Bad Boy SEALs

by Scarlett Avery

  Amelia’s slender body is clad in a long shimmery white dress with a plunging neckline that draws the eye to a beautiful diamond brooch sitting at the bottom of the V. On a woman with larger breasts, that dress would look indecent. On her it looks like it was cut right off her body.

  "Down boy," Holden chuckles.

  "What?”

  "You do realize this is an impossible situation for us?" he points out.

  I look up at him. "Are you referring to her status?"

  "That, her bodyguards and the fact that her father just has to snap his fingers for us to disappear without a trace," Holden jokes.

  "I still think she's worth it," I declare before turning to face him. "Here’s the thing, I don't think it's a one-sided street.”

  “In what sense?”

  “From the sparkle in her eyes when we were talking before dinner and the glances she was shooting our way throughout dinner, I’d say she welcomes the attention."

  "That may be the case, but it doesn't change the facts." Holden flips back to being cautious. It’s unlike him.

  "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little challenge, Viking?"

  "May I remind you that we’re both interested in her?"

  I shrug. “So?"

  "One of us is a lot to handle. Two? That might be overkill. It might be a gross assumption, but I doubt she’s ever been down that road,” he whispers.

  “And you’re going to make that decision for her?” I’m not buying his bullshit. “What's really eating at you, Holden?”

  “She’s out of our league. Let me rephrase that. She’s way out of our league. It’s like we’re at opposite sides of the spectrum, Royal,” Holden pauses. I’ve never seen this side of him before. “She’s smart, elegant, funny, sophisticated and if that title in front of her father’s name is any indication, our little princess is blue blood.”

  "What’s that you said earlier about people who are born with a silver spoon in their mouths and their bladders? I’d like to think that our little princess does all of those things with an insane amount of charm," I volley.

  Holden shoots me a side-glance. “I'm sure she's used to guys who also have prefixes to their names,” he says.

  "So, a few billion is nothing compared to a noble lineage, but it's nothing to sneeze at."

  “We’re just two guys who came into big money yesterday, Royal. That might not be enough for a woman like her,” he quips.

  My face drops. “I never thought I’d see the day. Is this the Holden I know? The Chief Commander I served under for God knows how many deployments. The guy who eats filthy festering terrorists for breakfast without batting an eyelash? Nah. I refuse to believe it.” His nostrils flare. "I don't know who you are, but you're not my fearless best friend,” I shake my head. Holden stubbornly sticks his free hand into his pocket. “You’ve always said we’d never let where we come from limit us. And now you’re using that as an excuse to prevent us from going after an amazing woman?" I pause to let the words sink in. "We’ve served our country, we’re smart and we both have university degrees. We're doing okay at this business thing. I'd like to think that even with our facial scars, we’re still pleasing to the eye.” Holden’s gaze is fixated in front of him, avoiding my inquisitive stare. When he still remains silent, I push the envelope further. "Where the hell does all this self-doubt come from, Holden?”

  “I don’t think this girl is a one-night stand fuck,” he says in a low voice.

  “I agree.”

  “That’s all we know,” he retorts. "Has either of us been with a woman more than two, maybe three times? And by that I mean us thrusting in and out of her for a few hours before sending her on her way."

  “I won’t argue, but no one says it’s etched in stone,” I offer.

  Holden furrows his brow. “What does that mean?”

  “We’re living in a new city. Maybe it’s time for us to try something different,” I suggest.

  “Like what?” he asks cautiously.

  “It’s not as if we’re going to marry or even date this girl,” I pause. “God, we’re not suffering from the same disease as Duke and Martin,” I grimace. Holden chuckles. “So maybe this won’t be a fuck ’em and leave ’em scenario. Why don’t we just go with it? Maybe we’ll see her three times. Maybe it’ll be a week? Two, if things go well. Who knows? She’ll be so delicious, we’ll share her for a month. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Holden stares at me from the side. His body is stiff and untrusting. He’s rarely like that around me. “You’re ready to go down that road?”

