Amaya

To Amaya’s surprise, she was having a great time at Paul’s high school reunion. It wasn’t huge, his graduating class had only been a little over three hundred, but it was a lot of fun. Everybody was friendly and the open bar had certainly helped her relax. So far there had been no sign of Thea, and she was hoping it stayed that way.

Paul doted on her and showed her off to all his old friends while making her feel incredibly loved and cherished. He was clearly proud to have her on his arm and every time he looked at her his entire face would warm in a way that made her tingle from the inside out. Dressed in a dark blue suit with a deep purple tie that matched her sparkling cocktail dress, he looked so good she was having a hard time keeping her hands off of him.

Jeez, she was one sigh away from turning into a simpering idiot, but she couldn’t help it. He’d swept her off her feet with flowers, compliments, lingering kisses, and orgasms. What girl wouldn’t be smiling like she won the lottery? And the sex was out of this world good. So good, she could easily become addicted to Paul—well, more than she already was. Some fear lingered at the thought of being in the public eye, but nobody knew her up here. Except Paul, and he knew her better than almost anyone.

She smiled at the man who’d shoved his way into her life and stayed there, refusing to let her push him away, giving her the time she needed. Proving that he was a gentleman, honorable and always kind with her daughter. The thought of the way he was with Peyton brought an unexpected flush to her cheeks as her entire bodied warmed in a way that must have showed.

They were seated in a small, circular booth with high walls, made of thick mahogany and inlaid with iridescent glass tile. Some neat steam punk meets Mediterranean chandelier hung over their table, turning the red table cloth beneath it an amber shade. Tea lights were scattered around the table, and dance music filled the air. The hall where they were having the reunion was eccentric, but she really liked it. For some reason, this place reminded her of California and she felt a pang of homesickness.

“What’s wrong?”

She took a sip of her strong martini and tried to push her negative thoughts away. “Just thinking about my family.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The heat of the alcohol burning her stomach did nothing to thaw the chill of self-loathing turning her lungs to ice. She hated lying to him, hated having to hide her past, but it was the price she would pay for being with him. It was the price she would pay for Peyton’s right to grow up without the monstrous shadow of her DNA donor looming over her forever. There were still websites devoted to that sick fuck, and it made her crazy to think people worshiped a heartless serial killer. All because Donald had been good looking, and so were his victims. That made for great TV and the public had eaten it up. The man brutally took the lives of thirty-five women—maybe more—and they devoted a damn fan clubs to him because he’d been hot.

A shudder raced through her, and she quickly drained the rest of her drink. Memories of that night, of getting into Donald’s red convertible, tried to invade her mind, but the alcohol did its job. The burn forced the memories away, gave her something else to focus on. When she put her empty glass on the table, Paul cleared his throat. She could feel the concern radiating from him, but she was barely holding her shit together at the moment. Cripes, she hadn’t had a reaction this bad to an unexpected memory in years, and she wondered if she needed to get in touch with a good therapist.

Her worry was interrupted by Paul pulling her from the booth, then dragging her a few feet to the busy dance floor. Couples swayed to the sultry music, and Paul expertly swept her into his arms. It would be easier to resist him if he wasn’t such a good dancer. He led her with ease, and it felt so natural to move in perfect sync with him. They held each other’s gaze the entire time, and the bond she felt grown between them grew stronger with every beat of her heart.

When he leaned down to kiss her, she didn’t stop him. The moment a bright flash burst against her closed eyelids, she pulled back to find a camera crew filming her kiss with Paul. Horrified, she tried to run away, but Paul grabbed her wrist and forced her behind his back. He seemed to swell with anger, but his touch was gentle. She’d heard about him going into full on ‘Bulldog’ with people before, but this was the first time she’d ever seen it firsthand.

Man, he was intense when he was angry.

“Thea,” he spit out. “You’re violating the terms of our divorce right now. I have your lawyer on speed dial, and I’ll earn back another quarter million of my money if you don’t knock this shit off. No filming, no recording, no mention of me, ever.”

All of Amaya’s senses went on high alert as a woman’s surprisingly sweet and girly voice said, “Oh Paul, stop being such a poop. Fine, turn the cameras off. Go get some pictures of the beach or something. Me and my Bulldog are gonna have a talk.”

Even before she laid eyes on the woman, Amaya knew she hated her. This was Thea the ex, the one who’d basically fucked Paul over in the worst way possible. It was because of this skank that Paul went through so much suffering alone. Amaya knew what that was like, and a burst of protective anger burned through her.

When she moved to Paul’s side, then curled her arm around his waist, she tried to hold back her laughter. There wasn’t a doubt that the blonde and leggy Thea was a beautiful woman, but she was also exceptionally tacky. Who wore a micro short jean skirt and a sparkly green half shirt to a reunion? A good deal of her impressive cleavage hung out and Amaya was sure Thea was one deep breath away from a nip-slip. With her hair teased out to her shoulders and wearing a ton of makeup, she looked like she was on her way to a porno shoot.

“Who the hell is she?” Thea seemed to be constantly pouting, something else Amaya found annoying.

