“Redeye,” he corrects me.
“On a whim,” I add, “so that you could crash my wedding and kidnap me, and we aren’t even going home?”
Asher comes to a stop sign and looks at me for the first time since we got in the car. “I just flew almost six hours to get here after going through hell in airport security then drove another hour to the resort where I got into a Spanglish argument with a concierge who refused to tell me where the wedding was being held, while some kid kept trying to take my luggage–”
“All so you could ruin my wedding,” I finish the sentence for him.
“All so I could save you from marrying a man who…” he bites his lips.
“A man whowhat?” I ask, and the car behind us honks. Asher glances in the rearview mirror, then starts driving again. “A man whowhat, Ash?”
Asher just shakes his head and says, “He isn’t right for you. It would have been a mistake.” His tone is flat. Allusive. Annoying.
“Exactly what makes you the authority on that?” I ask as he pulls over and puts the car in park.
“You’re just going to have to trust me on that.” Asher gets out of the car and closes the door right in the middle of my reply.
“Ugh!” I scream, pushing the door open and stomping over to him. For a moment, I was so mad I forgot I was in a weddingdress. It’s not an elaborate, poofy dress with a long train, but it’s still a pain in the ass to walk in. “What are you doing?” I snap.
“Getting our luggage out. Unless you want to wear that all night,” he says. I look down and, sure enough, he has my suitcase.
“Where did you get that?”
“I messaged the hotel when I landed and told them to bring it out of your room.”
I blink, shaking my head in slow disbelief. “You planned all of this?”
“More or less,” he says. “Now come inside.”
Asher grabs both our bags and heads up the brick path leading to the villa. Jungle plants and radiant flowers surround us as we walk to the villa. When I step inside, my jaw drops as I take in all the lush details. It’s modern and luxurious with wood cabinetry, sleek countertops, a hand-painted backsplash, and leather furniture. The kitchen is bright and open, stocked with fresh fruit, assorted breads, and cookies. There is even a cocktail bar and an espresso machine. My eyes linger on the bar for a moment.
“The bathroom is over here,” he gestures, “with a rainfall shower and Jacuzzi tub,” Asher trails off as he opens the French doors, stepping outside. I follow him, unsure what else to do. There’s a pool overlooking the beach. The patio has chairs, a hot tub, and even a sauna. There’s also a built-in grill. It’s just about as fancy as the resort he kidnapped me from.
“The bedroom opens up to the pool area,” he says as he opens another set of sliding doors. The wall of the room is glass, opening the room completely up to the view. We stand halfway in and halfway out of the bedroom.
“There you go,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets and rattling the car keys. “Mi casa es tu casa.”
“Solo una cama,” I respond, and his brow furrows. I smirk and say, “Someone didn’t brush up on their Spanish during the flight. It means only one bed. You got a rental with only one bed.”
He frowns and actually looks hurt, making me regret my words for a moment. Until I remind myself that he literally just removed me by force from the altar.
“Sorry, Princess. I didn’t know you required a castle.” He says.
“What I require,” I say as I march back into the living room where our luggage is sitting. “Is my phone. What I require is an explanation from you on why you did this so that when I call Daniel, I can explain to him what possessed you to ruin our wedding day! And don’t use the excuse that he is your business rival. I don’t care who has the better crab cakes and filet mignon.”
I grab my purse off the top of my suitcase and pull out my phone. When I see that there are no missed calls, my heart dips in my chest a little. He didn’t even text? Still, I dial Daniel’s number and hit send. It rings and rings until finally going to voicemail.
Well, that’s odd. I think.
I pull the phone away from my face and end the call, then redial. Same thing.
“Trouble in paradise?” Asher asks nonchalantly while biting into some exotic fruit I’ve never seen before.
“He must’ve lost his phone,” I stutter, feeling both worried and embarrassed.
“Well, while you settle in, I’m going to take a shower,” he says as he walks toward the bathroom. Before he closes the door, he stops and says, “Also, we are eight miles from town and three miles from the nearest neighboring villa. When they say secluded, they really mean secluded.”
Asher closes the door, and my jaw drops.
