Page 46 of The Wrong Fiancée

"You shouldn't be here, Dean." I knew I sounded weak and frail.

The truth was that I wanted him here. Oh God, but I did. I remembered how cherished he'd made me feel that short time we were together. No one had wanted to take care of me before or since Dean. How hungry was I for affection that his small gestures ofmaking sure I was fed made me fall in love with him? It was embarrassing to know I was so pathetic, like a wounded bird who was thrilled when someone gave me a stroke on the wing instead of a kick to my ribs. It had meant more to me than him. All my relationships were like that. My sister meant more to me than I did to her, same with my father—the freaking world.

"You should go," my voice shook as I spoke. My back was turned to him. I was still holding onto my backpack as I stood in the dark, moonlight spilling in through the blinds. I dropped the bag on the old sofa and put my palms on the backrest, leaning, finding some support.

He'd kissed Felicity on that dance floor. He'd danced with her. Held her close. They'd laughed together and looked so happy.

Then why is he here now? Maybe he's here because he feels something for me. Maybe…stop it, Elika. He's engaged. He left you a thousand dollars like you were a whore. He told his friend you gave good head and were too uneducated, poor, and stupid to be suitable for him. Remember that. Keep remembering his words.

He exhaled, frustration and something deeper lacing the sound. "I know I shouldn't be here. Believe me, I know."

I felt a lump forming in my throat, but I swallowed it down, determined to stay in control. I couldn't let myself get swept up in this. Not again.

"She's well suited for you. She has a PhD from an Ivy League school. She has all that polish. What did you say? Intellectual equal? Yeah, she's that. I'm just a maid—I can talk to you about the best way to clean a toilet or how best to remove a stain from a carpet. Trust me," I turned around to face him, pulling my courage and strength around me because I was not going to be the other woman in this story; I deserved better. "You and I havenothingbetween us, no common ground,nothing. I'm sure you've fucked a lot of women since me—you definitely had before me—we've both moved on. It's inappropriate for you to come here, knowing that I'm working for the resort you're a guest at."

Dean's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "You think I'mtrying to take advantage of you?" His voice was rough now, raw, the calm exterior slipping. "I made a mistake. More than one, probably. But I'm not here to fuck you. As you keep pointing out, I have a fiancée. I'm not looking for extras."

There it was, the anger, the entitlement. He was in my cottage, and he was behaving like I was throwing myself at him.

"Good, because I'm not an extra; I'm the freaking main course," I said with more conviction than I felt. "You think I'm not good enough for you? Dean Archer, you are notgood enough for me. I want to be with a man who sees people, not just their surface. The woman you're engaged to may have all thequalificationsyou want but none of the qualities required to be a good and decent person."

"I'm not going to discuss Felicity with you." he snapped.

I closed my eyes for a second, gathering my thoughts. This was too much.

"I don't want you to discussanythingwith me," I retorted, my eyes boring into his. "Now get out before I tell Mr. Giordano thatyouare harassing me by coming to my home."

He took a step back. "You're right. I should not be here."

"Well, look at that, I'm right about something." I folded my arms, feeling more confident about my stance.

He took a deep breath and tucked his hands in his pockets. "I'm sorry. I didn't come here to argue. I actually came…I came to tell you that the Thatchers will behave themselves. Dante has already talked to Sam and?—"

"I know that already. You didn't have to come to tell me that."

He was changing his tune. When I got here, he said he didn't know why he was here, just that he couldn't sleep, and now he was doing me a favor. Well, he could go fuck himself.

"I know," he said, his voice cracking, and it was the way he said it—so quietly, so broken—that made me look at him again.

I didn't know what to say. There were a million reasons why this was wrong, why this could never work. And yet, standing there, looking at him, all of those reasons felt like they were slipping away, like sand between my fingers.

"You needto leave," I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper, but I wasn't sure if I meant it.

Dean didn't move at first. He just stood there, searching my face like he was trying to find an answer I wasn't ready to give him. Then, slowly, he nodded, his expression tightening as if he'd made some kind of decision.

"Yeah," he murmured. "You're right."

I turned my back to him as I heard his footsteps taking him away from me. My heart hammered in my chest, and I watched him through the lanai window, disappearing into the darkness beyond the reach of the moonlight.

I stood still for a moment longer, staring after him, my mind spinning with a thousand thoughts, a thousand emotions.

Dean Archer had no place in my life anymore. I had told myself that a hundred times. But if that was true, then why did I feel like something important had just walked away from me?

Chapter Seventeen

DEAN

My suitcase was packed. I was leaving for a few weeks. I'd be in Hong Kong and Paris, maybe even swing by San Francisco.

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