On top of worrying endlessly about breaking the news to his parents, she’d also spent a lot of time debating what to wear. Everything she knew about Frances and Phillip indicated that the event they were attending would be formal and glamorous. The nicest item in her closest was a lilac chiffon dress she’d worn when she was a bridesmaid, and she had the feeling that, pretty though it was, it wouldn’t be up to scratch. She’d made a phone call to her friend Clarissa, a bridal designer, and explained the situation, knowing she could trust Rissa to save her. Luckily, her friend had just the dress for the occasion.

“Aria.”

The rich voice sent a shiver racing down her spine, but she smiled casually in response, determined to play it cool. “Eli.”

He looked immaculate this morning, wearing a tailored suit that was no doubt meant to impress his parents. If his success so far hadn’t impressed them, she doubted anything could, but she approved of the suit anyway. The way it embraced his broad shoulders made her weak at the knees.

“Are you all packed?” he asked.

Aria nodded. “Ready to go.”

Sliding into the front seat of Eli’s Mercedes, she slipped on her sunglasses. “What will it be like tonight?”

“Nothing exciting,” he replied. “We’ll arrive, listen to some speeches, eat dinner and listen to some more speeches. There will be dancing and socializing until the end of the night. My mother likes to stay until things wind down, which is about two in the morning.”

They drove to the airport in silence. Aria grew more anxious the closer they came to boarding the plane. She hated flying. Abhorred it. Being hundreds of feet in the air in a tiny tube, while her stomach churned, was not her idea of a good time. Pretty much the opposite.

After they took their seats (first class, of course), she chewed furiously on gum, a habit that seemed to help. The plane began to move, and Aria closed her eyes, reminding herself it was only a short flight. An hour and a half, tops. But when the plane shook as it left the ground, she couldn’t keep calm anymore and grabbed Eli’s hand—big, sturdy and oddly reassuring. He gaped at her, and although she was mortified, she couldn’t let go.

“You’re afraid of flying?” he asked, his breath tickling her ear as he leaned closer.

“Yes.” She thought he’d laugh at her or make a joke, but, instead, he looked at their intertwined hands, at her white knuckles, and squeezed. Encouraged by his quiet support, she tried to explain. “I get really sick. I always take pills, but sometimes they don’t work. I prefer to keep my feet on the ground.”

Eli nodded and gently stroked her hand with his thumb. “Why didn’t you tell me?”