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.

Eric's POV

The moment the car doors slammed shut, the noise outside became muted. My chest was still tight, adrenaline buzzed under my skin.

How the hell did the paparazzi know we'll be landing in New York today?

Sienna looked a bit pale and was breathing in and out too quickly.

I leaned towards her. "Are you alright?"

She blinked, swallowed, then nodded. "Yeah." She said, trying to catch her breath.

For a moment, I wanted to pull her into my arms and just hold her until the tremor left her shoulders.

Connor merged into traffic like the road belonged to him, one hand on the wheel, the other adjusting his earpiece. "Well, that was bloody mad," he muttered, shaking his head.

I narrowed my eyes. "Connor, what the hell are you doing in New York?"

He gave me a short, clipped shrug in the rearview mirror. "Work, obviously. Your father sent me to handle a meeting with the Paterson Group. I was at the arrivals hall waiting for their rep to come in, but then the bloke messaged that his flight was delayed in Washington." He snorted softly. "So I thought I'd grab a coffee, maybe enjoy five minutes of peace before dealing with corporate nonsense."

He slowed at a red light and turned his head slightly toward us.

"And then I see half the bloody airport crowding the entrance like Taylor Swift was about to step out."

Sienna let out a small, nervous laugh.

Connor continued, "I overheard someone say, 'The British billionaire's landing with his new bride!"

He shot me a pointed look.

"And before you ask," Connor continued, "yes, I saw the viral video."

Beside me, Sienna stiffened.

I glared back. "It's not like that."

"Mm-hm," Connor hummed, far too entertained. "Anyway, I rushed outside and lo and behold, there you were, looking like a deer in headlights with pap lenses shoved up your nose."

I swallowed before asking the next question.

"Did my parents see the video too?"

Connor frowned. "I'm not sure, actually. I haven't had a single call from either of them today."

That's strange. My father calls the second anything disrupts the family image and my mother, even faster.

Before I could overthink it, Connor spoke again, his tone suddenly softer.

"They're worried about you, you know. Everyone back home has been trying to reach you since you left." He raised a brow. "But someone blocked every bloody person connected to the Macmillan estate."

I didn't reply and refused to look at Sienna although I could feel the curiosity rolling off of her in waves from the way she was looking at me.

Connor glanced at Sienna through the rear-view mirror, his voice smooth. "Right, I should probably introduce myself before I go whisking you around New York like some mad chauffeur," he said with a polite smile.

"I'm Connor Davies, Eric's personal assistant, professional chaos-manager, and apparently your unofficial getaway driver for the day. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mrs. Macmillan.

I rolled my eyes.

Sienna gave a small smile. "It's nice to meet you too, Connor. You can call me Sienna."

Connor gave a small nod.

"Anyway," he added, eyes flicking back to me, "I'm glad I spotted the two of you before the vultures outside did anything worse." He paused. "Sienna, are you absolutely alright? You looked ready to faint back there."

"I'm okay. Thank you for helping."

"My pleasure, ma'am." Then with a small grin, he added "And if I may say, you handled that chaos far better than some of Mr. Macmillan's previous acquaintances."

Sienna blinked. "What do you mean?"

I shot him a warning glare. "Connor."

"I'm only complimenting her, sir." He wiggled his eyebrows. "She's remarkably composed."

Sienna bit her lip, trying to hide her smile.

Connor said, "So then, how did you meet, if I'm allowed that question at least? You two were all over the tabloids this morning. I assumed you'd gone full bachelor-mode, but turns out you went and got married rather swiftly."

"It's a long story," I answered.

"That's what you say when the story is either incredibly romantic or incredibly disastrous," Connor muttered mostly to himself. "Judging by the paparazzi death match back there, I'm leaning toward both."

I scrubbed a hand over my face.

Sienna muttered something inaudible under her breath and stared out the window, watching the city blur past. Her hands folded on her lap.

Staring at her, I felt something similar to butterflies dancing in my belly. I've never had this instant connection with any woman before.

Connor cleared his throat gently, breaking me out of my Sienna–induced trance. "Well... consider yourselves rescued from the fire, I suppose. Where are we going next?"

Sienna straightened a little beside me. "Um...my place," she said quietly. "Thirty-two Madison Avenue, Brooklyn."

Connor nodded. "Brooklyn it is." He tapped the address into the GPS. "Hold tight. I'll get you there in one piece."

He switched lanes, his voice softening only slightly as he said, "For what it's worth, you two looked genuinely good together out there. Even under all that madness."

Sienna tensed a little.

I didn't say anything but deep down, I believed so too.