In His Arms

Chapter 24

The silence in the car is heavy as my mind runs through probably thousands of reasons why we would be going to the airport after dinner. From the idea that the Whites who we will be dining with tonight are heading out of state and we're sending them off to Alexander picking up a colleague who is flying in and to be honest, that idea is very a very un-Alexander like thing but it could be a possibility.

"I can see your mind working, Janette," He murmurs, reaching over the seats to take my tightly clenched hands apart. "We are going to the airport. I had Mrs Denise pack a bag for four nights for the two of us."

Snatching my hand out of his, I turn my body to the side in the seat in a way that allows me to face him, "What about Danny?"

"He'll be staying with Mr Ford and Mrs Denise," He answers rather casually, his hand reaching for mine again. "I have some business to attend to but when work is done I intend to spend some time with you."

"Why? In fact, why do I have to go with you?" I ask, slightly hysterical at the thought of going on a plane. "I mean it's not that I don't want to go anywhere with you but I don't want to fly."

"As my future wife," He begins, looking at me as a matter of fact as he explains. "You are kind of expected to be on my arm at dinners also how else will you get to Asia if you don't fly?"

ASIA! WHY ASIA?

"Alexander...I..."

"Sir, we have arrived," Mr Ford cuts me off unintentionally as he pulls up at the lobby of a hotel called Hyatt At Olive 8.

Another expensive hotel. Why am I not surprised?

A valet opens the car door for me, his hand extended to help me out of the vehicle, smiling at his offer, I make no move to take his hand as I slide out of my seat. Giving him an appreciative smile which I feel most wealthy people don't do, the man returns my smile with one of his own.

Before I know it, I feel Alexander's hand slip around my waist, his fingers pressing into the fats of my sides as he guides me into the hotel. His eyes are cold and indifferent as people stop to stare at us as we walk by them, much to my discomfort.

"Alexander, everyone is staring at us," I whisper as he leads me into the hotel's restaurant called Urbane.

"No, they're staring at you," he replies softly somehow still keeping his face blank and emotionless. "You are beautiful."

Rolling my eyes at his cliche reply, I turn my attention to the waiter who asks us if we have a reservation to which Alexander answers in his most clipped tone that we are meeting the Whites and immediately the young waiter jumps to lead us into the private dining area.

Entering the room, there are four people seated on a roundtable that is covered by a linen white tablecloth with a single red rose in a vase in the middle of the table. Immediately as the door opens the people stand to greet Alexander.

Not knowing what to do Alexander exchanges low greetings with a man who has greying blond hair and a goatee while a young woman who seems to be just a little bit older than me waits by his side smiling as the older man exchanges pleasantries and by her side also waiting by the old man's side is an older version of her who I assume is his wife.

"Alastora?" A surprised masculine voice calls unsurely to me, wrecking my train of thought for calling the name that I have heard more times in the last three days than in ten years. "Beanie?"

Again with that name, it seems to be haunting me these days, I grumble internally before pausing to realise the nickname. I haven't heard that dumb nickname since...