Page 88 of The Bad Wedding Date

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It was late afternoon by the time we’d showered, eaten room service, and got her things together to leave. I was acting like a fucking schoolboy around her, unable to get enough.

With no one there to judge her, Charlotte became free, even when trapped within four walls. Her hair, wavy from the way it had dried, hung loosely over her shoulders. She roamed around the place barefoot, wearing nothing but a white robe as she snacked on food from the minibar—but only after I’d assured her that she could take whatever she wanted.

She did most of the talking, pouring free her frustrations with her family, especially her mother. And when I’d asked her why she hated being called Lottie, a name I’d always thought to be cute, her face had fallen as she looked at me and said, “Because Lottie Grant sounds too much like Laurie Grant, and I never want to be associated or confused for a woman like her.”

It had been all I’d needed to hear. The conversation ended there before she’d moved on to talk about her love for her job and her friendship with Jonah.

Thankfully, my poker face had always been one of my strengths, and so I listened to her, pretending I knew nothing about the guy or where he currently was. Not even when she tried to phone him in front of me only to get no answer, and she looked up into my eyes with a smile and said, “He’s probably mad at the way I talked to him when I was angry. I’ll shoot him a text instead. Butter him up.”

A rare feeling of guilt ate away at me, even when Jonah replied to her, saying that everything was fine, he had a few busy days ahead of him, and he’d call her by the weekend.

Thank fuck the guy had taken the deal.

Either that or Wade and Ray were still manning his calls and messages to make sure he complied.

By the time it came for her to go to work again, I’d tried to talk her into taking a few days holiday over a dozen times, only for her to roll her eyes at me and tell me that full-time employment didn’t work like that. She had commitments to fill. Obligations to honour. People to tend to.

“You sure I can’t convince you to stay?” I asked as I led her down through the foyer of the hotel with her bag in one hand, my fingers curled around hers with the other.

“Look,” she said, stopping by the front desk, taking my hand in hers and bringing it up in front of her as she held my gaze. “I’m going to be sensible here, even though it goes against everything I want to do.”

“Go on.” I scowled.

“This has all been pretty intense so far, hasn’t it? Why don’t you take a few days to clear your head? Get some space from me.”

“You want space?”

“Actually, I’d love nothing more than to go back to that pool. That room.”

The silentbutlingered between us.

That look of uncertainty she’d worn throughout the entire wedding was back. “You don’t owe me anything, especially not my safety. I don’t want you to think that you have to look after me or be there for me when you have a life to live that I’m not a part of, and—”

My lips met hers before she could finish, cutting her off as I led her into a kiss so deep and full of intent, I could have dropped her bag on the floor and taken her right there in front of everyone.

When I eventually pulled back, she blinked up at me wildly, her lashes fluttering, and her lips parted as she stumbled forward on shaky legs.

“I stopped doing things I didn’t want to do a long time ago. I’ll pick you up from work and see you home safely,” I told her. “What happens each night and each day is up to you, but I’m going to be there. Both to keep you out of a mess I threw you into and because I really fucking want to see you.”

29

Charlotte

I’d always considered myself strong, but even I only had so much resistance in me, so I’d gone to work again later that night at his say so and kept my eye on the families that visited, making sure Penn or anyone suspicious didn’t walk through the door.

I kept reassuring Fraser that they wouldn’t come for me—there was nothing I could give them—but he wouldn’t listen, insisting that I didn’t know the real world or that I had no idea what a scorned man with an ego the size of Matteo’s could do, if it were, in fact, his security men that Penn had apparently heard talking.

Fraser picked me up on Tuesday night after work and took me back to the same hotel.

The same thing happened on Wednesday.

Thursday, too.

And by the time Friday arrived, almost a full week after the wedding, I’d spent seven days in a Fraser Scott-induced paradise filled with swimming, sex, and endless kisses. With each day that passed, it felt like I’d known him another year longer. We talked about most things on a surface level after our first night in the hotel. No more talk of family woes, little rich-girl problems, or whether I’d be safe from the very people who wanted to track Fraser down and repay him for what he’d done to Matteo. In that hotel, we became two people escaping reality without physically running away.

The connection between us felt so very real. Each caress upon my skin set me alight, each kiss like standing on the edge of orgasm without him having to touch me anywhere else. Each manly groan he made when beside or inside me made me feel like a real woman. And above all else, despite everything that had happened in our short time together, I’d never felt safer than when lying in Fraser Scott’s arms. He had a brute strength that made him seem invincible while somehow having the deepest heart and most caring tone of a man I’d ever come across, each word he spoke was sincere, never wasting time on words he didn’t mean.

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