Page 17 of SEAL'S Secret Vows

“Yes. I’ll marry you.” I blurt out angrily.

“What? I mean have you thought about it?” he asks.

“Yes. I mean, I agree to the fake marriage.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, his eyes scanning the length of my face thoroughly as if trying to gauge my real emotions.

“Yes, I’m sure. You’re right. This is the only way to get this leech off my back and it’ll help you solve this case.”

“I understand you’re under pressure from Ethan but if you need more time to think about it, you can.”

“No, I’m done thinking. I’ve made my decision. Unless you don’t want to do this anymore.”

“No. I do want to,” he replies, still looking at me curiously.

“Well, let’s get on with it. What do we have to do?”

“Okay.” Chase says slowly, and I watch as he slowly morphs from Chase-who-putters-around-the-house to Chase, Navy SEAL. His eyes harden, and I feel better—thisisa mission. “We need a wedding dress, rings, and a photographer. I’ll make a few calls and order you a dress unless you want to use the same dress you wore on your last wedding day.” I stare daggers at him, and he raises his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll take that as a no and make that call now.”

“And after that, I’ll inform my superiors of my plan of an undercover wedding. Hopefully it’ll restore their former perception of me.”

A beep comes from the monitor screen beside the front door and we both look at the door. Chase walks over to the monitor to answer the call, and a bright, cheery male voice comes through.

“Hola! Commander Chase. I’m back with lots of recipes that you like.” A voice says in a sing-song voice. I haven’t met this person before.

“Hmm... great, I hope you brought a lot of spices and fruits, too. I must say I’ve missed your cooking. Someone here has commented that I’m not that good of a cook.” Chase says smirking while unlocking the gates.

“Oh my, I wonder who would dare to say such a thing to my commander.” Whoever this is, he seems to be quite dramatic.

“The door is open, Javier.”

“Yes, thank you, sir. I’ll be right there.”

“Who’s that?”

“My chef. Javier.”

“Oh, does he stay in the house?”

“No, he stays in one of the rooms in the bungalow at the back.”

“And he’s going to be well aware of the arrangement, right?” I ask.

“Aware? No. He won’t.”

“Which means?” I raise a brow at him as my question sinks in. A knock comes from the door just as he’s about to say something else, and for the first time in a while Chase looks confused.

“He goes to the bungalow when he’s done for the day. He rarely comes upstairs unless it’s urgent. So, I’d say this may work with him around, or…”

“You should open the door, though,” I say, and he runs his hand through his hair—most likely thinking of what to say to the chef about my presence, and why I’ll be staying in his house for God knows how long we’ll play husband and wife.

Chase must have thought this would be much easier than he imagined. Opening the door, he welcomes a middle-aged man who is wearing a wide grin and carrying bags of groceries.

“Good morning, Commander.”

“Good morning, Javier. It’s Lieutenant Commander to you, Javier,” he replies jokingly, shutting the door.

“Well, Commander’s close by, right? Lieutenant commander and commander, same thing. Don’t you agree?” Javier adds, winking.

---