Chapter 33

Amaya shook her head.

Why a man like him with charm to spare would choose her for his insane idea had been bothering her since he'd first laid out his outrageous proposal.

"Surely the great Chase Johnson would have a slew of babes waiting to tie you down?"

His eyes sparkled as she hated her choice of words and raced on. "I mean, why me specifically? What do I have to offer?"

Chase smiled and asked, "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Yes."

"For the fact that we have history, and I know that you aren't after my money; otherwise, from what happened six years ago, you can trick me into—"

"Why on earth would you bring up such an incident again? We already made a deal to never talk about it, remember?"

"I'm just stating a fact—I'm just answering your question. The obvious one." Chase bit her lips and looked at her.

Amaya's breath hitched at the clear intent in his loaded stare, and she took a step back. "The obvious one is that I don't want to—"

"Are we going to argue again about this because if you can be persuaded, then you can go, report to Justin, bring the paper with you unsigned, and surely Justin will fire—"

"This is blackmail, you know."

"Of course it is," he smirked.

To her relief, he shrugged, the heat fading from his eyes. "You’re a motivated employee, Miss Patterson. You wouldn’t have flown halfway around Europe to make your mission the best if you weren’t. And I need that. Someone with a clear vision in mind, a business goal."

He pinned her with a firm glare. "Someone who won’t cloud the issue with emotion, which is exactly what would happen if I chose a wife. Someone who—"

"Someone who wouldn't mind if you'd get yourself a dozen mistresses along the way?"

"Wow! You already sound so wifey material. So jealous and—"

Amaya sighed. "Come on, do I look like I was born yesterday?"

"Well, we’ll have a contract; you can lay your terms, and I'll lay mine." His hand wavered between them. "This marriage between us is a straightforward business proposal, a win-win for us both. What do you think?"

She thought Chase was mad, but most of all, she thought she was a fool for wishing his preposterous proposal held even the slightest hint of emotion; she still meant something to him other than as a means to gaining respectability. He was the father of her son, and Tommy needed a father figure, so maybe this wasn't—God, what the hell was she thinking? Why was she even considering his proposal?

She nodded, summoning what was left of her pride. "I'll get right back to you."

"You do that!"

Chase's self-assured grin irritated her.

He understood she was buying him time to think about his marriage pie chart.

Amaya marched across the room, head held high, his gentle, teasing laughter following her out the door, her mind racing.

An hour later, still undecided, Amaya knocked on his office door again.

"Come in..." came his voice.

"I'm sorry to bother you again, but your step-sister is insisting that she speak with you. She’s tried your mobile; she’s been calling all morning," Amaya said with a blank stare.

"Why?"

"She is now insisting you call her back."

"I’m still in a meeting."

Chase did everything the other way around from anyone else she had met: he didn’t drop a thing for family! He had several mobile phone numbers, yet his family all went directly to the message bank—no exception, no deviation. Amaya knew he checked them—had seen him listen, scowl, and hit ‘delete’, yet unless he was in the right frame of mind, Chase refused to pick up.

Which left Amaya to deal with the fallout.

"Tell her I'm busy."

Amaya rolled her eyes. "I’m sorry, Donna,’ she said for the umpteenth time. "Chase really can’t be disturbed—is there anything that I can help you with? "

A few seconds later, dealing with Donna’s histrionics was actually easier than dealing with Chase right now—as more calls approached, his mood blackened. But there was this tension to him that was palpable—this grey, gathering cloud that seemed to be following him wherever he went as she ended the call.

"Chase, what is going on?" Amaya asked for the fiftieth time. "Why can’t you just go for the weekend and visit your sister? You do that for your clients all the time."

"I don't want to get involved with her wedding; trust me, my father will be there, and you don't want to see us together in one building."

Suddenly, Amaya realised Chase wasn’t putting her off with vague answers. "I’ve worked for years now and have had little to do with his family,"

"Your father’s family?"

"Yes, but since Donna’s wedding was announced, they’re on the phone every five minutes, and it’s doing nothing to improve my mood."

"Why?"

"Because the old man wanted to piss the hell out of me, telling me to my face that Donna was responsible enough to think of having a family."

"So this is why you wanted to get married?"

"That, too, is one of the reasons. I want to beat the hell out of my old man." Chase’s voice was irritated, which made Amaya roll her eyes as she picked up the phone from Justin.

Chase raised his brow and winked at her before saying, "Good luck."

It was rather like knowing there was a wild bear in the building with the door unlocked.

Chase wandered out sometimes, snarling and sniping, giving his orders on the phone, and then retreating. The phones were ringing. Amaya called the chef and had some sandwiches sent up for their snacks. Chase had snapped, when she’d asked him, that he didn’t want anything.

"So how's Justin?" He peered at her snacks and selected the smoked salmon and cream cheese without a word, but Amaya was used to him now; she opened her drawer and pulled out her own smoked salmon and cream cheese sandwiches, smiling at her own foresight as she picked up the phone.

"He is just asking about you."

"So?"

"I'm still thinking about it, okay?" She wasn’t smiling now—the sandwich was like sawdust in her mouth as she faced a new challenge, wondering if she should ring Justin back and check, completely unsure what to do.

"Chase…" she swallowed the mouthful of water she had quickly taken, "it’s your sister again on the phone."

"I’ll call her later," came the curt reply.

Which she relayed, to no avail.

"Chase…" She felt as if she were pressing the demolition button as she pressed the intercom again.

"What?"

"She’s crying. I don’t know if something’s happened."

When he swore in French, Amaya held her breath, hardly letting it out, when she saw the red light on and realised he had taken the call, wondering if she had done the right thing. The thick door to his office meant she could hear nothing, and Amaya paced up and down, staring at the red light, knowing they were talking, wondering if she should go in and apologise afterwards, berating herself for not checking with Gabby what she should do in those circumstances.

And then, after an interminable time, the red light went off.

She waited a moment for his angry summons, but, worse than that, there was only silence and a closed door.

She knocked, as he insisted she do.

What the heck happened?

And knocked again, ignoring that he didn’t answer—deciding to practise some of the assertions this job demands. Taking a deep breath, Amaya walked in. Afterwards, she fervently wished she hadn’t, but by then it was already too late.