Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 68

AMELIA’S heart was still racing when the stranger took two hurried steps backward, palms raised in surrender.

“I’m so sorry,” he said again, voice low and sincere. “I truly apologize. I didn’t mean to break in.”

He turned halfway toward the door as though ready to disappear and give her privacy, but something in his tone— respectful, not arrogant, made her pause.

“Wait,” she said quickly, adjusting the towel tighter around her chest. “Just… stay there. Don’t move.”

He froze obediently, eyes lifting to the ceiling instead of at her. That alone eased her tension.

“I knocked,” he explained gently. “Several times but there was no response. I tried calling the suite from the internal line downstairs, but it kept ringing out. The front desk asked me to come up because it was urgent.”

Amelia blinked.

“Urgent?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She shut the bathroom door halfway behind her and stepped a little further into the room, still cautious but calmer now.

“I’m so sorry,” he continued. “When there was still no answer and I noticed the door wasn’t properly shut, I thought perhaps something was wrong.”

Her eyes widened.

“The door wasn’t locked?” she muttered.

He shook his head slightly.

Amelia groaned and hit her forehead lightly with her palm.

“Oh my goodness. I must have forgotten. I was too busy admiring the decor.”

He allowed himself a small smile at that.

“It is a beautiful suite,” he agreed.

They shared a brief, awkward laugh, the tension dissolving little by little.

Up close now, she noticed him properly.

He was tall. Dark-skinned. Well-built in that effortless way. His uniform was crisp, white shirt tucked neatly into black trousers, sleeves folded slightly to reveal strong forearms. His face was strikingly handsome, sharp jawline, expressive eyes, and a trimmed beard that framed his mouth. On his left ear glittered a sparkling diamond earring.

There was something warm about him.

Professional. But warm.

“My name is Ifeanyi,” he said politely. “I’m one of the senior bartenders downstairs at the Blue Coral Lounge.”

She nodded slowly.

“Amelia.”

“I know,” he said before he could stop himself, then quickly corrected, “I mean, from the check-in records. Of course.”

A flicker of amusement crossed her face.

“So,” she prompted, folding her arms lightly beneath the towel, “what was so urgent that the bartender had to storm my suite?”

He straightened slightly.

“Yes, ma’am. There was an issue with your payment authorization.”

Her brows drew together.

“What issue?”

“The card used to secure the pent suite flagged for international travel confirmation. It went through initially, but the system placed a temporary hold pending verification. Our accounts department tried reaching you through the in-room line and the mobile number provided, but the calls didn’t connect.”

Amelia frowned.

“My phone was on silent.”

“That explains it.”

He continued carefully.

“It is not a cancellation. But if it isn’t resolved within the hour, the system automatically releases the suite back into availability. The manager asked that I personally inform you since you had just checked in.”

She stared at him for a moment.

“So if I had stayed in that shower ten more minutes, I would have come out homeless?”

He smiled faintly.

“Not homeless. Just relocated to a smaller suite.”

She exhaled sharply.

“Unbelievable.”

“If you would like,” he offered gently, “I can wait while you call your bank, or I can have the front desk send a portable authorization device up here so you don’t have to come downstairs.”

She studied him. He was attentive, looked composed and professional.

“You are very thorough for a bartender,” she observed.

“I have worked here for five years,” he replied. “They trust me with certain responsibilities.”

There was quiet pride in his tone.

“And how did you get volunteered for door-breaking duties?” she asked teasingly.

A sheepish smile appeared.

“I insisted. The manager thought it might look inappropriate sending security. I figured I could explain better.”

Her lips curved slightly.

“Thank you.”

“It’s my job.”

There was a brief silence, not uncomfortable, just aware.

She noticed the way he deliberately kept his gaze respectfully above her eye level. Not once had his eyes wandered.

Interesting.

“I will make the call,” she said finally. “Thank you for coming up.”

“Of course.”

He stepped backward toward the door.

God.

Those eyes had studied him like she was assessing a contract, not a stranger in her room. They were sharp, evaluating, and controlled.

He exhaled slowly as he turned the corner toward the elevator.

What is wrong with you?

He barely knew her.

Yet his chest had done something strange the moment she said,

“Stay.”

Not commandingly, not flirtatiously, but just confidently.

He replayed her hitting her forehead lightly when she realized the door was unlocked. That laugh. That ease.

She wasn’t like the women who tried to impress.

She didn’t try at all.

And that… that was what unsettled him.

By the time he reached the staff elevator, a faint smile had found his lips.

Ifeanyi was not a reckless man. He worked hard. Sent money home. Kept his head down. But something about Amelia stirred a protective instinct in him— the kind that made a man want to stand closer, listen harder, watch more carefully.

He shook his head lightly.

‘Professional, Ifeanyi. Stay professional,’ he said to himself.

Still… if she came to the lounge tonight, he knew one thing for certain.

He would notice.

***

Back in the suite, Amelia had just slid the final lock into place when her second phone rang. This one wasn't on silent.

The sharp vibration against the plush duvet startled her.

“Damn it,” she muttered.

She walked toward it, bare feet sinking into the soft carpet. Her damp hair dripped lightly onto her shoulders as she leaned over and picked up the phone.

Ryan.

“Of course,” she murmured.

She hadn’t expected Charles to call first. Not yet. But Ryan? Ryan was predictable. Efficient. Always three steps ahead. No wonder he was her assistant.

Good timing even. She would tell him about the bank issue and it would be fixed in minutes.

Still holding onto the knot of the towel secured across her chest, she swiped to answer, lifting the phone to her ear.

Her expression shifted, composed and alert.

She inhaled slowly.

“Ryan,” she began.