Violet Carter could argue for Britain, probably had a gold medal in correcting people, and yet she speedwalked across the car park, her head down, putting the wheels on Hazel’s brand-new pram through their paces.
I quickened my pace to keep up, resisting the urge to look around and confirm exactly what had her acting like we were about to be tackled by MI5.
“Princess,” I muttered, voice low. “Try acting like we haven’t just robbed the place, yeah?”
“If I stop moving, I might actually scream,” she said through gritted teeth.
Right. So, totally calm then.
The SUV was just ahead. Jace stood beside it, arms crossed, watching us with the distinct expression of a man deeply regretting his life choices.
I caught up, shifting the weight of the bags. “You wanna tell me what the hell we’re running from, or do I have to guess?”
Violet didn’t answer. Didn’t even blink. Just kept pushing Hazel’s new pram with single-minded determination.
That’s when I spotted him.
A man, mid-forties, standing near the trolley bay, phone in hand, staring straight at us.
My stomach tightened.
Could’ve been a fan. I glanced away before he clocked that I’d seen him. No reaction. No sudden movements. The second you acted guilty, you looked guilty.
“Is he taking photos?” Violet asked, her voice a low hiss.
“Not yet.”
Her grip tightened on the pram.
“Brilliant,” she muttered. “Absolutely bloody brilliant. My father is going to chew me up because I listened to a stupid, arrogant?—”
“Hey.”
She side-eyed me, her expression placid while her eyes promised death. “—Pain in the ass driver.”
I clenched my jaw, ignoring the jab even though it landed square. She was acting like I’d masterminded this wholedisaster, like I’d somehow forced her into a retail park at gunpoint and made her cart me around the baby aisle. Like this was all me.
Which... to be fair... I had insisted on coming.
Shit.
I, in my infinite wisdom, had strong-armed my way into shopping when I knew better. Because of course Violet had been right.
And now some random bloke might have just got the shot that sent my career into a tailspin.
Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.
I huffed a breath, adjusting the bags as we reached the car.
Just get in. Get out. Easy.
The moment we reached the SUV, Violet lifted Hazel from the pram. A perfect performance of a woman who wasn’t currently losing her mind about a potential PR disaster unfolding behind her.
She kept her back to the bloke with the phone, cradling Hazel against her chest, one hand tucked protectively over her tiny head. She climbed into the back seat and got to work settling Hazel in her car seat.
That left me with the pram.
Which should’ve been simple.
