Chapter Twenty-One
I'M AFRAID AGAIN.
I hate that I am, but I feel helpless. Powerless. Fear is gnawing at my bones, and it's all because of Delia's words.
It's only been ten minutes, I think. Ten minutes since we left the room while Jeanne and Mr. Lyle talk and Mr. Everford's men keep Sandy and the others from following us out. I don't think they will. But I guess he's just not taking chances.
Just like I'm not taking any chances right now.
I have so many questions. So many things I want to say. But I'm just so afraid of what I might hear—
Women like you are always replaceable, darling.
—and so I simply find myself going with the flow yet again, just flowing in whatever direction he takes me as his hand settles on the small of my back.
It's the simplest touch. There's even a layer separating my skin from his. And yet the way my body is reacting, it's as if he's done something so much more.
We start walking down the corridor toward the lobby, and his palm doesn't lift.
Every step keeps the heat of him pressed against the same place.
I'm a forty-two-year-old woman who has been touched by a man for twenty years.
Somehow this is the touch that has me holding my breath.
A hand against the back of a shirt. A hand that isn't even moving.
Stop, Nicole.
But I can't stop, because that's when I begin to notice things.
The first thing is the hotel manager who has been waiting at the end of the hallway, hands folded in front of him, expression carefully composed. He doesn't approach. He doesn't speak. He inclines his head a fraction of an inch as we pass.
Mr. Everford doesn't break stride.
He doesn't have to.
The second thing is the housekeeper who steps off the carpet runner and presses her back against the wall to let us pass, even though there was easily enough room for both of us.
The third is the bellman at the corner who lifts his radio to his mouth as we approach, says something quiet, and then stands aside.
By the time we reach the lobby, the truth of what it means to be with him...
The truth of who he is...
It makes me realize just how little I know about him.
I've been near him for a week and a half, and somehow I missed all of this. The first time he took me from a hotel I was unconscious. The second time I was hiding in a guest room in his house. I never saw what it was like to walk through the world on his arm.
Now I see.
A woman at the concierge desk does a double take and then pretends she didn't. Two men by the elevators stop talking when he comes into view.
The doorman on duty has the door already open by the time we're three strides away, eyes fixed on a point just past Mr. Everford's shoulder so as not to make actual eye contact.
Bright sunlight hits us when we step out of the hotel, and I instinctively shade my eyes with the back of my hand. My eyes adjust after a moment, and when I lower my hand, I realize it's Montero right in front of us, and he already has the door to the backseat open.
He didn't need to be told.
But he does do one thing I'm not expecting.
His eyes flicker over my face, and they catch on my cheek.
The cheek that is probably still red from where Sandy hit me.
Montero's expression doesn't change much.
It rarely does. But the muscle along his jaw goes tight for just a second, and his nod when he holds the door is just a fraction lower than the nod he usually gives.
He's angry on my behalf.
I don't think anyone has been angry on my behalf in twenty years.
I hesitate for a second before going in. No matter what happens, I'll always be grateful for what he's done...because it's over now.
The truth finally hits me as Montero closes the door.
I'm...no longer married.
I'm back to being me.
Just me.
And before I know it, I'm already removing my wedding ring as tears start to blur my gaze. I'm tempted to throw it out of the window, but I manage to control myself and shove it inside my purse. I think I'll just sell it, give the proceeds to charity—
"Nicole."
The roughness of his voice is like a siren's call in itself, causing me to simply look up in instinctive submission...and that's when I see it.
His head is lowering toward me, and while I have this precious half-second’s chance to turn away—
I don’t take it.
Because this...
This is the right time to let his arm curve around my waist.
The right time for him to pull me close.
This is the right time to be his, and...oh.
I never ever let myself wonder what his lips on mine would feel like.
Taste like.
But this, oh this.
It’s beyond anything I thought possible, a kiss that has my body melting against his like it's always known that this was where I truly belong, and I can only cling to his shoulders as the kiss deepens more and more and more...until he lifts his head.
Because he has to, for my sake.
One more second of that, and I would've passed out from lack of oxygen, and even now I'm still taking deep gulps of air while my heart races like, oh I can't even remember, I don't even know if it ever raced like this for Sandy.
All I know is that when I look up at him, and see his blue eyes blazing so fiercely with emotions I'm still terrified to name—
He'll replace you, too.
—I look at him anyway.
I look at him, and Delia's words don't change what I see.
"Chase..."
I still have no idea what this is between us, but what I do know is enough.
My ex-husband's billionaire boss is a good man—
"You finally said my name." His voice is still rough, his accent more pronounced.
—and I don't want to waste another second of my life.
"Do you like it?"
He cups my chin. "What do you think?"
I answer him by wrapping my arms around his neck, and the world fades as he pulls me into his lap, and his mouth conquers mine in another kiss.
The End...for now.
Please keep an eye out for the next installment in Chase and Nicole’s story.
Flip to the next page to enjoy other excerpts from other marriage-in-crisis romances from Marian Tee.