he wanted to argue, but he let it go.

We walked onto the plane, and I swear the air smelled different.

Our seats were enormous, practically mini rooms. The flight attendant greeted Eric by name.

“Mr. Macmillan, good to have you onboard again.”

I shot him a look.

He leaned toward me and whispered, “I fly through here a lot.”

“Of course you do,” I muttered. “Do you also have a favorite seat on every airline?”

“Yes.”

I groaned loudly enough that a businessman across from us glanced up.

Eric hid a smile behind his hand.

We settled into our seats, and I tried not to look impressed. Eric didn’t even try to hide how amused he was at my reactions.

“You don’t have to be so tense,” he said gently. “We’ll be in New York soon, and then everything will be alright.”

“Eric, I’m about to introduce my parents to my accidental billionaire-husband. Nothing about that seems alright.”

He tilted his head slightly, thinking.

“True. But I’ll handle it.”

“You can’t handle my parents,” I said immediately. “They’re immune to billionaire charm.”

He smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

I rolled my eyes and buckled my seatbelt.

But then his voice softened, so unexpectedly I had to look at him.

“Sienna, I know this is overwhelming for you. This whole thing happened so fast, but I want you to know something.”

“What?”

“We’re in this together. Even if it’s temporary.”

For a second, I almost forgot how to breathe. I was lost in the softness of his voice and the blue of his eyes.

The pilot announced takeoff, saving me from having to respond. Because honestly, I didn't know how to respond to that.

As the plane lifted off, I stared out the window, watching Miami shrink into tiny dots of light. I wasn’t sure what scared me more; the drama waiting to unfold in New York, or the calm I felt sitting next to a man I just met.

*****

I tried so hard not to check my phone again but the temptation was too much. Soon, I was scrolling through the comments again.

“Ugh,” I groaned loudly, slumping lower into my seat. “Why are people like this?”

Without warning, Eric leaned slightly over the armrest and plucked the phone out of my hands.

“Hey!” I protested.

He held it out of reach before locking the screen. “Stop reading the comments.”

“I was just checking—”

“No.” He set my phone facedown on the tray table. “All they’re doing is stressing you out. And they don’t know you.”

I threw my head back with an exaggerated sigh. “I know, but it’s like watching a train wreck which I very much caused.”

He gave me a look. “You didn’t cause anything. Someone just captured a fun moment at a convenient angle.”

“Fun?” I deadpanned. “It didn't look like fun to the public. We looked serious, Eric.”

His mouth curved slightly.

“Still a good angle.”

I squinted at him.

He stared back, completely unbothered.

“Are you seriously complimenting the angle of the paparazzi video right now?” I asked.

“Yes,” he replied calmly.

I tried not to laugh but failed.

When I leaned back, he reached out and gently lifted my chin with two fingers.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That little frown.” His tone was honest. “You look too pretty to be wasting that expression on strangers online.”

My brain short-circuited.

I blinked slowly because my entire bloodstream had apparently turned into warm syrup.

“Pretty?” I repeated, like an idiot.

He let his hand drop but not before his thumb brushed lightly over my chin—a soft touch that sent tiny fireworks under my skin.

“Very,” he said, as if it were the simplest fact in the world.

My heart did something weird—like a cartwheel and belly flop combined.

To hide my face, and my very obvious blush, I turned to the window.

But then, because life hated me, the glossy black screen of the seat in front of me reflected my face perfectly; flushed cheeks, pink ears, and wide eyes.

Oh God.

I could tell Eric noticed because I heard the tiny amused huff he tried to disguise as a cough.

*****

The captain’s voice filtered through the speakers, calmly announcing our arrival in New York. I startled awake, my neck a bit stiff, and a small line of drool on my hand.

“We’re here,” Eric said gently.

For a moment, I just sat there, blinking before I slowly stood.

The moment we exited the main arrival hall, it felt like the world exploded.

There were camera flashes and so many loud voices.

“Miss, this way!”

“Eric, look here!”

“Is it true you two eloped?!”

“Mr. Macmillan, are you taking your new bride to meet your family?”

“Ma’am, how did you meet the British billionaire heir?!”

Microphones, cameras, phones—hundreds, maybe thousands. It was like every entertainment blog, gossip page, and confused traveler had formed a fast, aggressive mob in front of us.

The flashing lights were so bright I instinctively shielded my face.

“What the— Eric!” I hissed, but he was already moving.

He stepped in front of me, one arm extended back as a barrier, guiding me behind him with steady pressure. His entire posture changed into protectiveness in an instant.

“Stay close,” he murmured.

Like I was going anywhere else.

The paparazzi surged forward in waves.

“ERIC, HOW DID YOU GUYS MEET?”

“IS SHE PREGNANT?”

Oh my God.

“What?!” I choked. “Why would…who would even…? Eric, they think I’m…”

“Ignore it,” he said calmly.

My heart hammered violently against my ribs, and a dizzy wave of claustrophobia washed over me. I felt like I was drowning in light and sound.

“Eric…” My voice cracked.

He turned just enough to look back at me. His eyes softened instantly.

“I’ve got you,” he said quietly.

Something steadied inside me until a man shoved an oversized camera lens so close I could see my reflection in it.

“Give us a kiss!” he yelled. “Look here! Right here!”

Eric moved so fast I barely registered it, and the photographer stumbled back, startled.

“My wife is not a spectacle,” he said sharply.

Wife.

Hearing him say that word out loud—even if it wasn't real—in front of a crowd did something strange and warm to my chest.

Security was desperately trying to push people aside, but the crowd was too thick. Someone grabbed my arm, and I gasped.

Eric snapped around. “Don’t touch her.”

His voice dropped low, edged with authority that sent the guy stumbling away.

I was seconds from either passing out or punching someone when suddenly, a sleek black SUV screeched to a stop in front of us.

The back door flew open and a middle-aged man leaned out the door

“Eric!” he called out. “Get in! Now!”

Eric’s face lit up.

“Connor?”

“Move!” the man barked.

Before I could react, Eric grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the car.