Chapter 53

Amaya just stared at him and raised her brow.

"Are you going to ask me in?" Chase eventually broke the silence. It took some effort. He had wanted to catch her by surprise and had been driven by sheer curiosity to see her somewhere—anywhere—that wasn’t to do with the office. Yes, they shared a house, but they seldom saw each other here. Not without them pretending to be a couple so in love in front of everyone here in the mansion.

But he hadn’t expected this.

This wasn’t the starchy woman who occupied her own inspiring range of suits in various shades of colour; this was a different woman altogether. It was the face of a sad and defeated woman.

This was the woman he had glimpsed before; she looked happy, but he knew, deep inside, that she was alone and sad as hell.

Oh yeah, it was all his fault. Like what happened in Greece, it was nothing but a mistake.

"What do you want?" She asked.

She was in a pair of shorts and a small top, and her hair was long and tied back in a ponytail that swung down her back.

He sighed as he looked at her. She was long and slender, her stomach flat, her breasts...

He broke out in a fine film of perspiration. It was the sort of reaction he never experienced before, only with her, with this woman, and his awareness of her, his physical awareness of her, was intense and immediate—and again, just like what happened before, a rush of blood invaded his body in a tidal surge.

She wasn’t wearing a bra.

"Can I come in?"

"Why??"

It was a breathless, angry question. She could barely deal with him at the office—was at war with herself and her puzzling reaction to him. How dared he now takes himself out of that environment, which didn’t even feel safe anymore, and superimpose himself here? On her?

Suddenly excruciatingly aware of just how much of her body was exposed, she hugged her arms around herself and remained rooted to the spot. She hadn’t shut the door in his face, but she wasn’t inviting him in either.

"We need to talk. I’ve been busy these past few days, but I can talk now."

"About what?"

"Our wedding!" Chase imparted roughly, raking fingers through his hair and staring away to one side while he tried to do the unimaginable and compose himself. "I had every intention of going through this business with you, but I haven’t had time. Like you said, my family deserves more than five minutes of my attention when I can grab a moment."

"Good. But I think everything is settled about the wedding; I got the dress and everything I needed. What else do you need?"

Okay, it was the coldest voice she could muster, but she hoped it sent the message that she didn't want to talk to him.

"About that—"

"Chase, everything is okay there. There was nothing to worry about, and I was busy too. Besides, you managed to grab lots of moments when you were in my office—piling work on me before everyone had even been given a decent burial…"

"Hell, why do you have to be so dramatic? And are you going to ask me in? Or am I going to have to stand outside and have this conversation with you? The maids might begin to wonder what’s going on."

Amaya spun around on her heels, agonisingly conscious of her small shorts. She realised in a flash how important her formal work attire was. All those bland, off-the-peg suits in drab colours had been her way of keeping the rest of the world at bay. Even at the farm with him, when she had dropped her mask and actually spoken her mind, that suit of hers had still been a reminder of their respective roles. Even after Greece.

But shorts and a cropped top? Since when could anyone call that armour?

Chase watched her extremely perky bottom as she stalked away from him. His erection was so ramrod hard that it was painful—and more than likely visible.

He wanted to ask her whether she made it a habit to open the door to anybody who might ring the bell dressed next to nothing, because this wasn’t her. He shoved both hands into his trouser pockets in an attempt to do some damage limitation with the serious bulge of his arousal.

"I’m going to change," she told him ungraciously as she stood aside and indicated that he could wait for her on the couch. "I’m sorry, Chase. I realise that you’re the boss, and you probably think that you can do whatever you please, but I really don’t think it’s on you to just call by unannounced."

Her arms were still folded as she swung to look at him. Her heart picked up speed as their eyes tangled and held. Her skin felt too tight for her body. His eyes on her made her nipples tingle and made her want to rub her legs together to ease the ache between them.

"Why? We are living in the same house, for God’s sake."

He was now sitting on the couch. Thank God. What the hell was going on here? He’d had his fill of stunning women, and none had had such an instantaneous effect on his libido. Was it because of the dichotomy between the consummate professional and the rangy, leggy, sexy woman she was under the uniform she chose to wear? Maybe it had been too long since he had had sex? Days? Without her?

