Chapter 15
Tilly: How is life holed up in a luxury penthouse with an enigmatic billionaire?
Chloe: Harder than one might think.
Tilly: Oh? ;)
Chloe: Are you seeing Logan again?
Tilly: Nice try, why is it hard?
Chloe: You know why.
Tilly: I do, but I want to hear you admit it.
Chloe: Because despite every logical reason my brain has not to, my lady parts want to invite him in for open season. Happy?
Tilly: Pretty darn happy, yeah.
CHLOE
“Ah, the blushing bride.” I whip around to see Chase Walker standing with a champagne flute in one hand, the other tucked into his slacks pocket, signature smirk on his face.
“Ha-ha.” I roll my eyes and turn back to the celebration that’s in full swing.
We’re standing on the lamplit porch of a sprawling Long Island home that backs onto a private lake.
The upper echelons seem to have come out in swarms to celebrate Miguel Guerra’s seventieth birthday and I’m feeling rather out of place.
I’m quite sure I’ve already seen two movie stars and a popular sports player.
“Where is the husband to be?” Chase steps beside me, scanning the crowd. There is a dance floor set up on a raised colonnade-lined dais overlooking the lake, and the jazz band is in full swing. A canopy of fairy lights wink in and out of life lazily as the cicadas sing their background serenade.
“Getting us drinks, which I have a feeling I’m going to need…” I trail off as I raise my eyebrows at a smug elderly gentleman with two very young, very blonde women on his arms as they walk by. They giggle and paw at his penguin suit, like he’s the best thing since sliced bread.
“If you need a little something else to take the edge off, there is a bathroom back there with our name on it, Red.” He winks, slinging an arm around my shoulder.
“Little?” I tease, quirking one brow up at him.
He beams, letting out a deep chuckle. “Figuratively speaking, because if we’re talking literal—”
“Get your grubby paws off my fiancée, Walker,” Zeke growls as he appears at our side, pressing a champagne flute into my hand and snaking his arm around my waist.
I blink as I’m tugged out of Chase’s reach, right into the hard steel side of Zeke’s body.
Heat pools in my cheeks as the embers of our earlier encounter spark back to life.
We’ve slipped back into easy conversation since we arrived, but truthfully, I feel shaken to my core at how things spiraled in the back of the car.
I had all but purred and rubbed myself against the man like a cat in heat.
I knew I was attracted to him, but even so, I didn’t realize it would feel so…
explosive. Even his fingers on me now are burning my skin beneath the waist of my dress.
And the kiss. Wow. For all his faults, Zeke Guerra knows his way around a woman.
That much is apparent. There is a reason he knows a woman’s body so well, a little smug voice whispers at the back of my mind.
“Fake fiancée,” Chase corrects easily with a smug grin over the opening strains of a saxophone number.
I raise my glass to lips that feel a little bruised and take a sip of the sparkling golden liquid, almost sighing as the bubbles dance over my tongue.
This is no cheap fizz. “If either of you are about to start peeing around me in a circle, I’ll leave,” I deadpan, fixing them both with a warning look.
Zeke’s dark eyes are fixed on Chase, his brows knitted into a scowl. “Fake or not, I'm not going to let another man grope my girl. Especially not when that man is you.”
“Hey, a lady has needs. If you’re not man enough to offer to satisfy them, then I—”
“If you finish that sentence, I’ll knock you on your fucking ass.” Zeke seethes, tugging me around his back and stepping toward Chase.
“Enough!” I hiss, batting Zeke’s arm off me and inserting myself between them. It’s not lost on me that many women would probably kill to be sandwiched so closely between these two men. The testosterone is almost overwhelming.
Chase’s hazel eyes twinkle with laughter as Zeke glares. “You.” I point as Zeke, who begrudgingly tears his eyes away from Chase. “Lighten up a little, you know he’s doing it on purpose.”
“Yeah dude—”
“And you.” I turn my finger on Chase, cutting him off. He looks down at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Stop winding him up. You run one of the city's largest tech firms, and you're far too old to be acting like a teenage boy.”
He grins, raising his flute to me in a toast and taking a sip. “You’re mean sometimes, Red.”
“I’m not mean.” I sniff, turning to look back at the dancing guests. “I’m spicy nice.” He tips his head back and laughs, and whilst Zeke is silent, I sense rather than see him untense a little at my side.
“You’re a real fucking asshole when you want to be, you know that, Chase?” Zeke huffs, placing his hand back on my waist—softer this time.
“Yup.” Chase nods.
“Well, I suppose we had better go and get this over with.” Zeke angles his head to look down at me. “You ready to meet my father?”
I offer him a small smile, sliding my own hand beneath the undone jacket of his suit and tucking my fingertips beneath his belt at his hip. “Sure thing, Papi.”
Chase barks out another laugh as Zeke narrows his eyes. “Papi? As in, daddy?” Chase sounds ecstatic, and I try to bite back a laugh.
“Absolutely not,” Zeke warns, tightening his grip on my waist.
“What?” I ask innocently. “You shot down all my other pet names.”
“Dude, it’s a thing. I met a girl last week who wanted me to—”
“Yes, thank you, Chase. I’m well aware.” Zeke rolls his eyes and pulls me away without another word.