“None of your business.” Paul glared at his ex. “Get out of my face, now.”

“But Bulldog,” Thea whined. “I need to get some footage with you. Just a little bit, please?”

“No.”

“Fine.” Thea’s blue eyes snapped to Amaya, then narrowed. “How about I talk to your girlfriend instead?”

Thea snapped her fingers and turned away from them to yell across the room, “Jean, come here. We have a live interview.”

A stylish man with floppy dark hair and a camera began to move their way, holding it in their direction as he walked. The entire room was watching them, but Amaya couldn’t care less. All she could think about was her image appearing on Thea’s blog and someone figuring out who she really was. It wasn’t a rational fear—her surgery guaranteed no one would recognize her—but after five years of staying under the radar, the thought of appearing on a popular blog sent her into a panic.

And what if her stalker somehow saw it? Thea was based out of Miami, and while Amaya had never heard of her before, there was an off chance her stalker might see it. A stinging sweat broke out over her skin, and she gripped Paul’s hand tight.

“Paul,” she whispered, “she can’t film me. What if he sees it?”

Pointing at the approaching man, Paul growled out in his most intimidating voice, “Jean, stay where you are unless you want me to sue your ass off.”

Jean startled but kept his camera pointed at Amaya and Paul while he looked at Thea, who glared at Paul. “Jean works for me. You can’t tell him what to do.”

“Go away, Thea.”

Tossing her blonde hair, Thea lifted her chin. “This is a public restaurant. I have every right to be here.”

“Our divorce—”

Thea cut him off, her upper lip lifted in a snarl showing off perfect white teeth. “Our divorce only covers you, darling, not your bitch of the month.”

Paul stiffened, then leaned down and whispered into Amaya’s ear, “Do you trust me?”

“Yes?”

“Then play along.”

Paul took a step forward and held up his hand to block the camera pointed at them. “My ex failed to tell you that anyone associated with her who films me without my permission is in violation of a court order and massive fines.”

Jean grimaced, then backed away with his hands in the air. “Hey man, I’m sorry about that. I didn’t know.”

Thea scowled at the retreating cameraman, then turned her attention back to Paul, her whole face contorted with a vicious snarl. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Clearing his throat, Paul took Amaya’s hand in his and gave his ex a flat look. “We weren’t planning on announcing it like this, but we’re getting married. As my fiancée, she is totally off limits to you.”

Amaya’s heart skipped a beat or two at his words, but she tried to look happy instead of shocked.

“Are you shitting me?” Thea screeched, obviously loving the attention her meltdown was bringing her. “You’re engaged to her?”

“Yes,” Paul turned away, ignoring her as he smiled down at Amaya. “I love her.”

A handsome black man in a grey suit appeared. “Ms. Harrison, I’m going to have to ask you and your film crew to leave.”

“Fuck you,” she spat out.

Out of nowhere, Dean appeared, dressed in his sheriff uniform. “Thea, it would give me nothing but pleasure to arrest you. Now, you and your people have been asked to leave. The proprietor has the right to refuse you service.”

An older woman with a stern frown came up behind Thea, then whispered something in her ear. Thea snarled and glared at Amaya. She glared right back, unable to believe Paul had been married to such a bitchy woman for years. He was so nice, and Thea was just...she was awful.

“He’s going to cheat on you just like he cheated on me. Hell, I bet he has already,” Thea said with a mean smirk as the older woman practically dragged her away. “Better get yourself tested. Who knows what kind of STDs he might have given you.”

“That’s it,” Paul growled, “I’ll see you in court.”

Before Thea could respond, she was shoved out the front door of the reception hall, and Amaya’s attention was diverted by Paul sweeping her into his arms. He lifted her so her toes barely touched the floor, then pressed his lips to hers in a deep, soulful kiss. She responded by wrapping her hands around his thick neck, and scraping her nails gently against his scalp. Lord that man could kiss, and every inch of her body tingled in response to his touch. Cheers filled the hall as she finally managed to drag her lips away from his.

Looking up at the watching crowd, he grinned and pulled her even tighter against him. “Thank you, everyone. I know lots of guys say this, but trust me- I’m the luckiest man in the world to have a woman like Amaya agree to be my wife. Now, I know a lot of you want to come give us congratulations-I’m lookin’ at you Aunt Nancy, but I ask that you wait until tomorrow. We just got engaged and I want to spend the rest of the night with my fiancé.”

Cat calls and whistles filled the air, making Amaya blush and hide her face behind her hands. Paul pulled her into his chest, his arms wrapping around her and making her feel safe. His deep chuckle cut through the noise, and a thrill of warmth ran through her as he kissed the top of her head. The cheering died down and when she peeked out, some people were still watching them, but they kept a respectful distance.

Paul smiled down at her, so happy it made her chest ache and tears fill her eyes. He loved her, it was there for everyone to see. She cupped his solid jaw and rubbed her thumb over his cheek, loving the feel of his slight stubble.

Leaning down, he whispered into her ear, “What do you say we get out of here and have desert at home?”

“Perfect.”