  I nod. “Is it absolutely crazy since we’ve known this woman no longer than a New York minute and here I am willing to change my ways?” I pause. “Probably.”

  “We’re biting off more than we can chew with her.”

  I bring out the big guns. “You don’t have to pursue this, but there's no way in hell I'm leaving here tonight without having a way to reach her.” That gets his attention. “Since I have no intentions on breaking the no-phone-slash-photo policy, because we’ve had enough dealings with law enforcement to last us a lifetime, I'll gladly have her pen her number across my cheek. I want to see her again. With or without you.” Am I playing fair? Nope, but I know how this guy ticks.

  Holden’s eyes shift slowly to the dance floor where Amelia is no longer dancing with her father. He's processing everything. “The first step is to cut in on that old guy she’s dancing with.”

  I smile wide, excited by his change of heart. “Yeah, then I suggest we take her out to the gardens. At least out there, we can talk and get to know her better. More importantly, we can get her number.”

  “Her bodyguards will be trailing us.”

  “I don’t mind. As long as it’s a more private setting than this.”

  “Makes sense,” he nods. “Since I have two left feet, I’ll let you go for it,” Holden laughs.

  “Let’s do this,” I say.

  We drop our empty tumblers on the tray of a passing waiter. We straighten our tuxedo jackets and take a step forward ready to claim Amelia as ours when the mention of our names freezes us in place.

  "Chief Petty Officer Barclay. Petty Officer Buckingham."

  Fuck.

  CHAPTER 13

  Amelia

  Ralph Delaware leads me a little further into the crowd. The move forces Officer Malone and Officer Keenan to step away from the wall they were standing in front of. Ralph offers me a warm smile, but that does little to comfort me. Something about this guy doesn’t sit well with me. I’ve never seen my father react like that around anyone unless it’s an adversary or someone out to get him. That can’t possibly be the case for Ralph. Why would my father invite a guy who fosters ill intentions towards him to one of his events? That defies logic.

  Ralph winks at me as he takes me in his arms and we begin to dance. I guess he senses my uneasiness around him. For the first few minutes we’re so focused on dancing and maintaining our fake smiles that we don’t exchange a word. I note to my great surprise that Ralph can hold his own on the dance floor. For a second I think that maybe I misread the situation. I even start to relax. As the band changes to a new tune, Ralph beckons my attention.

  “I know I said before, but it bears repeating. You're a stunning young woman."

  “Thank you,” I answer cautiously.

  “Your father has done a remarkable job.”

  “I'm very lucky. He's been a remarkable father," I acknowledge.

  "Hmmm, I'm sure. I have no doubt that Audrey would've been very proud of you.” The familiarity with which he speaks my mother's name has my back up again. "I have no doubt she’s smiling down on you from up above." That last part really irks me.

  "You knew my mother?" I ask.

  "I knew her very well. In fact, I knew her since she was a very young woman. I fell head over heels in love with her when I saw her for the first time. She was sixteen years old. I always thought I'd end up marrying her, but my father had other plans for me.
I was thirty-two at the time.” That was twice Mum’s age. Pervert. “My father sent me to Australia to oversee his affairs there and I missed my chance. My absence on British soil was to your father’s advantage. It was enough time for your mother to grow up into a beautiful young woman and for him to steal her away from me.” This guy is missing a screw... or ten.

  I lift my chin defiantly. “Did my mother love you?”

  “She didn’t get a chance to get to know me.”

  Too bad for you. "Then Daddy didn’t steal her. She fell in love with the one she was supposed to be with,” I say.

  “Ah, the great Lord Victor Cavendish can do no wrong—not in front of his daughter or the nation that adores him so,” he smirks. My God, this man is so envious.

  “My father was born to lead this country.” I do little to hide my indignation.

  “That’s because I was stuck in Australia for a bloody decade. I too had political aspirations.” He's delusional. “It could've been me at the helm of our great nation.” But it’s not, idiot.

