Chapter 21
GRACE
Asher and I don't revisit that kiss. I make sure of it by avoiding him at all costs. It's probably not great for building the image of our fake relationship, but Asher doesn't push it. He doesn't ask me to do anything.
For the most part, I stay in our room and read on my Kindle while alternating between lounging by our private pool or in bed. Asher comes and goes, but mostly goes, leaving me to my own devices.
Which I've been content with. Until tonight. I’m becoming a bit feral and itchy for socialization.
"You're coming to dinner."
I lift my head from where I'm cocooned in our white comforter, Kindle in hand and a bag of chips beside me.
Just because I want to talk to people doesn't mean I want to talk to those people. Beyond the safety of our room is Asher's family, and Celeste made it clear they aren't happy with this marriage arrangement.
"Why?"
He takes an easy stride to me, yanking at the white comforter I'm wrapped in until it falls, revealing me in another set of matching pajamas from Vivian.
"You're in your pajamas in the middle of the day while you're in another country. Have you even moved all day?"
"Yes!" I argue, but then snap my mouth closed. I only climbed out of bed to grab the room service I ordered, but then crawled right back in. It's not like it's that bad; I was planning to shower eventually…
Asher gives me a stern look. "Get up. Shower. Get dressed."
"But—"
He puts his hand up, silencing me mid-sentence.
"This is not a request, Grace."
My jaw parts, a fight brewing on the tip of my tongue. How dare he order me around?
Except, a tingle spreads through my body and lands straight in my core.
I close my lips and turn off my Kindle, swinging my legs off the bed and moving wordlessly toward the bathroom.
"Good girl."
Warmth floods my body; so much so, I freeze. Why do those words make me feel so… good?
I ignore the heat that’s building and slip into the bathroom as fast as possible. The shower cools me down, and by the time I exit, I'm feeling put together again.
Asher is waiting for me, sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers tapping away on his phone, as usual. I walk past him in my towel, moving to the dresser where my things are unpacked, rooting through until I find a simple linen dress. I pull it on, attempting to hide my body as I do.
He's supposed to be my fiancé, but I'm not sure we've graduated to being naked in front of each other.
When I'm dressed and ready, Asher finally looks up from his phone, eyes scanning over me, leaving me feeling like I'm being checked for flaws.
"You look nice," he says simply.
"Uh, thanks."
And then he pockets the phone and stands, reaching for me to take one of my arms. He tugs me in until I'm only a few inches from him, the heat from his body warming mine. Lifting one hand, he reaches up to brush my hair behind my ear.
"Here's what's going to happen." He has my full attention, my eyes glued to his.
"We're gonna get drinks with my siblings before dinner.
You're going to tell them you had a bit of a headache and that's why you stayed inside.
Dove's gonna ask how you're feeling now, and you'll tell her peppermint and lavender oils work wonders.
After drinks, we'll go to dinner, repeat the same story with my mother.
Her assistant is going to be there and will want to talk to you about the wedding.
You just adore the wedding planner we hired.
You're so excited; you've always dreamt of a spring wedding in the city.
Dove is going to be angry that it's so soon, but that's okay.
I'll take care of her if she says anything.
Once we get through dinner, we're going to paint the image that we're retiring early, young lovers and all. "
I swallow roughly. That's specific. And a lot to remember.
"And how will we do that?"
He leans in, reducing the space between us and invading my senses with that sea salt and cedar scent.
"By acting very in love." He says the words deeply, seriously. Dread and anticipation mingle inside me.
On the one hand, I'd very much like to kiss Asher again. One the other? If I keep doing that, this charade is going to be harder to leave when our year is up.
"You ready?" he asks, steely eyes narrowing in an assessing gaze. I feel naked, like he's reading my mind, seeing the thoughts I try to keep buried.
"Ready," I repeat, voice hoarse.
And then, as if he didn't just predict the entire evening, Asher leads me out of our room.
The evening goes as Asher says it will. We have drinks with his siblings. When Dove asks how I'm feeling, her words sound coated in sugar, sickly sweet, but the fake kind. I tell her that some peppermint and lavender oil on my temples has me feeling like a new woman, and we both laugh.
