Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 82

EVENING settled over the resort like a silk shawl, soft and deliberate.

For most of the day, Amelia had not stepped outside her suite.

Between answering emails, reviewing proposals, and drifting in and out of sleep, she had existed in a quiet bubble. Lunch had been delivered to her door. Dinner too. She had barely drawn the curtains except to watch the sun dip into the horizon from behind the glass.

It was unlike her.

She was not usually the type to hide.

But today had felt heavy in ways she couldn’t explain.

By the time dinner plates were cleared away, the silence of the room began to press against her. She stood near the window for a long moment, watching the beachfront below, the warm lights along the sand, the soft movement of people, the distant laughter carried by wind.

Maybe she needed air. Maybe she needed something that didn’t involve a screen or a memory.

She walked toward her wardrobe.

After a few seconds of indecision, she pulled out a simple but elegant off-shoulder midi dress in deep emerald green. The fabric was soft and fluid, hugging her frame without clinging too tightly. It stopped just below her knees, revealing smooth calves and a pair of nude strappy heels she slipped on with quiet precision.

She left her hair down this time— long, dark waves cascading freely over her shoulders. A light touch of makeup followed: subtle foundation, a sweep of mascara, a soft nude gloss. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to look effortlessly put together.

She studied her reflection briefly.

It looked casual and unbothered.

Then she picked up a small clutch and headed out.

—

The bar downstairs glowed warmly, amber lights reflecting off polished wood and glass shelves lined with bottles. Soft jazz drifted through the air, an instrumental version of an old classic, familiar yet unintrusive.

Ifeanyi noticed her immediately.

He had been wiping down the counter, but the movement stilled for a fraction of a second when she stepped in.

There was something different about her tonight. Something lighter. Or perhaps simply present.

He walked around the counter, offering his usual composed smile.

“Good evening.”

“Good evening,” she replied, returning the smile.

His eyes swept over her briefly, not in a way that lingered too long, but long enough to appreciate.

“You look… refreshing tonight,” he said smoothly. “That color suits you.”

She tilted her head slightly, amused.

“Refreshing?”

“Yes. Like you decided to let the evening win.”

She laughed softly.

“Is that what it looks like?”

“A little. I hadn’t seen you since morning,” he added casually. “For a brief second, I thought you had traveled back.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“Traveled back?”

“Yes. The suite was too quiet. No movement. No calls downstairs. I thought perhaps you had escaped without telling anyone.”

She laughed again, the sound lighter than it had been all day.

“No. Just buried under work and sleep.”

“Ah,” he nodded knowingly. “The most dangerous combination.”

“And what makes it dangerous?” she asked as she settled onto one of the bar stools.

“You start forgetting what daylight feels like.”

She considered that. “Fair.”

He returned behind the counter.

“What are we having tonight?”

“Surprise me.”

His brows rose slightly.

“That is trust.”

“Then don’t ruin it.”

He chuckled and began preparing something— measured, precise movements. She watched his hands for a moment, then let her gaze wander around the room.

The jazz shifted into something slightly more upbeat.

“That song,” she said, “it reminds me of Paris.”

“Paris?” he asked, pouring the drink into a glass. “You have been?”

“Twice. Once for work. Once just because I needed to disappear.”

He slid the glass toward her.

“And did you?”

“Disappear?”

He nodded.

“For a while,” she said, lifting the glass to her lips. She paused. “This is good.”

“Thank you.”

They fell into an easy rhythm after that.

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