Chapter 58

To Amaya’s credit, she didn’t look away or take a step back.

If he wanted to play, then she could play as well. She thought to herself. Knowing full well that either way, she wanted this to happen, and God knows, she was hoping for something from him too.

"Oh hell, Chase. You’re wrong. Nothing has gone to plan since Greece. I wondered what your plan was, because frankly, you made my head dizzy with all the unexpected, unplanned things you often do. This is not like you."

The flicker of pain in her eyes hit him hard, and he dropped his hands. He gave her space, and she took it, putting enough distance between them for him to feel the loss.

He sighed. "Tell me, Amaya, you don’t want to consummate this marriage as much as I do."

There, he threw it out, knowing the firebrand she used to be would never back down from a challenge.

However, the forlorn bride in a fancy dress staring wistfully out of the window was a far cry from the feisty girl he’d known, and the thought that he’d made her this unhappy was a kick in the guts. And the wake-up call he needed.

"Are you seriously asking me that? After what you said in Greece? Do I look stupid to you?"

"Amaya—"

"What happened there was a mistake, and I don't want to repeat the same mistake ever."

"Forget it. I’m going out for a while. I’ll be back later."

Failure didn’t sit well with Chase; it never had, and, hating how he’d botched this, he wrenched open the door.

"Chase, wait!"

But he didn’t.

He walked out on his bride and slammed the door shut on his dreams of a memorable wedding night.

Amaya kicked off her sandals, ripped off the wedding dress, and tore the frangipani from her hair, crushing it in her palm in the process.

She stared at the furrowed flower, limp and lifeless, and sank onto the bed, letting the petals drift from her fingertips to the floor.

She was like that flower—all pristine and showy on the outside, a crumpled mess on the inside.

As if getting through the ceremony hadn’t been hard enough, pretending she didn’t want a real wedding night had almost driven her insane.

Chase wanted her.

She wanted Chase.

Where was the problem?

He was the problem. He wanted this marriage to be as ordinary as he could, but her feelings weren't for play; she wanted more for fuck’s sake.

A sharp pain shot through her chest as a timely reminder of exactly what the problem was: her heart. Her stupid, impressionable, just-break-me-now heart jumped up and said ‘pick me, pick me’ every time Chase Johnson looked her way.

It’d been the same years ago, and nothing had changed. She’d been wreaking havoc for just over a week, long enough to realise singing the ‘I’m only doing this for business’ tune wouldn’t cut it with Chase.

Not this time.

He’d let her walk away back then, and he’d let her do it now, so why was she falling for him regardless?

With a frustrated groan, she headed for the bathroom. A good, long soak might ease her tension.

Yeah, right, just as trying to date other guys had eradicated Chase from her memory banks. Not a chance in hell.

While the bath filled, she paced the bathroom, fiddling with the fancy toiletries, picking them up and putting them down, trying not to stare at her reflection as she did so.

The odd times she caught a glimpse of the disastrously monstrous mirrors, she didn’t like what she saw.

A woman in sexy lingerie with thoroughly kissed lips, shining eyes, and a glow no amount of blush could induce.

A woman who’d subconsciously bought the sheer ivory lace demi-cup bra and matching knickers edged in rosebuds in the hope the man she still fancied might get to see it.

A woman who was kidding herself.

That stung most of all—the fact she was a smart, astute smart woman, yet here she was playing silly games with herself.

She wanted Chase.

It all came back to that.

Her job might be the reason she was here, but right now, this very second, Chase was her motivation for staying in this suite when she could’ve quite as easily escaped.

She hated manipulation, hated lies, and hated herself for longing and hoping that eventually he might change his mind and think of this marriage as real. So why was she wasting time lying to herself now? She’d be gone in a few months, back to her orderly life. Why not make the most of the time they have?

Whether she slept with Chase or not, spending time with him would break her heart regardless. At least this way, she’d have some fun.

After closing off the gold taps, she carefully slipped out of the lingerie—she had high hopes for the stuff now—and dipped under the lavender-scented bubbles to her neck, resting her head against the giant Jacuzzi and sighing with pleasure.

Closing her eyes, she savoured the lavender scent infusing her senses, soothing, relaxing, and helping her mind wander. And wander it did, taking a stroll down memory lane, to the first time Chase had made love to her, to Mary’s wedding.

Inviting her for a heated night after a dare. Chase’s tongue, licking it off her...

He’d made her first time beyond special. He’d been caring, gentle, and amazing, treating her like a precious gift she’d given him.

She’d never forgotten it; she'd never forgotten him, and it was high time she stopped pretending she didn’t want to recreate the magic they’d once shared between the sheets.

Sinking under water to sluice away her memories, she thought she’d done a fair job by the time she resurfaced.

Until she opened her eyes and saw Chase leaning against the bathroom door, staring at her with barely disguised lust in his incredible dark eyes, looking like a man in definite need of a bath.