Page 39 of Marrying His Brother

I know immediately what he’s talking about, and my heart skips a beat.

“We should talk about last night,” he says.

“It was mistake,” I say quickly. “It shouldn’t have happened, and it won’t happen again.”

“Emily,” Andrew starts to say.

I glance down at my watch, desperately trying to end the confusion. “I have a meeting with the finance team in ten minutes,” I say, my voice a little too bright. It’s a hint, and we both know it.

Andrew stands up, smoothing down his jacket. “Of course,” he says, his voice flat. “We’ll talk later.”

I watch him walk out, the door clicking shut behind him, and my shoulders slump with relief. Talking about it will humiliate me further. Best to forget about it.

Chapter 17: Andrew

It’s been three weeks since Emily and I decided to start renovations at the Army Base Riviera, and it’s been nonstop ever since. I’ve made it a point to be at the site almost every day, overseeing the work, making sure things are on schedule.

The first thing we tackled was the exterior. The building’s facade was a mess—faded gray, cracks running along the walls, and weeds creeping through the cracks in the pavement.

It looked more like a rundown barracks than a hotel, which, given its proximity to the actual military base, probably wasn’t helping. We’re giving it a complete facelift—new paint, fresh landscaping, modern signage. I want it to catch people’s eyes the moment they drive by.

But every time I see that damn base in the distance, my stomach twists.

It’s like a shadow, hovering on the edge of my vision, a constant reminder of things I’d rather forget. I thought I’d be able to handle it—just keep my head down, focus on the work.

But some days, all it takes is the sound of heavy equipment or the sight of a uniformed guard patrolling nearby, and I’m right back there, in the thick of it.

My heart starts pounding, my skin prickles, and I have to force myself to breathe, to remember where I am.

So far, I’ve managed to keep it under control. But it’s exhausting, always being on edge, always fighting to keep the memories from dragging me under.

I check my watch, realizing it’s almost evening, and there’s still so much to be done. I find Stephen, the lead contractor, near the lobby, going over a blueprint with his team. He’s a burly guy, probably in his late forties, with a no-nonsense attitude that I appreciate.

“Stephen,” I call out, striding over. “How’s everything going with the interior updates?”

He looks up. “We’re making progress, but there’ve been a few hiccups. The plumbing in the guest bathrooms on the third floor isworse than we thought. We’ll need to replace most of the pipes, which is gonna push us back a few days.”

I bite back a curse, glancing at the floor plan. “How many rooms are affected?”

“About half of them,” he says, his tone apologetic. “We’ve already started tearing out the old pipes, but it’s slow work.”

I nod, trying to keep my frustration in check. “Alright. Prioritize those rooms, and let’s see if we can speed up the process without cutting corners. We need to have at least two floors fully operational by the end of the month.”

Stephen nods. “We’ll do our best, but I’m not making any promises. This place is a maze, and every time we open up a wall, it’s like we’re finding new surprises.”

I knew the Army needed a lot of work but the magnitude of it is shocking. “I get it. Just keep me updated. If we need to bring in more manpower, do it. We can’t afford any major delays.”

Stephen nods, making a note on his clipboard, and I can tell he’s already thinking of ways to get around the issue. I appreciate that. He’s always been reliable. In a project like this, that’s invaluable.

“We’re also waiting on the materials for the new flooring,” Stephen adds. “They were supposed to arrive this afternoon, but there’s been a delay. Should have them first thing tomorrow, though.”

I glance at the worn, scuffed tiles beneath our feet, already imagining the sleek, modern flooring that will replace them. “Make sure they’re installed as soon as they arrive. The lobby is the first thing guests see when they walk in. It needs to make a statement.”

Stephen nods, and I’m about to head back to the makeshift office we’ve set up when I catch sight of someone walking towards us from the entrance. Emily.

My breath hitches. I’ve barely seen her in the last three weeks. We’ve both been going out of our way to avoid each other.

The sight of her has my heart doing this weird, unsteady thing. She’s dressed in a fitted navy dress, her hair loose around hershoulders, and even in the middle of a construction site, she looks effortlessly composed.

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