Chapter 89
Chase’s first instinct was to rush to Amaya, sweep her into his arms, and forget the agony of the past month.
That was before he saw the stubborn set of her mouth and the angry ocean blue glint as she fixed him with a haughty stare.
He smirked, “Hi, wife!”
He’d flown around the world to be with the woman he loved, and she was angry?
Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the window sill.
“What? No welcome kiss for your husband?”
Amaya picked up her bags and placed them on a nearby table, too cool and controlled for his liking. He wanted her off guard, nervous, so he could bully the truth out of her as to why she bolted and why she’d given back his ring. Instead, she smoothed a too-tight hound’s-tooth skirt, tugged on the hem of a matching jacket, and perched on the table’s edge.
“What are you doing here, Chase?”
“Business.”
“Of course.”
Her slight nod annoyed him as much as her clipped response.
“Unfinished business.”
Unable to control himself, he crossed the room in four strides, hauled her into his arms, and kissed her.
She struggled for all of two seconds before melting into him, a perfect fit as always, and he growled, a deep, possessive sound ripped from deep within.
“Don’t.”
On the point of deepening the kiss, she shoved him away, and if he hadn’t seen the real fear in her eyes, he would’ve pushed the issue.
He stepped back and gave her space while the old, familiar need to have her clawed at him was demanding and uncontrollable as always.
“Don’t what? Give you this?”
He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out her wedding band, and, grabbing her hand, held her fingers open while he dropped it into her palm.
“You left it behind, though for the life of me I can’t figure out why.”
Her mouth opened, closed, in a fair imitation of a goldfish, and he curled her fingers over the ring before releasing her, not trusting himself to touch her one moment longer without hauling her back into his arms.
“Last thing I knew, you wanted this marriage to work. Sure, you wanted to head back here, and I thought we’d figure out logistics. And I miss my son. I miss you!"Chase ran a hand through his hair, rattled by her distant expression, as if she’d closed off emotionally. “Instead, you bolt before we can say a proper goodbye, leaving your ring behind. Which begs the question. Do you want out of this marriage?”
A taut silence stretched, grew, before she finally raised her gaze to his, and what he saw blew his mind: the shimmer of tears, the glimmer of defeat.
“Hell, Daisy, I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s okay, I should’ve told you..." Her words hitched on a sob, and he folded her into his arms, powerless to do anything but hold her while the woman he’d seen, defiant, sassy, and brave, cried.
Even when he’d callously shoved her away ten years earlier, she hadn’t shed a single tear, and he’d admired her for it. Now, as the floodgates opened and she clung to him, her tears drenching his shirt, the tiny crack in his heart that had opened the moment he’d found that wedding band lying forlornly on the hall table widened, and he knew he could never repair it again.
Desperate to deflect her tears, he said, “So are you going to help me transform this place into a hotel, whatever... or what?”
Amaya’s sobs petered out as she sniffled and swiped at her eyes before raising her head.
“You’re really going to convert this place into a hotel?”
“Uh-huh. But I’ll need the undivided attention of IT specialists to help me do it or whatever."
She rolled her eyes, wiping her tears away. “Really? And for how long?”
“A lifetime.”
Her eyes widened as she gnawed on her deliciously plump lower lip. “Are you—?’
“I’m saying I love you and I want this marriage to work, Amaya. I want more Tommy—lots of little Tommy. I would’ve been here sooner, but I had to clear up urgent business so I could spend as long as it takes here in Chicago. With you, with our son.”
He grabbed her hands and held them splayed against his chest, directly over his heart, beating wildly for her, only her. “It’s what I wanted to say to you the morning you ran out. I’ll do whatever it takes to make our marriage work and to show you how much I love you.”
Her lower lip wobbled, and he shook his head. “Oh, no, you don’t.”
He kissed her slowly and tenderly, infusing every ounce of his love for this incredible woman into it, hoping she could feel one tenth of his love for her.
To his horror, she broke the kiss, wrenched out of his embrace, and backed away, her gaze firmly fixed on her shoes.
“Daisy?”
When she finally met his gaze, hers was anguished. “There’s so much I haven’t told you.”
“Try me.”
Taking a step towards her before thinking better of it, he held his hands out to her, palm up. “There’s nothing you could tell me that would change how I feel about you.”
Amaya swallowed a sob.
She couldn’t comprehend that Chase was here, let alone absorb the impact of his words.
He loved her.
He was willing to spend however long it took to make their marriage work with her here in Chicago.
He’d followed her here, had made the effort he hadn’t made before—could it be that he really had changed? That he was offering her something entirely new?
But rather than blurt out the truth, as was her first instinct, she stalled, searching for the right words, humiliated at the thought of the man she loved seeing her as anything less than capable.
“Why did you run? Leave the ring behind?”
“Because this job is everything to me.”
Chase glared at her, his blue eyes turning icy in the wan light filtering through the tattered velvet drapes.
“I see.”
From his rigid posture to his clenched hands, tension radiated off him, and she knew she’d have to tell him the truth to salvage their relationship.
“Actually, you don’t.”
Weariness seeped through her body as Amaya slumped into a stuffy armchair, waving away the puff of dust that arose like a mushroom cloud.
“I need the money. Desperately.”
Realisation dawned as he sat opposite and leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
“But if you need cash, I could—”
“That’s exactly why I left.”
She shook her head and twisted her hair into a loose knot before releasing it. “I need to do this on my own. It’s my problem; I’ll take care of it.”
“What problem?”
Wincing, she rubbed the bridge of her nose, a futile gesture to ward off the headache building between her eyes.
“My father.”
Chase stiffened, as she’d known he would.
“What’s he done now?”
She sighed, toying with the frayed edge of the chair’s arm before folding her fingers to stop fiddling.
“You know about him giving me money when I left to go to France?”
“Yeah?”
She leapt from the chair and started pacing. “He knew I didn’t want a cent of his money. He knew I wanted nothing to do with him. I thought it was all about control. Even tried to flaunt it when I tried to make peace after so many years.”
Suspicion clouded his eyes. “Why did you need to make peace? Haven’t you kept in touch?”
She shook her head, hating the road their conversation had taken, for it could only lead to one destination: full disclosure.
“When I left, I severed all ties.”
“Why?” he asked.
“For freedom.”
Freedom from fear, from tyranny, from a father who’d morphed into a monster.
Chase frowned in confusion. “You moved to France to be free of him and—”
“But I’m not free. I’ll never be free until I’ve paid back every cent.”
“But we paid him, remember? Doubled. Then I paid him more,” he frowned. Then Chase shook his head. “You’re not telling me everything.” He stood and reached out to her, but she stubbornly backed away. “Tell me. Amaya.”
“I can’t.”
Her whisper faded into silence, finally broken by his exasperated sigh.
“I’m your husband. I love you. I’m here for you, always.”
The concern, the sincerity, and the honesty in that last word broke through her emotional barriers, and she sagged against the window sill.