RICH BOY BRIT (A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance)(42)

“So, what’s with you?” she finally asked him.

“What do you mean?” he asked, sipping some water from his glass after answering.

“This. I mean, it’s like you are here, but really not,” she told him. “Did you really want to go to dinner with me, or was that to get Claire’s attention?”

Chance looked at her with shock. “Why would…”

Amy held up her hand to stop him. “Don’t deny it, Chance. You know, I was wondering why you agreed to have dinner with me when we both know you’re not interested in me. I’ve seen the way you look at her. Be honest with me.”

“That obvious, huh?” he asked and tapped the glass on the table. “I’m sure you can imagine a man like me isn’t accustomed to being rejected.”

Amy smiled and swirled the mixer in her glass. “It’s hard for a woman with a broken heart to notice another man, no matter how handsome he is.”

“An ex?” he asked. “I thought she just hated me.”

“No, it isn’t you,” Amy said. “I shouldn’t be saying anything, but this was supposed to be her honeymoon, not a girls’ trip.”

“Her honey…” Chance fell back against the chair and raked his hand through his golden mane. “Fuck! Now I feel like an idiot.”

“You shouldn’t. The day before her wedding she found the asshole with another woman, so trust me, right now, it doesn’t really matter how hot you are, or how nice, or how rich—Claire won’t notice you in the way you want her to.”

But Chance’s mind was already working. Now that he knew what he was dealing with, he could more easily adapt to the situation. He had been blowing in the wind for days, but Amy had given him something to hold on to.

“So, what do you plan to do?” she asked.

“I’m not sure.” He sipped some more water.

“I would advise you not bother her or try to get her to notice you. She has been through enough and doesn’t need her heart broken again. I see the way women look at you, and I’ve seen the way you look back from time to time. She doesn’t need someone like you in her life.”

“You don’t know me, Amy,” he told her.

“I’ve seen enough,” she replied. “I just don’t want to see her get hurt again.”

“Me neither,” Chance said.

“Why do I get the feeling you are not going to leave her alone?” Amy asked as she folded her arms over her chest.

“It’s like a sickness,” he grinned. “I always get what I want. She’s mine.”

“I think this dinner is over,” she said and got up. “Can’t believe I wanted to have dinner with someone so full of himself.”

Chance rose and watched her as she walked away. He should have felt remorseful about making Amy feel bad, but instead, he felt the weight lift from him as he stood there, and suddenly an idea came to him. Claire wasn’t a woman one could wine and dine for a night and forget about the following morning, so smiling and acting the fool would win him no points. He had to be more creative than that, now that he knew she wasn’t stone-hearted after all. He settled the bill, and with a grin on his face made a beeline for the one place he knew would give him something that might bring a smile to her face.

“Hello,” the attendant said as he entered the gift shop. “How may I help you?”

“I’m looking for something special for someone,” he told her. “Something really nice.”

“I see,” she smiled. “Follow me.”

She showed him an assortment of gifts and treats, but none caught his eye; none seemed perfect enough to express what he wanted to say.

“Well, how big is your budget?” she asked him.

“Pretty big,” he told her and grinned. “For her, it’s unlimited.”

“Alright then,” she said as she took him to a section in the back. “This is where we keep our special merchandise for our special clients.”

It didn’t take Chance long to find exactly what he was looking for. He asked her to box it up and make a delivery to room 127.

“She must be a special girl,” the woman commented.

“Very,” he said as he paid for the gift and tipped her handsomely. “Thank you.”

He returned to his room, anxious for the morning when he would see the reaction on her face.





CHAPTER 9


Claire got out of bed, surprised that someone was knocking. She looked over at the clock and saw that it read five minutes after seven. She got up and hurriedly slipped into a robe. “Just a minute,” she called.

When she opened the door, no one was there. She looked down the hallway, but it was empty. She saw the food cart and wondered if someone had left it there by mistake. But her room number was on the card, and though she was suspicious, she wheeled it inside. Maybe her mother had taken the liberty of ordering her breakfast out of concern that she may not be eating properly.

But when she lifted the cover, she saw a large, black box with a velvet exterior. She stood there looking at it for a while before she picked it up and turned it over in her hands. She took a deep breath and opened it. She immediately dropped the box and staggered backwards. Surely someone must have sent the box to the wrong room. With hands covering her mouth and her eyes wide, she ventured closer to the thing once more. She decided to lift the other cover on the cart, and there she saw a note.