  A very pregnant woman wobbling not far from where we’re dancing pulls my attention away from Ralph Delaware. She stops mid-stride, right in front of Officer Malone and Officer Keenan. She brings the back of her hand to her forehead and the other to her rounded belly. The next thing I know, the woman turns as white as a ghost, her eyes glaze over before rolling back into her head, and then her whole body goes limp. She faints right in front of our very eyes. Oh, my God. My officers lunge into action catching her before she hits the floor. Since the music is much louder now, I can’t make out the words, but I see my officers’ lips mouth, “Madam, are you okay?” I try to let go of Ralph’s hands to break our dance so I can go to this poor woman’s help, but instead he grips my waist tighter and twirls me further into the crowd.

  I open my mouth to protest, but he says, “I’m sure it’s nothing. You’re officers can handle it. That's what they’re paid for."

  "They aren’t paid to be paramedics," I object.

  "They're paid to be whatever the Prime Minister needs them to be. And right now that's it. Stop worrying your pretty little head over it."

  There are no words to describe how arrogant this man is. I want to throw my education out the door and tell this guy off.

  "My useless cow of an ex-wife, Pearl, fainted all the time when she was expecting our first child.” What? “It’s normal.” I shoot him a mistrusting glance. “I know what I’m talking about. You don't have children yet, how would you know?” he adds.

  I don't bother answering. Since the band is on the opposite side of the room, they continue to play, oblivious to what’s taking place. Ralph continues to lead the dance. “You must be twenty-five. Am I right?" Ralph changes subject. His frozen smile returns.

  "Yes." I look in the direction of my officers. They’re still hovering over the pregnant woman and doing their best to revive her. I really hope she's okay. Where’s Daddy?

  "I have two sons around your age—Edmund who’s twenty-eight and Everett who’s twenty-six.”

  “I don't think I've ever had the pleasure of meeting them," I reply, mustering every ounce of politeness I have.

  "I doubt they'd be very memorable." Okay. "If they weren’t such weak and spineless men, I’d introduce you to them.” What an awful human being. “A woman like you deserves a man who can take care of her in the manner she’s accustomed to. My two sons would fail you. I can’t tell you how much of a disappointment they are to me, but I’m stuck with them." I can certainly see why my father is so cold towards this guy. "I, on the other hand, could be a good husband to you, Amelia.” What did he just say?

  "I'm not looking for a husband," I dispute. I crane my neck, looking for my father in the crowd. Shit. I can't see him anywhere.

  "I suspect it’s because we've only just met, but I think we'd be a perfect match."

  "So, because you weren’t able to marry my mother, you automatically assume I'm up for grabs?" Maybe Brandon and Holden aren't too far. I turn my head left to right, but I can't see them.

  "Not at all. I know I have what it takes to make you happy. You will never want for anything." He's so full of himself.

  My frustration mounts. "Mr. Delaware, you know nothing about me," I say. "Not to mention, I don't date older men." I hope my snippy comment shuts him down.

  Without warning, Ralph yanks me close to him. I stumble forward, letting out a surprised yelp. “Don't let the age fool you. I can still give you what you need in spades. Twice a day even." What is he talking about? He yanks at me again and my body slams into his. Fuck. I look up at him, shooting daggers with my eyes. I'm so angry, I could spew bile. That's when I see it. His smile widens into a demoniac grin. It takes me only a fraction of a second for realization to set in. Mother of God, he's hard.

  "Are you rubbing yourself against me?” I ask, enraged.

  "I’m merely showing you what eight inches of goodness feels like, dear Amelia. Consider it a preview."

  "You pervert," I spit in his face. "Let me go," I demand. My voice is loud enough that people around us look our way. Ralph smiles at them and keeps directing me deeper and deeper into the crowd of dancers. Damn.

  I double my efforts to pull away from them, but his grip tightens. He’s nowhere near my father's height, but Ralph is still taller than I am. And much stronger.

  He's taking pleasure in my struggle. "I'm not done with you yet,” he whispers in my ear. “And to your point, you don't even know the depths of my perverted mind."