I smile as he guides me under the hanging boughs of a willow tree flanking the tables of seated guests. “And you thought I was in anger management.” He hums noncommittally in response as he declines his head at a couple of the guests who are acknowledging him as we pass.
“Any last words of advice?” I ask as we make our way to the pergola at one end of the dance floor that has a grandiose table set back and hidden under twining jasmine vines snaking over the beechwood rafters.
“Just to be yourself.” Zeke shrugs. His demeanor is casual, but I can sense something coiling tighter in him the closer we get. Like a spring about to burst.
“Really? You don’t want me to be a good little wife and be all smiles and demure composure?” I snort, eyeing a regal older lady with long, dark hair perched on a golden backed chair at one end.
“Oh no.” He chuckles darkly. “I picked you because I knew you could stand your own. If he acts out, I want you to give him hell, mi fuego.” The look he gives me sets my skin alight, his dark eyes sparkling and his strong, stubble covered jawline set tight.
I feel an answering tug deep in my stomach that has me pressing my thighs a little closer together as we walk.
I spot his father almost instantly. He’s the kind of man who sticks out in a crowd.
Large, assured, and reeking of power. Another man sits beside him, leaning in close to talk in his ear, but Miguel Guerra doesn’t even glance his way.
No. His eyes have homed in on me draped across his son's arm and his face sets into a grim line.
“Miguel.” Zeke greets his father with all the warmth of an arctic wind. I can see the slight of addressing him by his name hits by the flash in his dark eyes. But he doesn’t acknowledge it. Zeke’s brother Logan sits a few chairs down, and grimaces.
“Well, she’s certainly pretty enough,” Miguel drawls, casting his eyes away from me as if I were as irrelevant as a piece of gum on the bottom of his tailored loafer.
My spine straightens and I square my shoulders as indignation flares.
“She has a name and is right here.” The older man’s onyx gaze jerks back to mine with renewed assessment.
Zeke stays silent at my side but squeezes my waist encouragingly.
I assess his father right back. Even though he’s seated, I can tell he’s a tall man.
Well built, if a little loose in the stomach.
His dark hair is speckled with grey, his moustache more so.
He was definitely handsome in his day, but his features are just a little too sharp to carry this through to old age.
“Forgive me, estimado.” He dips his head briefly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Tell me, the women in your family, do they produce sons?”
It takes everything I have in me not to let my shock show. What kind of archaic institution is this family?
“That’s enough,” Zeke warns quietly from my side, his deep, rumbling voice cutting easily across the music.
“No, it’s okay, darling,” I say softly, placing one hand on his chest and trying not to be distracted by how it doesn’t give even a millimeter.
“I think what your father means to ask is if I intend to be a good wife? If I plan to be loving and supportive? If I plan to treat his son with the respect he deserves?” I emphasize the word, honing it into a weapon.
Miguel Guerra doesn’t bat an eyelid. “And the answer is yes, I do.” I hold his lifeless gaze for what feels like an eternity, refusing to back down.
The man sucks in a slow breath through his nostrils and nods once, barely moving his head.
“Good. Well, now that you’ve been introduced, I’d like to dance with my future wife,” Zeke says stiffly, turning us away and directing me toward the dance floor without a backward glance.
I let out a low breath as he sweeps me up into a graceful hold.
Anger roils beneath my skin, prickling uncomfortably at the base of my throat.
Zeke laughs gently and lowers his head so that he can speak into my ear. “Relax, mi fuego.”
I shiver, turning my head away as his breath caresses my skin. “Your father is a chauvinistic pig.” But even so, I do relax as he begins to move us around the dance floor.
“It went better than I expected.” Zeke shrugs, whirling me around under a twinkling line of string lights.
My eyes snap to his. “If that was better than expected, what were you expecting?”
He gives me a dark smile, and something unknown dances in his chocolate irises. “Logan once brought a girlfriend to a family dinner. My father called her a gold-digging prostitute and refused to even look at her.”
I blink in rapid fire, trying to process. “That’s… That makes me want to march right back over there and kick him in the balls.” I cast a scathing glance at the older man, who is once again conversing with his companion.
Zeke laughs. “As much as I would love to see you do that, I think it might undo all the good work you just did.”
I scoff, shaking my head. He rubs his thumb gently over the base of my spine in a way that makes my head spin and has nothing to do with the way he effortlessly guides us around the floor. I’m not even sure I can dance, but he makes it as simple as putting one foot forward.
“I mean it, Chloe. You did well, thank you.” He moves our linked hands to my chin and tips it up so that I’m forced to look at him.
He dips his head and my heart stills. As in, actually stops beating entirely for a moment.
Just as his lips are about to brush mine, he seems to think better of it and presses his lips just beyond the corner of my mouth.
My cheeks burn. “One step closer to ruling the Guerra empire—you’re welcome,” I snark, pulling my cheek gently away.
He stiffens and I wonder if it’s because I retreated.
As much as he’s paying me to put on this facade, I still need to be able to leave this deal with my heart intact.
And the heat of his body pressed close to mine right now is making it very hard to concentrate.
“Right,” he says roughly, but he doesn’t sound pleased about it at all.