No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 721

Mansfield Ellington lingered for a moment, reluctant to look away as he watched her leave.

A staff member nearby leaned in and reminded him quietly, “Mr. Goodwin, we can board now.”

Ian Goodwin waited until Mansfield finally turned and walked away before he tore his gaze from the departure gate. His face gave nothing away as he nodded and headed toward the plane.

Eleanor Sutton slid into her seat, glancing at the empty spot beside her. Was her seatmate running late—or maybe, just maybe, she’d get lucky and have the row to herself?

As she pondered the possibility, the cheerful voice of a flight attendant echoed through the cabin, greeting new passengers.

Eleanor looked up, her eyes widening in surprise.

What was he doing on this flight?

Ian strode down the aisle with a measured confidence, drawing a few appreciative glances from the flight attendants. Without even glancing at his ticket, he headed straight for the seat beside Eleanor and settled in, loosening the top button of his suit jacket and stretching his long legs out in front of him.

He glanced at her, the corners of his mouth barely twitching. “Small world, isn’t it?”

Eleanor immediately turned toward the window, wishing she could melt into the glass. Was it too late to switch seats? But she’d seen when she boarded—the plane was packed, every seat taken.

Ian fastened his seatbelt and looked over at her again. She edged even closer to the window, just as the plane began to taxi. Outside, the sky had already darkened, thick clouds gathering. Rain lashed against the glass, the weather growing worse by the minute.

As the plane accelerated, Eleanor felt the surge press her back into the seat. Her grip tightened on the armrest, knuckles white.

Ian watched her, noticing how she squeezed her eyes shut, every muscle tense. He leaned closer, his voice low and soothing. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

She cracked one eye open and shot him a look, but said nothing.

Soon, the plane broke through the rain and climbed into calmer skies, the turbulence fading as they leveled out.

“Would you like something to drink?” Ian’s baritone cut through the quiet.

“No, thank you,” he replied, his tone even.

After the attendant left, silence settled over their row. Eleanor pulled the blanket up to her chest, subtly edging away from the man beside her.

Outside, the clouds swirled past the window. Ian tapped his fingers absently on his knee, lashes lowered, lost in thought.

Suddenly, the plane dipped and swayed. The attendant’s voice came over the intercom, reassuring passengers that it was just a patch of turbulence.

But after several minutes of uneasy rocking, a violent jolt sent the cabin into chaos—cries and gasps erupting all around. Eleanor’s face drained of color as she clung desperately to the armrest.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated with your seatbelts fastened. We are experiencing unstable air currents,” the captain’s voice rang out.

Another wave of turbulence hit, harder this time, and Eleanor felt herself lurch sideways, unable to hold herself upright.

In the next instant, their shared armrest flipped up, and a strong pair of arms caught her, pulling her securely into an embrace.