"You have your phone with you," Alexander said to Catherine, his gaze flicking to the pearl lanyard he'd bought her. "Good."
Before Catherine could even register the shift in his tone, Alexander grabbed her by the collar and marched her straight across the living room.
"Alexander—!" she protested, flailing, utterly scandalized.
This was deeply new. Her brothers, especially Alexander, never manhandled her. Ever. She was the undisputed princess of the Preston household. Even raised voices around her were considered treason.
So what in the world was happening?
"Don't kill him!" she blurted.
Alexander paused mid-step.
Slowly, he turned to look at her, surprise flashing across his face—just a flicker, but she caught it. The frown on his brow deepened.
"I don't want to get stuck with his decomposing body," Catherine added quickly. "The smell alone would ruin the apartment."
Alexander stared at her for a second longer.
Then his expression eased. Just a little.
