Luca remained seated.
So did I.
Fiona woke and rubbed her eyes.
“Are we in New York?”
“Yes, baby.”
“Is Cousin Natalie here?”
“Soon.”
The flight attendant quietly asked us to wait.
A few minutes later, a broad-shouldered man in a dark suit entered the aircraft and walked toward us.
“Mr. Sterling.”
“Marcus.”
His eyes moved to me.
“This is Blaire.”
Marcus nodded politely.
“Ms. Vance.”
“What exactly is happening out there?” I asked.
“Your husband has been trying to determine whether you’re on this flight. Airport personnel have not given him passenger information. His investigators appear to be waiting in the public arrivals area.”
“Can he stop me from leaving?”
“I’m security, not your lawyer,” Marcus said. “We have counsel on the phone who can answer that. From a security standpoint, we can escort you through a private exit if you want to avoid a confrontation.”
That distinction calmed me more than a promise would have.
