A few beats later, we pass by another Tesco market.
Lips tensed, I snap, “Yes! That’s your only response?”
A warm ocean gaze slithers over my body. “Yes.”
“Victor, stop the car.”
He ignores me.
“Stop the car right now!” I shout.
“We're almost there, Little One,” Victor says as if he has a purpose.
“Almost where? Humor thedummy, since I’ve thought we were in Arlington this entire time.”
“We’re almost to one of my homes. I have many homes. Forgive me for the confusion,” Victor replies sardonically.
“If you don’t stop the car, I’ll throw up.” I fold my arms, doubling over. “I’m going to be sick.”
“As you wish,” he grits out, toggling the stick shift.
Dark waves of tension bellow off him.Why’s he angry?Iwas deceived.
“Luxury,” Victor turns to look at me, “we’ve had a miscommunication, that’s all.”
“You had me believe we were in Arlington. The people there, they—you told them not to correct me?”
His brow lifts.
“Do you know how stupid that makes me feel?”
His blue eyes instantly turn into an indigo dream. “Luxury.” Tenderness weaves into his tone as he reaches out for me.
My stomach coils, and I shy away from his touch. “Victor, we were in Somerhaven? The Duke of Somerhaven, who is he?”
“My father.”
The pressure surrounding us has Victor and I light-years apart. I want to reach over and touch him, but my body can’t move. Usually, when I feel discomfort, his caress consoles me. His hands and mouth are my balm. Not now.
At this moment, Victor is so far away from me. I slowly open my mouth to ask, “But how are you the Duke of Arlington? Victor, this isn’t a job interview. I rarely ask you about your life. You’ve brought me here—were so open when we walk around.”
He settles back in the seat. The cool wind whistles through his dark hair.
“Vic, we just had the biggest communication issue in our relationship. Please, how are you the Duke of Arlington?” I ask. A tugging pulls at my heart, and it lurches down into the pit of my abdomen.
“I’ve no communication issues. If there’s uncertainty on my part, I speak. However, my inquisitive Little—”
“Stop gaslighting me, Victor! I’m not feeling theLittlenicknames right now.”
“Little One, I will answer your questions at my liberty. If I choose not to, you will know. As far as obtaining this dukedom, it’s a gift from the Queen.”
“I demand an apology, Vic, or I’m hitchhiking to the nearest airport. I’ve got thumbs, and it appears that you have a wholesome little duchy.”
“Lux . . .”
With my eyes on his, my hand clutches the door handle.
“I,” he sighs, “apologize for the confusion.”