Page 168 of A Vicious Love

I looked at him.

He corrected smoothly, “The coat is proportioned for Miss Bellemere.”

“Fine.”

“Should I send security ahead?”

“No.”

“Sir.”

“I am not arriving with an army to hand my fiancée a coat.”

Reeves said nothing.

I narrowed my eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Say it.”

“It may already appear somewhat dramatic that you are personally attending a minor evacuation with a luxury coat in hand.”

“It is concern.”

“Certainly.”

“Deep concern.”

“Of course.”

“For a safety incident.”

“Yes.”

“That I noticed through ordinary channels.”

Reeves’ face did not move. Credit to him. He was an artist of not dying. I took the coat and headed for the car.

The drive took seven minutes because Harlan traffic understood me better when my hand stayed on the horn.

By the time I reached the Arts Quarter, the street had become a neat little chaos of dancers, office workers, marshals, building staff, and useless men in reflective vests pretending they had authority because someone had given them a clipboard.

Security had already cleared a parking space without being asked.

I got out with the coat folded over one arm. Several heads turned. Let them see a concerned fiancé arrives at scene after safety issue involving future wife.

Very respectable.

Very normal.

Not at all the behavior of a man who had caused the safety issue to create an opening for emotional communication, then immediately decided emotional communication was too slow and bought a coat instead.

Sienna saw me after everyone else did. Her eyes found mine across the pavement. Then a gust of wind caused her to shiver again.

My anger found a cleaner target. The weather. Men with clipboards. Excellent. Plenty to work with.

I crossed the pavement toward her.