When we landed in Dubai, Aaron seemed... off.
He held my hand tightly, too tightly, his palm damp with sweat. His eyes kept flicking between his phone screen and the tinted windows of the waiting car. His thumb hovered over a text he never sent.
"You okay?" I asked, trying to read the tension in his jaw.
He wiped his forehead with a crisp, monogrammed handkerchief and nodded. "I just want this dinner to go well... I want you to enjoy yourself."
I blinked at him. Dinner? "Aaron, it's just business. Relax. I've got this."
The words tasted odd on my tongue. For someone who practically oozed control and confidence in meetings, he was unraveling now, thread by anxious thread. The car ride stretched on in awkward silence, broken only by the occasional notification pinging from his phone. I could feel the tension buzzing off him like static.
Whoever we were about to meet clearly mattered—a lot.
Naturally, I expected a five-star restaurant. Maybe a sleek rooftop lounge. Possibly a conference suite in a hotel with too many chandeliers.
What I didn't expect was a palatial estate with wrought iron gates, floor-to-ceiling windows, and a driveway packed with cars that looked like they'd been airlifted from Monaco. The estate glittered like something out of a movie—too much glass, too many columns. The kind of place where people had staff for their staff.
Before I could fully process the scene, Aaron was already out of the car and around to my side, opening the door like a man marching into a war he wasn't ready for.
"This isn't a restaurant," I said slowly, taking in the mansion. "Whoever you're meeting is filthy rich."
Aaron pulled me in close, brushing my hair behind my ear. His lips grazed my cheek. "Alaina… don't be mad at me, okay?"
My stomach dropped. "You brought me to Dubai... to have Thanksgiving dinner with your family?"
He sighed, already bracing himself for my reaction. "I'm sorry. I knew you wouldn't come if I told you."
I stared at him, blinking. "Aaron. I'm dressed like I'm about to pitch a digital merger, not carve a turkey with strangers. I haven't even had time to mentally prepare for this."
"We'll be fine," he said, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Let's just get this over with."
But before I could answer—or run—the front door flew open. A woman with wild red curls came barreling toward us, waving a bottle of champagne like a trophy. Her heels clicked unevenly across the marble front path, and she radiated tipsy excitement.
"Oh my God, Aaron, she's gorgeous!" she squealed.
I barely had time to register her before she wrapped her arms around me in a bear hug that smelled like vanilla perfume and expensive champagne.
"Uh, sorry... do we know each other?"
She pulled back, her eyes wide with mock horror. Then she burst into laughter, clamping a hand over her mouth. "I'm so sorry! I'm Aaron's sister, Daisy."
"Sister?" I turned toward Aaron, who looked like he wanted to sink into the ground.
Daisy raised an eyebrow at him. "You didn't tell her about us?"
Aaron mumbled something that sounded like a groan.
"Well, come on inside, honey!" Daisy beamed, turning on her heel. "We're all waiting for Thanksgiving dinner! Mom's already on her third glass of wine, and Dad's bragging about Aaron like he just won a Nobel Prize."
I turned back to Aaron, narrowing my eyes. "So, let me get this straight. You flew me across the world to meet your entire family... without warning me?"
He winced. "I really should've told you. I know. But I panicked. I didn't think you'd say yes if I said it was for Thanksgiving. And I just... wanted them to meet you."
I exhaled slowly, arms crossed. "I'm overdressed. I'm not emotionally prepared. And I haven't had real food today. I swear if someone asks me when we're getting married, I'm throwing myself into the koi pond."
Aaron gave a quiet laugh, clearly relieved I wasn't bolting. He laced his fingers through mine and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. "Let's just go inside and survive it together."
And somehow, despite everything—jet lag, surprise relatives, and the looming fear of awkward questions—I found myself nodding.
"Fine," I muttered, brushing invisible lint off my skirt. "But if Daisy tries to hug me again, I'm hiding in the bathroom until dessert."
He grinned. "Deal."
And together, hand in hand, we walked toward the glittering chaos that awaited us inside.