I can feel myself about to get sucked into the swirl.
Henry must feel it, too, because his arm tightens around me in protection. “Take us straight to the underground,” he demands, his voice hard.
“Certainly, sir. Already planned on it.”
“Please and thank you,” I add after a beat.
Victor’s eyes catch mine in the rearview mirror, the corners of his crinkled with a smile.
Henry leans in to whisper in my ear, “You wouldn’t dare be implying that I don’t have manners, would you, Abigail?”
I used to quake when he used that even tone with me. Now I snuggle against his chest. “Never.” He has exceptional manners when he chooses to use them, but he’s also accustomed to people jumping at his every command.
“I didn’t think so.” He leans in farther until the light stubble along his jawline grazes my skin. “But I like those words on your lips. I think you’ll be using them later.”
His promise stirs a mental image and a memory that ignites my core.
We pull into the valet entrance, waiting for the cars ahead to move. Photographers have their cameras aimed at our windows, calling out Henry’s name. It’s all a pointless production, thanks to the impenetrable tint.
I fish my phone out of my purse and turn it on for the first time since we landed.
The moment it starts chirping, I wish I hadn’t.
“She’s asked Reverend Enderbey to marry us!” I cry, seeing red as I scroll through Mama’s messages. All thirty-two that she sent since I hung up with her before leaving Alaska this morning.
“Sullivan.” Henry nods his thanks as the security guard steps aside to allow us into the elevator. The lineman-sized giant was waiting to greet us when Victor parked the car. “Would he fly to Alaska to officiate?”
“I don’t know, but she’s already booked the church for our ceremony.” My thumb swipes at the screen as I speed-read. “And she’s called the rental company for our reception in the barn! And—oh my God—she’s asked three of my cousins to be my bridesmaids!” It keeps getting worse the farther down I go.
Henry’s chuckle reverberates.
“This is not funny!”
“Are you surprised? She knows she can’t stop you from marrying me, so she’s found a new way to try to gain control.”
“I knew she’d want to have a say on things, but I didn’t think she’d have our whole wedding planned before our plane landed. And all this? This was supposed to be Jed’s and my wedding. She’s just swapped out the grooms.” Which is especially surprising, given Mama was convinced Henry was the devil himself walking the earth until only recently.
“I am definitely not Fuckface,” Henry grumbles.
I hold up my phone to show Henry the picture of Mama’s wedding dress, pulled from storage and hanging in my bedroom in Greenbank. “Ready to be sized for me.”
He frowns. “Is that a bow?”
“One of several.”
He shakes his head. “Rethinking city hall yet?”
I groan.
Sullivan whistles before flashing a gap-toothed grin. “Gotta say, I thought my mother was demanding, but sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you, Ms. Mitchell.”
I falter at his use of my name. I’ve never met this man, though I know Henry replaced the guards who let Scott into the penthouse. But then I remind myself that everyone in Wolf Tower’s security staff knows who I am. They’re paid to. “She’s going to ruin our wedding.”
“No, she isn’t.” Henry wraps his hand around my nape, his thumb drawing small, calming circles against my skin. “It’s your wedding. Tell her thanks, but no thanks.”
“If only it were that easy.”
The elevator approaches the lobby level and Henry’s chest rises, the only sign that the media attention bothers him. “No reporters inside, right?”
“None, sir. But your niece has been waiting for you for hours.”
Henry’s face screws up. “My niece. I don’t have—”
The elevator doors open with a ding, and another massive security guard waits outside to escort us to our penthouse elevator.
Henry’s still wearing that look of confusion when Sullivan gestures toward a girl of maybe sixteen sitting on a bench. “Are you saying she’s not related to you, sir?”
Henry’s mouth opens, but he falters on his answer.
The girl looks up, sees Henry, and jumps out of her seat, smoothing her hands over lengthy ash brown hair as she glances around her. Perhaps searching for an escape? She looks like any regular teenager, with blue jeans and an oversized gray hoodie and scuffed black and white Chucks.