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When I’m close enough, I rest my hand on his shoulder. His muscles are tight and firm beneath my fingertips. His head snaps around, his blue eyes like shards of ice as they slide over me.
He rests his glass on the table in front of him, then wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me down on his lap.
“It took you long enough.” His voice is low and silky, with a hard edge to it, sending a shiver down my spine. “What took you so long?”
I was figuring out the best way to tell you I could be pregnant.
“Thinking,” I say simply, sliding off his lap to take the window seat beside him.
His attention feels like a glare. He’s still upset, clearly. “About what?”
“You.”
If he’s surprised, it doesn’t show. He picks the flute of champagne from the table—the condensation gathering on the delicate glass tells me it’s been here for a while—and holds it out to me.
I look at the drink, then at him, swallowing thickly around the lump in my throat. Fuck, if I’m pregnant I can’t drink. A nervous smile twists my lips.
“I don’t feel like drinking,” I lie, clearing my throat. “Can I have something else instead? Orange juice, preferably.”
Alexander quirks an eyebrow, and for a tense second, it’s like he’s going to force me to drink it. But he puts it back on the table and calls a stewardess over, relaying my drink order to her.
She flits away and he turns back to me.
“What were you thinking about me?”
There’s a frown on his lips, and he wears my marks, too. There are pink lines peeking out from the collar of his shirt and crisscrossing his forearms and wrists.
I press my lips together to hide my smile.
“You seem like you’re in a bad mood,” I begin, testing the waters. He doesn’t bristle, only stares at me blankly. He takes my hand, placing my palm flat against his. It’s soft, gentle even. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Absently, he twirls my engagement ring with his thumb. There’s a long pause between us as my question hangs in the air. It’s so long that the stewardess returns with my orange juice, and I take a few sips before he replies.
“I’m worried,” he says.
I lick the orange juice from my lips, leaning over so that my head rests on his shoulder. “Your father?”
“Everything,” he says. “There’s no going back. You’re going to meet my family. This trip is going to change us forever, Alize.”
For some reason, his words shake me to my core. Things have possibly already changed forever—he just doesn’t know it yet. “I know your father is fucked up, Alex. There’s nothing that can—”
His hand tightens around my own, stopping me in my tracks. “You’re stepping intomyworld.” His voice is as cold as ice. “You’re going to see things, learn things about me, about my family. It’ll be nothing like Saint Frederic. It’s more dangerous than you can ever imagine, and it’s not like my father is exactly excited about you.”
I don’t like his tone. “If it’s so dangerous, why are you bringing me?” I straighten, pulling away enough to gaze at his profile. His eyes are fixed on my engagement ring.
“My father wanted to meet you,” he says. “I’m sure he only intended to scare you off. But now he knows we’re engaged, it’s going to be different.”
“Different how?”
His gaze finally snaps back to mine. “I’m saying that you can’t make any mistakes around him. I will do my best to protect you, but you can’t let your guard down. He’s wily.”
I suck in a deep breath.
I didn’t expect sunshine and roses from this trip—everything Nya and Tara told me about Alexander’s family was enough to let me know this wouldn’t be a walk in the park. But this is the first time Alexhas made it seem this difficult. When we talked about it before, he was happy.
Now, he seems almost regretful.
“What are you going to tell him when he asks about your family?”
