“He’s right,” Rosália demanded, her voice dropping to a terrifying, icy whisper that echoed in the quiet hall.
Her gaze dropped from his eyes, slowly and deliberately scanning his disheveled appearance. She looked at his damp, messy hair. She looked at the collar of his dress shirt, whichKatherine had hastily and incorrectly buttoned in the dark of the fourth-floor room.
“Where the hell haveyoubeen, David?” Rosália asked, her voice dangerously quiet. “I woke up and you were gone. You weren’t in the room.”
David swallowed hard, the taste of complete, metallic panic flooding his mouth. He was entirely cornered. The rage evaporated, leaving only a frantic, scrambling terror.
“I...” David stammered, his mind racing desperately, blindly searching for an alibi. The lie tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could filter the absurdity of it. “Insomnia. I couldn’t sleep either. I went down to the gym to work off some energy.”
Rosália stared at him. Her eyes traced the damp ends of his hair again. She let out a short, hollow laugh that held absolutely no humor. David’s stomach plummeted into a bottomless freefall. He opened his mouth, but he had absolutely nothing. There was no defense.
“Let’s go back to the room, David,” Rosália ordered, her tone carrying an absolute, dismissive finality.
She turned her back to him, entirely turning her back on their marriage. She offered Sean a soft, incredibly genuine nod of thanks, her eyes lingering on the older man for just a fraction of a second, before marching down the hallway toward their suite.
David stood completely frozen for a long, agonizing second. He looked back at Sean.
The billionaire was still standing there, watching him with that same dark, knowing, devastating smirk.
David turned and hurried after his wife, stepping into the heavy, suffocating silence of their suite, entirely unable to shake the horrifying, terrifying suspicion that he wasn’t the one playing the game anymore.
He was the one being hunted.
Chapter 12
Sean
The morning air rolling off the coast was crisp, carrying the sharp, clean scent of salt and pine.
Sean stood in the private, valet-sectioned parking lot of theGrand Solstice, the collar of his dark wool coat turned up against the chill. He leaned casually against the side of his sleek, black Rolls-Royce Cullinan, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He was a man accustomed to waiting for no one, yet he had been standing by the car for twenty minutes, his eyes fixed intently on the sliding glass doors of the hotel lobby, practically counting the seconds.
When the doors finally parted, the breath caught in Sean’s throat.
Rosália stepped out into the morning sunlight. She had completely stripped away the untouchable, high-society armor of the red silk gown. Instead, she was wearing a pair of dark, perfectly fitted denim jeans that hugged the curve of her hips, tucked seamlessly into knee-high, rich brown leather boots. A thick, cream-colored knit sweater hung off her frame, looking incredibly soft and effortless. Her dark hair was loose, tumbling in soft waves over her shoulders, and her face was practically bare of makeup, saving for a subtle flush of pink on her cheeks from the cold wind.
Sean was completely, helplessly fascinated. He absorbed every single detail of her as she walked toward him, absolutely captivated by the raw, unpolished beauty of the woman. The red dress had made her look like a queen, but this—this soft, grounded, everyday version of her—made his chest ache with a fierce, possessive longing.
As she closed the distance between them, her eyes found his, and a bright, stunning smile broke across her face.
Sean pulled his hands from his pockets. He didn’t offer a polite handshake. He stepped fully into her space, his large hand gently cupping her shoulder, and leaned down to press a warm, lingering kiss against the soft skin of her cheek. He breathed in the intoxicating scent of vanilla and jasmine that he had been agonizing over all night.
“Good morning,” Sean murmured, his deep voice a soft rumble against her skin. He pulled back just enough to look into her dark eyes. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like an angel,” Rosália replied smoothly, the corners of her eyes crinkling with shared, wicked amusement.
Sean offered a dark, knowing smirk. “And how is David this morning?”
Rosália sighed, shaking her head in mock sympathy. “Oh, it’s terrible. The poor thing has been locked in the en-suite bathroom. He has already gone at least five times since the sun came up. He looks absolutely green. And how is Katherine holding up?”
Sean chuckled, a low, entirely unapologetic sound. “About the same. When I left the suite, she was sprinting for themarble toilet for the sixth time. Poor thing. Whatever could have happened to her fragile stomach?”
Rosália let out a bright, genuine laugh that echoed in the quiet parking lot. “It’s so funny. Did they happen to drink the exact same juice at breakfast?”
“It must have been something they consumed,” Sean agreed smoothly, his eyes flashing with dark amusement.
He didn’t mention the crisp hundred-dollar bills he had handed the night manager to ensure a very specific, heavily concentrated, fast-acting liquid laxative was slipped into their morning juice. It was a petty, undignified punishment, but as Sean looked down at Rosália’s brilliant smile, a cold, hard thought echoed in his mind.Two days of violent nausea is absolutely nothing compared to the psychological torture they inflicted on us for months.“Come,” Sean said, opening the heavy passenger door of the Range Rover for her. “I want to take you to a special place today.”
Rosália paused, her hand resting on the leather door frame. She looked up at him, a flicker of confusion crossing her beautiful features. “Wait, aren’t we going on the winery tour with the rest of the hotel guests? David was so upset he couldn’t make the bus.”