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  “Get your paws off of me,” I throw at him. “Right this minute,” I add.

  “You’re much feistier than I remember your mother to be. Then again, maybe Victor changed her.”

  Bloody retard. “Don’t you dare.” My lips purse and I squint so hard at him I think my temples are about to erupt. “Shame on you.” My anger grows with every word I speak. People around us flash curious stares. Some frown with concern. “You don’t get to come to one of my father’s events and disrespect me and my mum’s memory like that.”

  Ralph finally loosens his grip. I twist out of his arms shaking. Finally, there's some distance between the two of us. I take in an enormous breath, allowing it to make me feel strong. “You have no bloody right,” I shout waving an accusatory finger at him. He stares at me before tearing his gaze away from mine.

  I close my eyes for a beat, relieved that this dreadful episode is over. Thank you, God. When I reopen them a very tall man with a steely gaze is staring straight at me. His jaw is locked, his nostrils flaring like a bull’s and the expression on his face unreadable.

  CHAPTER 14

  Holden

  After a brief introduction and a bit of banter, we’re able to convince Sir Trent Bennington to talk shop over dinner tomorrow night. Luckily, the British airline mogul accepts. After shaking his hand and seeing him off, we turn around to face the dance floor. To my surprise, Amelia seems to have disappeared. I stretch my neck and my head left and right to see if I can spot her. That older guy she was dancing with led her to the middle of the crowd. It doesn't take me long to realize something is very wrong.

  “Check that out," I say, tapping Brandon's arm.

  "Where?"

  "Amelia and her dance partner." I point towards the left of the room. "Did you see that freaked-out expression on her face?" I ask. “That asshole is way too close to her."

  Brandon turns to face me. I've seen that look of death in his eyes before. "I don't know who that fucker is, but I'm about to rearrange his face."

  "Not if I get to him first," I declare.

  "Come on, let's go…" Brandon doesn't even finish his sentence and he's already taking a step forward.

  We eat up the floor in front of us. In only a few strides we’re standing right behind our little princess. I nod to Brandon to let him know that I’ll go stand next to the guy. When I come to face Amelia, dread washes over me. Everything about her demeanor indicates that she's very agitated and upset
about something. Since I don't know who this jerk is, I tread carefully.

  “Miss Cavendish, is everything okay?” I ask. She blinks up furiously at me, but doesn't respond. I turn my attention to the man standing next to me and pin him with a deadly stare. He returns my stare with a copious dose of defiance. "Miss Cavendish, are you okay?" I repeat. My question is addressed to her, but I don't allow my eyes to move away from this fool.

  “If she's not answering, then evidently she is," the idiot says.

  "Was I talking to you?" I reply.

  "I know the Prime Minister has a soft spot for Americans, but given the way you're dressed, I assume you're not part of Amelia's security team. If I were you, I'd be on my way." He has the audacity to wave his hand at me.

  "I'm not going anywhere until I get an answer."

  "This is none of your business."

  "I'm making it my business. What are you going to do about it?" I challenge.

  “Who the fuck are you?” the stranger who’s really irritating me right now asks. So far, the people round us have continued to dance unbothered, but this outburst causes everyone to freeze.

  I lean closer to the guy, intent on making a scene and whisper loudly, “I’m about to become your worst nightmare,” before shifting my eyes back to Amelia. By now, Brandon is standing right next to her.

  “Miss Cavendish, please talk to me?” I implore.

  She doesn’t answer. It's like she's paralyzed. She averts her gaze. The blank look on her face is starting to worry me. What the hell happened here?

  “Miss Cavendish is this man bothering you?” Brandon rephrases my question.

  “You two overgrown baboons better get out of the way. This is between Amelia and I.” He’s really asking for it.

  “Miss Cavendish,” I press, ignoring the old fart.

  Amelia looks up at him with an air of disgust. “Yes, he’s bothering me.”

  “Shut up, Amelia.” The man’s insult causes a wave of commotion amongst the guests surrounding us.