Chapter 45

Landing at Chase's father’s mansion, Amaya had enjoyed the helicopter ride that had taken them on the final leg of their journey to his small coastal village—and everywhere Amaya looked, the view was stunning. Houses perched on top of houses were all staring out to the twinkling ocean, and the mansion was the jewel in the crown—the massive home had been lavishly extended, and every room was angled to take in the spectacular sea view.

Donna’s welcome was warm and effusive, pulling Amaya into an embrace and kissing her on both cheeks, then guiding her through to a large terrace that ran the length of the house while chatting non-stop in her rich accent, alternating between English and Greek.

"Chase!" The squeals of delight from Donna had Amaya smiling, and he was far more pleased to see his sister than Amaya’s own father ever was—hugging her warmly, teasing her about the face pack she was wearing, and introducing her to Amaya, whom Donna eyed with the same suspicious navy eyes as her brother, but she smiled and chatted in very good English before drifting back to her bedroom to get ready for her big day.

"Father?" Chase asked.

"He sleeps... Oh!" She gave a warm smile as their father entered. Tall and thin, his once raven hair peppered with silver, he would have cut an imposing figure in his time.

"Chase!" He embraced his son and kissed him on the cheek. Chase briefly hugged him back, but Amaya could feel the sudden tension in the room. "The black sheep has returned, I see."

"This is Amaya." Chase’s voice was just a touch short as he introduced her to his father. Despite Raul’s fragility, he took her firmly by the hands, kissing her on the cheeks and welcoming her to the family. He made a kissing gesture with his fingers when he saw the impressive rings and earrings, which made Donna laugh.

"Come, dad." She plumped the cushions on what must be his seat and fussed over him as he lowered his tall frame. Amaya stood, suddenly awkward, as Chase just watched, his face an impassive mask Amaya couldn’t interpret.

Chase was upset. As Amaya did the right thing and helped his step-sister prepare coffee in the kitchen, there was finally an explanation for his strange lack of reaction. "It is hard for him to see his father so ill. It has been almost a year since Chase was here, so it would be difficult for him to see the changes."

Lie! Amaya knew.

"Of course," Amaya said, setting up the tiny coffee cups on saucers, and it should have appeased her, except it didn’t. Chase had his own plane—his own travel team, for heaven’s sake—but there was surely a lot more behind this family that kept Chase away so coolly.

It was a busy mansion. The drinks and pastries that had been set up were not just for Chase and Amaya’s benefit but for an endless parade of guests, all wanting to meet Chase’s fiance and to wish Donna well for her big day. And Chase saw the strain showing in Amaya’s smiling face as the shadows lengthened, and he was proud of her, proud at how easy she had made it for him to be here, and he wanted to make it easier for her too.

"I thought I might take Amaya out for dinner. I know you are busy."

There were protests from Donna, of course, but not too many. Raul was tired and wanted to get back to his bed, and Donna was calling for help from the bedroom. Just a typical family two days before a wedding, and, as pleasant as the afternoon had been, it was rather nice to get out.

They walked through his village, the scent of the sea filling the late summer sky, and he took her to a local restaurant. No matter how many Greek restaurants she had been to before, nothing could compare to the simple fare of fresh pasta swished in basil pesto and lavishly smothered in Parmesan. The wine was rich, deep, and fruity, and they sat outside drinking it, bathed in citronella-fragranced candlelight. Though they had eaten out together on many occasions, both in Rome and abroad, this was nothing like a business dinner, because here no business was discussed.

Her eyes were huge in the candlelight, her laughter infectious, and for the first time at home, Chase relaxed, until the conversation turned personal.

"So you brought the Russian here..." She took a sip of her wine rather than look at him.

"No, um, it was Daphne."

"Oh!"

"It was a bad idea," Chase finally admitted. "Daphne insisted it would change nothing."

"But it did?’

"My family assumed we were serious—and then Daphne started believing it too."

"Is it so impossible?" Amaya blinked. "You talk as if you’ve no intention of ever settling down. I mean, really settling down."

"I don’t," Chase said. "I would grow bored and restless. I would rather have my pick." He gave her a smile. "Men get better looking as they get older, so I don’t think I’ll be short of company."

And it was honest, so why did it hurt her?

The thought of him in years to come, that exquisite hair dashed with silver, his distinguished features slightly more ravaged—this beautiful man walking the planet alone—yes, she couldn’t deny that it hurt.

"I'm surprised you haven’t built a hotel here if you don’t like staying with your family." Amaya refused to get morose.

"It is often suggested by developers, but it would ruin it. There are natural springs close by, so it would certainly be a tourist paradise, but..." Chase shook his head. "No." He had no desire to be here any more than he had to and no desire to discuss his family further, so he concentrated on their meal instead. "There are two desserts," Chase said, translating the menu for her. ‘Tiramisu or egg tart with cream..."

"Seriously?" He liked that she laughed, liked that she didn’t decline dessert and instead ordered it with cream, and liked eating with a woman who actually enjoyed it!

