His green orbs flittered from me to the rearview mirror and back as the fingers of his left hand tapped repeatedly upon the door’s armrest.
“Van, talk to me. What’s wrong? You seem…” I was unsure how to finish that sentence.
Offwas a possible word.
His chest beneath his wool coat widened as he inhaled. The strumming of the armrest ended as he reached for my left hand, his attention momentarily on the engagement ring. By the time his gaze met mine, his expression had softened. “Marry me.”
“I’ve already said yes.”
“No, Julia, marry me today. Here in Chicago.”
“What about our plans?”
“Our plans are for you to be mine forever. A change in venue doesn’t alter the outcome.”
“What about Mrs. Mayhand?”
The curl in his lips disappeared. “Why would you be concerned about her?” Before I could respond, he went on, “Paula will understand. This isn’t about keeping my employees happy.”
His employees. He called her by her first name.
A cold chill settled over me as I questioned, “Paula?”
“Yes, Mrs. Mayhand’s name is Paula.”
It was.
My skin prickled as I retrieved my hand from his grasp. Before I could ask another question or even address the uneasiness circulating through my bloodstream, I caught sight of the world beyond the windows. “We aren’t headed to the airport.”
“I told you, we have a change of plans.”
“Van, what’s the matter? Does this have to do with Wade?”
Instead of answering, Van changed the subject. “Tell me about your purse.”
“I took it out of my satchel and left it in the suite.” I lifted the handbag from my lap. “I have it now.”
“Do you have your phone?”
“Yes.”
“Turn it off. This day is about us.”
I sat taller, still holding my purse. “What was your call about?” As I questioned, Van laid his hand over my purse.
“My rules. You’re about to be my wife.”
My stomach twisted. “Your rules?” Van had never previously used that phrase away from intimacy. His gaze seemed to harden with each passing second. “Is everything okay?”
In place of answering, Van turned his gloved large hand palm up. “Don’t make me ask again.”
Sitting taller, my skin felt tight and prickly as if Van and I were on the verge of a quarrel I didn’t understand. It didn’t help that we weren’t alone. My gaze fluttered to the rearview mirror. I directed my question to the driver. “Do you work with Michael?”
From what I could see, this driver appeared nothing like Michael or the large man who had accompanied me to the hotel room for my purse. Despite wearing a similar suit, his eyes were covered by dark glasses, and he had a thick beard.
“Do you work with Michael?” I asked again.
It was Van who answered. “Toby came from the same company. Michael had an emergency.”