I nod. “I did.”
“Please, come in.” Javier opens the door further so I can walk through, then shuts it behind me.
Stepping further into his suite, I cross my arms over my chest as I turn to face him. “How the hell did we get married and I don’t remember it?” My voice is strained, which surprises me. I can’t even pretend to mask the unease.
The lights are low, only the lamp on the bedside table illuminating the space, casting an eerie glow in the room. Not answering, he takes a seat at the small table by the window. The curtains are open, highlighting the beautiful view he has over the city, the bright lights shimmering as the skyline darkens.
“We had a lot to drink,” he states plainly, as if he’s already explained this to me a thousand times. “If it comforts you, even I do not remember. Felipe helped me put the pieces together after I came across the acte de mariage. It was nearly under the sofa in the hotel room.”
Bringing my fingers to my temples, I rub the impending headache away. How the hell did we have time to get a marriage certificate?
“I know what I proposed was a lot to take in, but I only need your assistance for a short time. I wouldn’t be asking you for such a large favor if it wasn’t important.”
My eyes snap to his and I can’t help the anger that seethes within me, instantly heating my blood. “You’re holding a divorce over my head, Javier. Somehow, we made a mistake that night. All I want is for it to go away, and instead of agreeing, you’re trying to convince me to stay married to you so you can parade me in front of your family. How is that fair?”
“Trust me, if I could find a way out of this, I would. You coming to Spain is the only option. I need you, Raina. My family will never forgive me if they find out the truth about us.”
“The truth that we had one stupidly drunk night together? I’m a stranger to you, Javier. You’re a stranger to me.”
“A stranger to whom you are married, and now I’m asking you—begging you—to pretend to be my wife. Only for a short time.”
“I can’t,” I stress, tossing my hands into the air as I begin to pace in his hotel room. My thoughts are running away with me so fast, I struggle to maintain a coherent thought. Once again, I’m fighting back tears, which infuriates me. This man doesn’t deserve my tears.
“Why not?” He runs a frustrated hand through his dark hair, tousling it.
“I have a life here, Javier. Responsibilities.”
I can’t believe I’m arguing with this man right now. The look on his face tells me he’s about to say more, and I know I need to be more convincing as to why I can’t. The Raina he met in Paris was an intern without a care in the world. Free to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, with whomever she wanted.
But that isn’t me anymore. Not to the degree he experienced.
“I’m…”Think quickly, Raina. Time is of the essence. “I’m engaged.”
You. Fucking. Fool.
“Engaged?” Javier practically roars. “How can you be engaged when you are married to me?”
An exasperated squeal leaves my lips. Something between a scream and a whimper. “I didn’t know I was married to you, Javier. How would I have known that? You’ve hidden that information from me up until now.”
“Well, tell him you have a duty to fulf?—”
“I don’t owe you anything!” I scream. “You and I had one drunken night in a sparkling city, where I assume we fucked each other's brains out, and apparently made some idiotic agreement that ended in a marriage.”
Javier swipes his palm down his face, looking as exasperated as I feel. “You felt what I felt that night. I know you did.”
My heart leaps with guilt at the sudden change in his tone and demeanor. The look of loneliness in his eyes is one I recognize, but I can’t stand here and lie to him, pretend like I feel something, because I don’t. Even though his desolation matches my own. But I don't want to hurt him, either. “What we felt that night was an explosive combination of lust and intoxication. It was never going to be more than one crazy night in Paris.” I shake my head. “I can’t come with you back to Spain. My life is here.” An intrusive somersault attacks my stomach. “I’m in love, and I have a fiancé.”
Javier assesses me with scrutiny. He’s looking for the crack in my story—the fault line.
He won’t find it. I’ve been lying to men since I was old enough to speak. Hazards of the Upper East Side.
“Then where is your ring?”
“At the jeweler being resized,” I volley immediately. “Look, I’m sorry that I can’t help you, but please, let’s just make this easy for the both of us and get a quickie divorce. You can go backhome and find a woman who loves you, Javier. She can be your wife. Not me.”
“No.” His accent weaves around the simple word with an air of finality. It leaves no room for negotiation, nor does the dark look in his eye.
Taking a step forward, he grabs my wrist and hurls my body toward him, catching my arms as I stumble into his chest. Bringing his hand to my face, he trails the back of his fingers down my cheek before using them to tilt my chin upward. It’s uncomfortably intimate. I don’t want this man. I have no interest in his lips on mine, yet I can’t bring myself to step out of his arms.
