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Her flight to her west coast conference is today. I look down at my watch. 5:55 a.m. She was supposed to take off at 6:45. Hell, I’ll never make it. And I’d promised. I swore on my life that I’d be on that plane beside her so she wouldn’t have to face her worst fears alone.

And I’d left her hanging. Again.

“Fuck!” Pulling out my phone proves difficult as my hands are suddenly shaking violently. I hit speed dial for Sebastian.

“Sam?” Sebastian answers on the second ring. “What’s going on?”

“Bas!” I pant, throwing clothes into a duffel bag with one hand. “I need your help. Please,” I beg. “I screwed up. Gavin called and needed my help last night. I was so excited he reached out to me I completely lost track of the fact I missed dinner with Alexis. I’m sure she thinks I stood her up. She’s probably at the airport right now, getting ready to board your plane for her conference. We arranged this flight because she’s terrified, Sebastian. I don’t know what to do.”

My brother goes quiet for a moment, making me wonder if the call was dropped. “Sam… she can’t do that flight alone. Not with her history.”

“That’s what I’m trying to fucking tell you! What do I do? Please help me!” I shout into the receiver as I make a mad dash for the car. “I need you to help me get on that plane.”

“What on earth do you want me to do? They’re probably doing flight checks, getting ready to take off.”

“It’s your private jet!” I’m shrieking like a madman. My voice cracks with absolute desperation. “Call your pilot. Pull every billionaire string you have. Please, Bas. Just get me on that damn jet with my wife!”

Chapter Forty-Two

Lexi

The air inside the cabin feels thin, stale. I’m completely suffocating.

I sit buckled in my seat for twenty minutes, hoping against hope, watching the aisle, praying to see his stupid broad frame step through the boarding door. Whether he stood me up last night or not, I need him now. Him and his hypnotic scent. His overconfident charisma. That ridiculous idiot can make me forget what’s happening around me.

Then the door closes.

Panic starts to take flight in my veins, my entire body overwhelmed from the uncontrolled tremors. “You’ve got this, Alexis. Just breathe. You’ve got this,” I chant with tears pouring down my face. I bend forward, nearly doubled in half, trying to place my head between my knees and slow my breathing. That and to prevent any undue attention. The last thing I need is for them to halt the flight because I’m a hysterical mess.

The flight attendants completed their safety checks.

He really isn’t coming.

A chilling numbness settles deep into my bones, followed by a wave of agonizing clarity. I guess it really is over. I was stupid enough to believe his promises. I was stupid enough to think a handful of wildflowers meant I mattered to him.

The engines whine.

Stop thinking about that selfish asshole, Alexis. Focus your breathing. Jeez, why didn’t I prepare better for this? Read some books that would give me techniques to handle my anxiety? I’m normally so prepared for any challenge.

Oh, yeah. Because he was going to be here.

I never gave it a second thought. Because, just like after the kidnapping, I trusted him to keep me safe. Well, never again. I need to get back to the Lexi I was before this dumbass contract. Rely on myself.

No one else.

A powerful vibration rattles straight through the floorboards and into my teeth. My lungs begin to seize. The walls of the cabin feel like they’re closing in. It’s as if the oxygen is being squeezed right out of my chest.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe.

I slam my head further between my knees, wrapping my trembling arms around my legs in a desperate bid to slow my racing heart. I’m a doctor, for God’s sake. I know the physiology of a panic attack. I know my brain is firing false alarm signals. It’s flooding my bloodstream with adrenaline. I should know better. I should be able to control this.

But logic doesn’t mean a damn thing when you’re fifteen years old again, sitting in the dark, imagining the roar of a plane that took your parents away. Forever.

The jet begins to roll forward, accelerating down the tarmac. The sheer speed presses me down. My breathing devolves into harsh, ragged gasps.

Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.

Darkness edges the corners of my vision. Spots and flickering stars dance across the back of my eyelids. My mouth and hands tingle as hyperventilation takes full control.