Page 4 of The Wrong Fiancée

"Damian is furious with you for staying here. You fall for this girl?"

I waited with bated breath for his answer.

Dean laughed. "She's a hotel maid, Dante."

"And?" Dante inquired.

"I don't think we're intellectually on par, do you?"

"I never thought you were such a snob. So, what is she? Just a good fuck?"

"At the base of it, yeah. But I like her company out of bed, too."

"Dean, you only see her when she's in your room," Dante pointed out.

Dean chuckled. "We've been out and about. I've been a gentleman. I took her out to dinner and…."

"To places where no one would recognize you?"

"Maybe."

"So, mostly, you've been fucking her."

"We have been having amazing sex, yes," Dean said. "Anyway, I'm leaving tomorrow and this time I am getting on that plane. Damian will probably come here and drag me to Hong Kong if I don't."

"And you won't miss her?" Dante asked.

"I'll miss the awesome head she gives."

I hadn't seen him that night. I hadn’t been able to. I was humiliated. I had texted him that I was busy and wouldn't be able to come by. He hadn't insisted, just simply told me he was leavingthe following morning. His last message to me was:I enjoyed our time together. Take care of yourself. Aloha.

He'd written those same words on the resort notepad and added insult to injury by leaving me a thousand dollars. Was it payment for services rendered? Part of me wanted to throw the money in his face. But then Daddy crashed his car, and I couldn’t afford the luxury of pride—my needs were far too big for it.

That’s when I learned the hard lesson: when life skids into a ditch, the first thing to go is pride because pride doesn’t pay the bills or put food on the table.

During a weak moment, I'd sought information about Dean. Google had told me he had a PhD in Asian Art History and was an expert in classical Chinese ink paintings and Japanese Edo-period woodblock prints. He specialized in rare, historic pieces that only the wealthiest collectors could afford.

Leilani:And?

I quickly typed a response.

Me:Didn't expect to actually see him, though.

The dots appeared almost immediately, and then Leilani's reply came through.

Leilani:OMG! Like talk?

I hesitated, staring out at the waves beyond the bungalow. I could already feel the tension building in my chest, the familiar knot that had formed the second I laid eyes on him again. After four years, Dean was back in my world—and I didn't know how to handle it.

Well, Elika, fake it until you make it. If you keep pretending you’re over him, you will eventually be over him.

Me:No need. I'm fine. I just need to finish my shift.

I could imagine Leilani frowning at her phone, probably already figuring out how to corner me later with coffee and questions.

Leilani:Drinks tonight? Don’t even think about saying you have a headache.

I laughed.

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