He was a man with a high sexual drive, and using his hand to do the job was far from satisfactory, given the choice of a woman’s mouth doing the job for him.

He thought of Amaya’s mouth there, her pink tongue delicately flicking over his arousal, and he sucked in a sharp breath.

"Yes…" He cleared his throat. "Go and change if it would make you feel better to slip into your suit because I’m here and you find it impossible to be anything in my company aside from an employee."

"What’s that supposed to mean? You made it clear that this between us was nothing but business, so don’t fucking expect more," Amaya inquired tightly.

"I'm not expecting alright."

Lie, he thought to himself.

Chase sighed and sat back. "It doesn’t mean anything, Amaya. What happened in Greece was a mistake, and surely you know the drill."

It means you should leave now and return decently clothed. Sackcloth might do the trick.

"And you’re right. I had no business showing up here without calling you in advance."

"Whatever," she said, opening her closet. "Whatever boss," she retorted, bristling as she thought back to her colleagues at work and their reactions to Chase descending from Mount Olympus to grace them with his presence. "People have been talking…"

She reddened, but now that it was out, what choice did she have but to stand her ground and say what was on her mind? Besides, he was in her territory now. If she couldn’t speak freely in her own house, then where could she? He might be the ruler of all he surveyed in his towering glass office in his own fucking building, but he wasn’t out here.

This was her room. She quailed. Did he have to look so ruler-like even when he wasn’t in his domain? She wished he would just look a little more normal, a little less intimidating. Or sexy. Take your pick.

She suddenly felt her youth and her lack of experience.

"Who’s talking?" Chase tilted his head to one side and looked at her intently. "Talking about what? And who are these "people" who have been talking?"

Maybe I shouldn’t have brought this up…" she began, chickening out as she slipped a huge t-shirt on her neck.

"But you did, and now that you have, you might as well finish. And for God’s sake, don’t launch into any full-blown apologies when you’ve said what you want to say."

"Who says I'm going to apologise?"

He sighed in annoyance and said, "Fine, now tell me what's going on with all the talk?"

"Someone saw a picture of us from Donna’s wedding, and I heard them talking about... I mean, rumours about you and me. They think... I don’t know what they think... But I don’t want them to think about it. Whatever it is."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"About us in the family picture—"

"So? What about it? We are going to marry anyway, what's wrong with that?"

Her eyes widened. "We are not—"

"We will announce the engagement soon, there is nothing to worry about."

"But I don't want them—"Chase rolled his eyes. "So these people think something—you’re not sure what—and you don’t want them to think it...?"

"I’m a very private person. Always have been."

Except for a few days in Greece, when I spilled my heart to you, and you broke it into a million pieces, she thought to herself.

"I’m at a loss as to what I can do to resolve this issue…" Chase smirked and spread his arms wide in a typical gesture that was at once rueful and ridiculously phoney, because there was just a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that made her feel like an idiot. His brows knitted in a frown, which was also phoney. "I guess you must think that the rest of them think something too, although who knows for sure?"

Oh hell, she thought, was he really enjoying this?

"It’s all well and good for you to sit there sniggering, but I’m the one who has to live with other people’s stupid speculations!"

"Why are you so afraid? You will be my wife. We will marry soon."

"In papers…" she corrected.

"Yeah," he groaned, "Rumours? That’s office life for you. Maybe you should climb out of your ivory tower and experience it. And don’t worry about the rumours, by the way. Whatever they might think, or not think, they'll keep it to themselves. Unless if you started the rumours—"

Her eyes widened. "Are you seriously out of your mind, Chase?"

"Oh, well, I'm just guessing, because, really, I don't understand why the rumours bothered you so much; they were true anyway, and we are lovers…"

"Fuck you!"

"I'm not even done yet; stop overreacting. It's true we are lovers in papers; there is nothing wrong with that, we both benefited from it. You owe me, remember?"

Of course, how could she forget?

Amaya gritted her teeth together and remembered diplomacy. He was rich and immune to the opinions of other people. Not that there would be many people willing to shoot their mouths off at him. Chase was unbearably arrogant in his self-confidence. And he talked about her living in an ivory tower! How dare he!