Page 6 of Defending What's Mine

Asher glances at me, one eyebrow raised. “Showtime, sweetheart.”

I ignore the way my stomach flips when he calls me that and focus on plastering a smile on my face as we step out of the car. Ilink my arm through Asher ’s, trying to act like I haven’t already decided this entire week is going to be a disaster.

“Charlotte,” Wade says, stepping forward, his voice dripping with false charm. “It’s so good to see you.”

He makes a move to kiss my cheek, but I shift just enough to make it look like I didn’t see him coming. “Wade,” I reply with a smile so sweet it could give someone a cavity, “how lovely to see you, too.”

Asher steps in smoothly, his presence immediately calming me. He’s good at this. Makes my skin crawl. He pulls me a little closer, his hand settling on my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world. I’m pretty sure he can feel the tension rolling off me, but he doesn’t say anything.

“And who’s this?” Wade’s mother, Nancy Sinclair, asks, eyeing Asher like he’s an unexpected pest.

“This is Asher,” I say, my smile tightening. “My fiancé.”

For a moment, there’s a delicious, stunned silence. Wade’s eyebrows shoot up, and I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he tries to process the fact that I’ve suddenly shown up with a fiancé.

“Fiancé?” Wade repeats, like he’s just discovered a new species of animal. “That’s... surprising.”

Asher doesn’t miss a beat. “Nice to meet you,” he says, extending his hand to Wade with the most relaxed, I-don’t-care-that-you’re-here smile.

Wade takes his hand but keeps his gaze locked on me, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Can I have a word with you, Charlotte? Alone?”

I feel Asher stiffen beside me, but I’m already ready with an excuse. “Oh, I wish I could, Wade, but we’re absolutely exhausted from the drive.” I lean into Asher slightly, letting my head rest on his shoulder for good measure. “Aren’t we, darling?”

Asher picks up on the act immediately, his hand sliding up my back in a way that probably looks a lot more romantic than it feels. “Yeah, we should really get unpacked and settled before dinner,” he says, his voice warm and full of affection.

Wade looks like he wants to argue, but his parents are already whispering to each other, clearly intrigued by this new development. I flash Wade one last smile before practically dragging Asher inside.

“Thanks for the save,” I whisper as soon as we’re out of earshot.

“No problem,” he replies, sounding far too amused. “You were convincing.”

“I’ve had practice,” I mutter under my breath as we make our way through the grand lobby of the resort. Every inch of the place screams luxury, from the marble floors to the crystal chandeliers, but all I can think about is how we’re supposed to survive a week here, pretending we’re madly in love.

We reach the room, and the door swings open to reveal a suite straight out of a magazine. Huge king-sized bed, plush furniture, and a balcony with a view that would take my breath away if I weren’t already preoccupied with the fact thatwe have to share a room.

“Oh no,” I say, staring at the singular bed that dominates the space.

“Oh yes,” Asher replies with a grin that’s way too smug for my liking.

I whirl around to face him, hands on my hips. “Don’t get any ideas, Hawke. I’ll take the couch.”

“You’ll hurt your back,” he says, already walking toward the suitcase I dropped by the door. “Take the bed. I’ll survive.”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch. I’ll just—” I stop mid-sentence, realizing there’s no way I’m winning this argument. The couch looks about as comfortable as a pile of rocks.

With a sigh, I give up and flop down onto the bed. “Fine. But if you snore, I’ll smother you with a pillow.”

“Duly noted,” he says with a laugh as he starts unpacking his things.

Once we’re both somewhat settled, I realize I should probably warn him about the biggest obstacle we’re going to face. “You know, it’s not Wade or his parents you have to worry about,” I say, propping myself up on my elbows.

“Oh?” He glances at me with that annoying smirk again. “Who’s worse than Wade?”

“My grandmother,” I reply seriously. “She’s old school, and when I say old school, I mean she’ll ask you more questions than an FBI interrogation. If we don’t convince her that we’re madly in love, this whole thing will fall apart.”

He pauses, mid-motion, fingers stilling over the zipper of his duffel. Slowly, he lifts his gaze to mine, that maddening glint of amusement flashing in his eyes like he’s already two moves ahead of me. “So,” he says, lips curving into somethingdangerously close to a smirk, “you’re saying I need to charm your grandmother?”

“Exactly,” I reply, arms folded as I lean against the vanity, watching him like I don’t entirely trust him not to turn this into a game. “She’s actually the one pushing hardest for the Wade engagement. If anyone’s a threat to this whole charade, it’s her.”

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