He catches me, chuckling, and says, "I'm happy to see you too."
"God, I missed you so much."
I kiss him like we haven't seen each other in months, not caring one bit who sees us making out in the lobby. Chance keeps one arm around me while we get in the elevator and head up to the nineteenth floor. He kisses me even more passionately in the elevator, since there's no one around, and I wish he'd take me like he did that first night. He doesn't---at least, not until we get inside his room.
We've barely spoken to each other, but I'm so happy to be with him again that I don't care. Who needs words? Our bodies say everything that matters.
After sex, we lie naked on the bed with no covers over us, entangled in each other's arms.
"How was your trip?" I ask.
"It was good to see my family." He nuzzles my hair. "But I missed you."
"Raisa kept me busy all weekend." I lift my head off his chest to look at him. "I think she knows about us."
"I think so too."
"That means tomorrow is doomsday."
He cups my chin, his blue eyes intent on mine. "Everything will be fine, you'll see."
"You're awfully confident about that. Did you talk to Raisa already?"
"No." He rolls over so I'm under him. "Let's not talk about my ex-wife anymore. There will be plenty of time for that tomorrow. Tonight, I want to make up for lost time, two days' worth of not shagging you."
We make up for lots of missed shagging, and I fall asleep in his arms.
The banging of a fist on the door wakes us both at six a.m.
Chance yanks on a pair of pants, the ones he ditched last night when we both rushed to get naked, and jogs out of the bedroom to answer the door.
I get dressed in a hurry and find Chance in the living room, an envelope crushed in his fist and a paper in his hand. He glances up from reading the paper.
"She's off her rocker," he says. "The bloody woman has completely lost her mind."
"What's happened?"
He looks at the paper again and shakes his head. "The law firm of Raisa Volkov & Associates is no longer paying for my suite, and I'm to vacate the premises immediately. You and I are both to report to Raisa's office at eight o'clock."
"What? Shit." I spin around, searching for my purse. Where did I leave it? "I have to go home and change, which means I'll be late."
Chance crumples the paper and hurls it across the room. "Stop, Elena. She knows damn well you're here. Don't know how, but she knows. Go down to the hotel boutique and buy something, damn the price tag. I'll dress and pack and meet you there to pay for it."
I do what he says, because I have no frigging idea what else to do. The woman I'd been enslaved to all weekend, even felt sorry for, is sharpening her ax and taking practice swings with it.
By the time I find a skirt suit that fits and doesn't look as outrageously expensive as it is, Chance strides into the boutique and offers up his credit card to pay for it. I get dressed in the fitting room. We say nothing to each other, but his thunderous expression tells me he is not pleased with Raisa.
The hotel concierge, who seems to know Raisa and not like her very much, offers to have Chance's bags sent to my apartment.
We walk into the offices of Raisa Volkov & Associates together.
All eyes gravitate to us. Everyone comes out to watch us go into Raisa's office, even the attorneys who usually stay in their offices with their doors shut.
Chance shuts the door.
He and I take the chairs in front of Raisa's desk.
She sits in her leather executive chair, spine straight and shoulders back, gazing at us with regal assurance.
My mouth has gone dry. My eyes burn because I've stopped blinking.
Raisa folds her hands on the desktop. "You are both fired."
Chance makes a derisive noise. "Come off it, Raisa. You always overreact when you're angry. Once you've calmed down---"
"I am calm, Chance." She nails him with her frigid glare, the one everybody says she reserves for clients who've lied to her. "You've been screwing my paralegal and haven't informed me of your relationship. That's a violation of the firm's policy on dating."
"That's bollocks, and you know it," Chance says. "The policy states employees have thirty days to report their relationship to you."
Raisa rises from her chair, towering over us where we sit. "I said you are fired. And you can be certain"---she swerves her frigid glare to me---"that you won't receive a letter of recommendation from me. In fact, I'll make sure every firm in the city knows about the gold-digging paralegal who stole my husband."
Chance flies out of his chair. "Elena didn't steal me. You destroyed our marriage years ago, and I should've left you then. I tried to make it work, but you couldn't stop fucking other men, could you? I'm finally happy, and you can't stand it."
Raisa remains unruffled, gazing at him like he's one of the plebs and not her ex-husband. "Don't you want to know how I found out about your treachery?"
Chance looks about to explode, so I get up and place myself between the two of them.
"How did you find out?" I ask, though it hardly matters now.
She lifts her nose. "Sheri Ann at the boutique told me you two had been there and looked very cozy. I didn't want to believe it, but then Chance delayed his flight to England so he could leave after work. He hates to take evening flights, what with the five-hour time difference. Still, I wasn't sure until I asked you to deliver those papers to me after hours, and you claimed to have plans."
Chance comes up beside me, scowling at Raisa. "You wouldn't have evicted me from the hotel unless you had ironclad proof."
"I do." She picks up a manila envelope that was lying on her desk and hands it to him. "Did you really think I wouldn't have a contact at the hotel? Desk clerks are woefully underpaid and easy to tempt with a few hundred dollars."
Chance opens the envelope and slides out the contents. It's a single sheet of paper. When he flips it over, I see the paper is a photograph that was clearly produced on a desktop printer, like the one sitting on a table behind Raisa.
The photo is of us. Me and Chance. In the hotel lobby. Kissing passionately.
Raisa points at the door. "Get out. Both of you. Any personal effects you've left here will be sent to you."
Did her voice quiver the teeniest bit? I search her face and realize her lips are trembling too, barely enough to notice. When I glance at the trash can beside her desk, I see a bunch of balled-up tissues inside it.
Maybe her anger is an act, or a cover for the fact she finally understands Chance will never take her back. I hope that's the case, because if it is, she might get over the initial shock and decide not to ruin our lives after all.
Chance stares at her for a moment, then tosses the photo onto her desk, takes my hand, and leads me out of the building. I tell him he can stay at my apartment for as long as he needs, but he says he has "things to take care of" and leaves as soon as he's dropped me off at my place. His bags are waiting by the kitchen bar. The hotel must have sent them over right after we left the suite, and Kyle must've accepted the delivery.