Chapter 75
Chase hadn't had a holiday for months, so he kept telling himself that was why he was feeling so relaxed after a week sailing around the islands. He’d chosen a couple of private hideaways he was familiar with, where he and Amaya had swum in quiet coves with the fish darting below them or lain on pristine beaches. But if he were honest with himself, he knew it was because Amaya was proving to be the best thing that had happened to him in a long time.
Maybe ever. He woke each morning with a tick of excitement in his blood. Not just because the sex they had was getting better and better, but because the companionship they’d developed had settled into friendship, unlike anything he’d had before with anyone else. He looked forward to discussing things with her—current affairs or business things that came through on email. She had a good mind and sound common sense, and he enjoyed listening to her take on current issues. They cooked together, read together, walked, swam, and snorkelled together. And made love.
Chase couldn’t quite bring himself to call it sex any more. Weird, because sex was supposed to be sex. It always had been in the past. But with Amaya, it was something more. Something more cerebral, even—dared he say it? —emotional. He shied away from the thought and where it was leading. It wasn’t love, but physical bonding. It happened when the sex was particularly good. His body craved hers. Hungered for her closeness. Got restless when she wasn’t nearby. It was his hormones going crazy. Nothing else.
Speaking of hormones, he hadn’t returned to the subject of children. He still wasn’t entirely sure why he’d brought it up when he had. When proposing, he brought it up as a test to see what her plans were on the issue. But lately, he’d started to wonder if Amaya was projecting a cover-up opinion. He’d wanted to make sure he wasn’t doing the wrong thing by her by tying her to a childless marriage. But she remained adamant that having a family was not on her horizon. It hadn’t been on him either, but for some strange reason, he kept thinking about it. He had no living, close relatives.
It hadn’t used to bother him, but now it kept niggling at him. He was getting a taste of fatherhood with Tommy, and it wasn’t always pretty, but he loved the child like his own. Did he have what it took to be a good father? His father had never been a great dad. He was hard-working, yes, but he was never committed to him or to his sister, no matter what life threw his way. It was tougher than he wanted any kid of his to experience, but if Chase suggested he and Amaya have a child, it would change everything about their arrangement. Make it more permanent? The only trouble was... He didn’t do anything permanent. He didn't do string attachments and commitments.
No. He never wanted an heir.
A few days later, back to the office. Amaya’s shoes were red today. Oh, boy. He pondered. She was ready for war. He knew he had been ignoring her again after their honeymoon, cowardly, but he didn't want to risk falling for her. Never, he thought; he didn't do love, and since they arrived at the mansion after their honeymoon, he knew she had more questions than answers.
Looking at her with a phone in her eyes, she wiped her eyes quickly, but he wasn’t sure whether she was crying or about to. Amaya was talking on the phone, and any other bastard would’ve turned around, walked away, and vowed to stop making her life more difficult.
But Chase was programmed differently, carved from stone.
He rounded her tiny, blond figure, half-listening to her conversation.
“Okay. Just... Please don’t tell him.”
Was she talking to a man? Her voice sounded like she was talking to the opposite sex, very much male on the other end, and very much like a douchebag. The latter wasn’t based solely on his affiliation with Amaya but also on his name. Now he was fully invested in the conversation.
“I’m really not interested in hearing what you have to say,” she added.
Pause.
“Please don’t make it any more difficult than it already is. Promise me you won’t tell him. That’s all I ask.”
Pause.
“Yeah, well, I have a job to go to. Bye.”
Amaya stood up.
Chase pretended he didn’t see her, pushing the door open and waltzing to the open elevator. She was a few feet behind him, so when he turned around, their eyes met. She hurried to catch his elevator—of course he didn’t push the hold button—and sneaked in at the last second. There were two more people inside. Two assholes went to the second floor. HR.
“Hi,” she breathed, turning around to give him her back and ass. Not a bad deal.
Chase nodded solemnly.
Silence. Silence. Silence.
Amaya didn’t act shy or awkward. Something about this morning told Chase she had more pressing issues to deal with than sucking her husband’s dick, and he decided on a whim that he needed to know what was on her mind.
Naturally, talking to her was out of the question. After what they had been through on the yacht, it seemed like she became a different person he couldn't fathom. She sassed way too much and always nags him about his behaviour, like what happened to them didn't matter at all. Chase frowned. No. This couldn't happen. He was the boss; he was the man. He had this going. He couldn't be pathetic.
He sighed and made small talk to his wife for the sake of their audience. Strictly speaking, it wasn’t any of his business. But Amaya was shaping up to be such a train wreck—stealing his attention, then fucking him, then avoiding him, then sucking him off, then having public fights with people on the phone outside her work building—he wanted to make sure she was on the sanity spectrum.
When they got to their floor, they walked straight into his office. The first monthly meeting was in ten minutes. She walked over to her desk with that damn notebook clutched to her chest.
“Amaya, join us in the conference room,” he heard himself say.
The rest of the people halted for a while and gave a silent murmur.
Amaya perked, bit down a smile, then opened the notebook and scribbled something into it. Fast. Lord. She was so fucking thirsty for the job.
Chase let Amaya dispose of the iPad in his palm. “Stick with my schedule for this week,” he said, then turned his head to his wife. “And you’ll be taking notes.”
She nodded.
Zander was careful to treat her exactly as he would any other staff member in her position. He was already an insufferable prick, so he wasn’t particularly awful to her. But he was also fair, and after a week, she’d earned the right to sit, listen, and absorb.
She kept her eyes on her notebook. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” he grumbled. Good thing Amaya had started working on her cardio and was already on the other side of the floor. They were almost alone, early, eager fuckers that they were.
Chase sighed as he heard her say, “And by the way, I have things to settle that you could help me with.”
“Unless it involves me tying you to a bed, I’m not really interested in hearing about it,” Chase said, setting fire to the entire conversation they had over the week about him dancing on a red line.
Amaya rolled her eyes at him as she stared deeply into his blue gaze.
He sprinted through that fucker all the way to the finish line of sexual harassment. Not that he was harassing her; she was his wife for heaven’s sake, but this... Her ignoring him made him so uncomfortable that he wanted to make her angry, smile, or whatever suits her the best, as evidenced by the enthusiasm with which she sucked his dick, but if she wanted ammo on him, he’d stupidly given her that.
What the hell happened to them anyway? They were enjoying their week on the yacht, like real honeymooners, like a real couple, then suddenly he made a huge turn, and there they were, ignoring each other.
What is wrong with you, Chase? He asked himself.
“It actually involved me tying you to a bed.” She batted her lashes, and for an unknown reason, she didn’t look annoying doing so.
Chase thought that normally, I liked being the one doing the tying, but for Amaya, I could make an exception.
She stepped towards him, her tongue sweeping over her lower lip. “Then I’ll strap a ball gag to your mouth."
He curved a brow, raking his eyes slowly over her body and undressing her item by item. She was high if she thought he’d put anything in his mouth that wasn’t a part of her body. By the time she was in front of him, Amaya was stark naked in his head, her voice dripping honey and sex all over his fucking loafers.
“Then,” she whispered, her pillowy lips moving against his ear. “I’ll set the whole damn thing on fire, with you in it.”
Chase smiled. Amaya was a massive pain in the ass. Not only was she a natural blond, shit-hot, and the owner of the best pair of lips in the tristate area (both pairs, if we’re perfectly honest), but she was also sharp as a razor—the opposite of his usual pushover flavour of the night.