"Good choice; tiramisu is the best, they make it once a week, and each night they soak in a little more liquor, so by Friday it has reached perfection," he told her.

"Then thank God it’s Monday," she smiled.

She had tasted many tiramisus—good and bad, tiramisu ice cream, tiramisu from the supermarket, even tiramisu from an expensive Greek restaurant Chase had taken her to with clients—but as the sweet, moist dessert met her mouth, Amaya realised she had never really tasted tiramisu.

"It’s amazing." She closed her eyes and relished it for a moment.

And so are you, Chase thought, watching her.

She could feel his eyes on her and dashed to the ladies to touch up her make-up, wrestled with underwear that was supposed to smooth out bumps, and realised that maybe the tiramisu was more potent than it looked as she struggled to replace the top on her lip gloss.

Or she’d had too much wine with dinner, Amaya thought, staring at her glittering eyes and rosy cheeks.

Or maybe it was just a reaction to the company!

Even if it wasn’t real, it was so good to be away, to forget, to be twenty-five years old today, and to go out for dinner with the sexiest man in the world.

He signed the bill, and they wandered back, taking the sandy route. Amaya slipped off her sandals, feeling a million miles from Rome, from everything, as her feet sank into the wet sand and her ankles were bathed by the warm sea.

"How can you bear to stay away?" she murmured.

"You eventually get tired of the view," Chase said, "no matter how beautiful."

"I meant your family."

"You’ve seen my schedule." Chase shrugged and then expanded a little. ‘I ring, I try to get it back when I can…" He knew it sounded lame, knew she thought him a selfish person, and that was completely fine with him.

They stopped walking, with Chase picking up a handful of stones and skimming them out to sea, looking out at the rolling waves and the high crescent of a new moon. He relented a touch about his family—he told himself it was because he didn’t want to kill the mood, but she was nice to talk to. "It’s not just the view you get tired of—but the place, the people, the unspoken rules..."

"Rules?"

"Family." There was a scathing note to his voice. "Everything is for appearances’ sake—that is why I am here, remember! What will people think if the brother, the only son, just drops in for the wedding? That is the type of question you hear all the time as you grow up. They are so worried about how they appear, what people will think. There is shame that their only son has not settled down. Every time I come home, it’s always the same question..."

"And that’s enough to keep you away?" She didn’t buy it. "A few questions?"

"You see a frail old man near death, Amaya. But you don't know the real story. Trust me. He is worse than your father." She felt the prickles on the back of her neck rise as he continued, ‘And the village sees the patriarch, close to the end of a good and rich life."

"What do you see, Chase?" she asked quietly.

"My sister’s fear." If it was only a hundredth of it, it was still more than he’d ever admitted to anyone, and there was this curl of trepidation in his stomach as for the first time he broke his father's code of silence.

"How, even when he can hardly walk, she still jumps when he enters a room, just like my mother, still laughs too loudly at his jokes; she still fears him, just like my mother."

"Was he violent towards her? I mean, to your mother?" Amaya asked.

"Very." His guard shot back up. "Yet he is weak and pathetic now—there is nothing more to fear."

"Is that why you stay away?"

Chase shrugged, a bit guilty now, perhaps embarrassed at admitting so much, and he tried to laugh it off. "Apparently I should have married some sweet girl and produced several children by now—no matter whether or not it makes me happy, or to make the board happy. or to show my father that I have my own family."

"But you haven’t," Amaya pointed out. "I mean, not yet."

"That's why you’re here. Remember? A contract bride?" His mouth curled into a smile at his own joke, and then, appalled, he remembered.

"I didn't mean it that way."

She shrugged him off, angry, annoyed, embarrassed, and very, very close to tears. She was sick of it! But of course she kept it to herself.

"The marriage is—" Chase attempted, "business."

Damn! He thought to himself.

"Of course it is. You already paid my father and took my son to the best specialist in the country." Huge blue eyes looked up at him. "But I’m just not sure that it should be me. They might disapprove once they know about me having a son."

Chase stared at the oh, so familiar beach and dragged in the familiar smells, and though he so desperately wanted her, he didn’t actually have to have her—there was sweet relief in just her company tonight and the knowing that she would be beside him tonight. "No, they won't—" He didn’t finish, so they walked on in silence, and it was Chase who finally broke it.

"Come on, let’s get home. I’ll text Donna and let her know," which to Amaya seemed a strange thing for a playboy to do, but she was too upset about how the night had turned out and really never gave it another thought, especially when they stepped into a house that was in darkness.

Of course it was all business; what did she expect?

Silly me, she thought to herself, though her heart was aching.

"They must have gone to bed," Chase said, and then the lights snapped on.

"Surprise!" She saw the usually deadpan Chase grinning at her stunned reaction as shouts of ‘Happy birthday’ rang out, and slowly the realisation set in that this was all for her.

He could never have known how much this might mean to her, how completely overwhelming this was, because there were gifts all prettily wrapped, a table set with glasses and liqueurs, and, centre stage, a cake. A huge sponge filled with chocolate cream and iced on top, and in shaky handwriting, the words Happy B-Day, Amaya.