Asher's hand is always on my body. A palm at the center of my lower back, fingers tracing delicate circles on my knee, his thumb tracing over the pulse point on my wrist.
I'm not used to so much physical touch, and I surprise myself by not pulling away from it and instead leaning in. His touch comforts me, grounds me in every moment, making me feel… safe. It's strange, leaning on my fake billionaire fiancé for safety, but that’s how I feel.
When we transition from drinks to dinner, Asher pulls me into his side, pressing a kiss to my temple and whispering softly, "Good girl. You're doing such a good job."
The praise makes my body melt into his. There's an easiness in my chest, no ache or stress that normally lives there.
Just peace. It takes me a moment to realize what's happening, that giving Asher the lead for the night has brought me a sense of calm.
No decisions to make, nothing to worry about. All I have to do is just what he says.
At dinner, he pulls out my chair and guides me to sit. Across from him is Celeste's assistant. She reaches across immediately, extending her hand for me to shake.
"I don't think we've formally met. I'm Calla Mercer, Celeste's assistant."
Asher squeezes my leg, and I return the handshake. "Grace."
Her eyes drop briefly to the giant rock on my left hand, then swing back to my face.
"How's wedding planning going? If you need any help, I'd be happy to assist. I'm quite good at planning parties."
I suck in a breath, remembering what Asher told me before we left. "The wedding planner we hired is phenomenal." I look to Asher, and he gives me a smile, nodding in agreement.
"Well then, I can't wait to see her work. When did you say the wedding is again?" Calla questions, with a tilt of her head.
"May."
On the other side of the table, Calla's eyes widen, and Dove whips her head to the side, looking at me. "Did you just say May?"
I can feel my heart speed up a bit, the need to ease her discomfort rising in me. I want to say no, no, it's fine. What month do you want me to get married?
But Asher doesn't give me a chance to spiral. He squeezes my knee as he faces his sister. "Yes, May." His tone is stern, and the two siblings stare each other down. There are unspoken words, something passing between them, but neither starts whatever fight is brewing at the table.
"That's in two months." Dove’s nearly gaping at Asher, her fingers gripped around her fork as if she's using the instrument to stop herself from squeezing his throat.
"Why so soon?" Calla cuts in with her question.
“I've always dreamt of a spring wedding, and she's really pulling my vision together."
Asher squeezes my thigh again, twice in succession, the motion feeling like he's silently saying good girl.
"Asher." Dove’s features don’t settle; if anything, she looks more tense. "It's insane to plan a wedding that soon."
He shrugs, nonchalant and completely unbothered. I look to him, admiring his calmness and the way it sucks me into his orbit, making me calm too.
"It's done." No colorful prose or apologies. Just two words.
Dove stews in her anger as Wren changes the conversation, and suddenly no one is talking about my soon-to-be marriage anymore.
Dinner goes on smoothly, Celeste and Leonard ignoring me for the most part.
Afterwards, when others are dancing and mingling, Asher stands me up, wrapping his arms around me and nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck.
"You can't get enough of me," he murmurs. The statement catches me off guard for a moment, and then I remember his plan. That we're madly in love and are about to sneak back to our room.
I press a kiss to his jawline and curl into him, bringing my body as close as humanly possible.
He's warm and smells delicious, and I find comfort in his arms.
He pulls his face back, gray eyes scanning me before he leans in and kisses me again. That damn kiss. Like every other one, it knocks my breath away, and I cling to him, my body taking over, a feral need for more.
More of his mouth. More of his body. More of him.
His tongue enters my mouth, lashing against my own and tasting of mint. I melt into him, letting him control the kiss like he's controlled everything else tonight. And it feels easy. Right. Perfect.
There's no war in my mind. No anxiety-fueled monologues running through my mind.
It's quiet, completely focused on him.
"Let's go back to our room, fiancée," he says softly after breaking the kiss.
I can feel eyes on me, but none of them matter. Smiling, I nod and follow Asher as he leads me out of the room, my hand in his.