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“Yes,” he answers immediately. He watches me closely, his eyes narrowed as he seems to bait me to argue more with him.
I can’t help but give him a cold smile. How nice it must be to always get what you want. There are two kinds of people in this world: the ones who are pleased by people and the people pleasers. I’ve been raised to be the latter, while he was raised to be the former.
My head rocks back and forth. I sit up straighter, pushing my shoulders back so he knows that he won’t always get his way with me. “Well, better get used to that not always happening. I need to go to my apartment.”
“Why don’t we just go to my house first and you can determine if the shopping my assistant did for you is satisfactory or not?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, his eyes shutting for a moment like he’s fighting his own headache.
“I know it won’t be.”
“Why?”
I purse my lips. I don’t want to tell him that there’s one item lying on my bed that I never sleep without. I’m too embarrassed to admit it. But even though my cheeks heat with the idea of confessing to him that I sleep with a stuffed turtle every night, I feel even more anxious at the thought of not sleeping with the stuffed animal I’ve had since I was a child—Norbert. “Because I have things I need.”
He plays with his collar, pulling the fabric away from his neck. “Whatthings?”
“Just things. Why is it so important that we get to your house now? Just have the driver stop by my apartment, and I’ll be quick.”
“Because early tomorrow morning, we have an interview with Ruby Robinson, and she’s going to ask us alotof personal questions. Therefore, tonight, we’re going to spend the night getting to know one another. It’s our wedding night, after all.”
The deep, husky way he says the last sentence makes my body heat. “I’ll agree to that if you just let me stop by my apartment for two minutes.”
“Maybe if you tell me what you need from there so badly, I will.”
I let out an annoyed sigh. This man is really going to get on my nerves. He has an iron will, and for some reason, I want to defy him in any way I can.
“I need to get Norbert,” I mumble, feeling incredibly embarrassed to even admit it at all.
“Excuse me?”
“I need Norbert,” I repeat. My words are hurried and anxious, said against my hand as I try to cover the redness I feel pooling in my cheeks.
“Who thefuckis Norbert?” If he was anyone else, I might think that’s jealousy in his tone. But this is Archer Moore we’re talking about. I know enough about him to know he’s probably never been jealous in his life.
“My stuffed animal. I can’t sleep without him.”
He stares at me with a blank expression. He gives no hint at what’s going through his mind. His face is stone-cold. “Norbert is a stuffed animal?”
I nod. “A turtle.” The specifics probably don’t matter, and I feel embarrassed I’m even having to tell him about Norbert to begin with, but he left me no choice. I don’t understand how he has the nerve to tell me to live in his house without even giving me the opportunity to pack up my belongings.
He works his jaw. Even from across the car, I can see the muscle of it clench and unclench as he thinks something through. “You’re telling me we need to go by your apartment to get a stuffed…turtle?”
I angrily narrow my eyes on him. “Are you making fun of me?”
His lips twitch with humor, and his shoulders begin to shake. Suddenly, a loud laugh erupts from his chest.
“Archer!” I yell, covering my face in my hands and only peeking at him between my fingers. “Stop laughing at me.”
He shakes his head, swiping his hand across his face to try and cover his laugh. “I’m not laughing at you. I thought Norbert was a person—or a dog. I just wasn’t expecting it to be a stuffed turtle.”
I cross my arms across my chest, angling my body so I can get a better look at him. He really doesn’t seem to be trying to be malicious with his laughter. Maybe I just really took him by surprise with Norbert.
“Are you done now?” I ask once he’s finally seemed to gather himself. His face is a little flushed from laughter, and it’s a little jarring to see him so carefree. He seems younger and far less intimidating.
“Yes,” he answers, letting out a long breath.
“Good. Now, are you going to tell the driver to go to my place, or should I?”
One of his dark eyebrows rises. “You’re just going to show up at your apartment in your wedding dress?”
