The Undercover Billionaire

by Jackie Ashenden

  Yeah, that was better. So much fucking better.

  She put her hand out to touch the dark lines of his eagle-and-trident tattoo, tracing them, her fingertip the merest brush against his skin. “Tell me about your tattoos. Like this one. Is it a SEAL thing?”

  “Yeah. It’s our emblem.”

  Her fingertip moved to the tribal tattoo he had on his right arm, touching the skeletal frog at the center of it. “And this one too, yes?”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  “What about … this?” She moved onto the pattern around it, sharp black lines and jagged edges.

  He smiled. “The tattoo guy was a real artist, thought it would look better as part of an entire design. So he drew one up and I liked it.”

  Her mouth curved. “Me too.” She traced another line up his arm and back over to his chest again, and he had to repress the urge to shiver at the delicate touch. Christ, he liked her hand on him.

  “This one?” She’d moved to his left shoulder and arm this time, looking down wide-eyed at the Chinese dragon sleeve that covered it.

  He had to laugh. “It was in Shanghai. Got drunk on some rice wine with some buddies, and of course getting some more ink was a good idea.”

  “Of course,” she echoed, amusement in her blue eyes. “But it’s a lovely tattoo.”

  “I was lucky. One of the other guys wanted some Chinese characters on his neck and the tattoo guy’s English wasn’t great. He ended up with a tattoo that basically says ‘dog place record.’”

  Olivia laughed. “Oh my God, you were lucky. So why the dragon?”

  “Why do you think?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “Please don’t tell me that’s an homage to Smaug.”

  He grinned and lifted his arms, putting his hands behind his head. “I can neither confirm nor deny.”

  Her smile made his heart sing, and then she made it sing even louder as she bent and kissed the dragon on the top of its head where it crested his shoulder.

  “You do love your monsters.” Her wandering fingertip came back to his chest, stopping over his left pec, above his heart. Then she frowned. “‘The world breaks everyone,’” she read slowly, “‘and afterward, many are strong in the broken places.’”

  He didn’t move, only watched her. Would she remember? She hadn’t remembered some of what he’d told her back there in galley, about their conversations, but he hadn’t minded that because it hadn’t been about him.

  It had been about that sound in her voice when she’d asked him whether any of it had been real, and the pain in her eyes. It had been about him realizing that he’d been lying to himself all this time, believing that it hadn’t been a real friendship and that she’d never meant anything to him.

  It had been about him wanting to tell her the truth, even though it made him ashamed of his own behavior. Even though it hurt him to acknowledge that he’d hurt her. Even though he was worried it would put his mission at risk.

  He wanted her to know that yes, it had been real. And yes, he’d cared about her. Cared about her enough to remember their conversations, to remember them in detail. Every little thing.

  “That’s familiar.” Olivia looked up at him, a crease between her winged brows. “Where have I heard that before? It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s something from a book you read parts of aloud to me once, because you were convinced I’d like it. But it was by Ernest Hemingway and was considered a classic and I thought it would be boring.”

  A wave of color swept over her skin, making her eyes glow. “A Farewell to Arms,” she said quietly. “You remembered that too?”

  “Of course I remembered. That quote you read out, I liked it. And you know what else? I was on a mission in Central America a couple of years back, and we ended up hiding out in an abandoned house. And in one of the bedrooms there was a copy of A Farewell to Arms in English. I shit you not.”

  Her eyes went wide. “Don’t tell me…”

  “Yeah, I read it, because there was nothing else to do. And you know what?”

  Olivia bit her lip like she was trying not to smile. “You hated it?”

  “No, I fucking loved it. You were right. It’s an awesome book, even if the ending sucked. Anyway, I liked the quote. So I had it inked in so I’d remember.”

  Her gaze dropped back down to his chest, her fingertip tracing over the words again, and there was a small silence.

  “I missed you when you left,” she huskily. “The library was so quiet and there was no one to talk to anymore. You were the only one who was ever interested in talking to me, Wolf. My mom was gone, Dad was too busy, my brothers were all older than me and didn’t much care. I think you were the only friend I had.”

  The thought of her all alone was painful. “No, come on. You must have had someone else, Liv. Not even one girlfriend?”

  She shook her head. Her finger had moved onto his dog tags, tracing his name engraved on them. “I didn’t go to school, I only had tutors, so I never really met anyone. I had a few friends in college, but Dad always got really suspicious of them. He didn’t like anyone getting close to me. I didn’t mind all that much, not when no one talked to me the way you did.”

  There was a small hot coal inside him, one that glowed warmly at her praise. And his instinct was to throw cold water on that shit, keep his distance. But right now, with her lying on top of him and her hand moving on his skin, distance was the last thing he wanted from her. “Really?” He tried to sound casual, as if it didn’t matter to him. “Bet it was the first time you’d actually had any intelligent conversation.”

  Her gaze flicked to his, unexpectedly sharp. “I don’t know why you keep thinking you’re not smart. Or that I’m smarter than you are. Because it’s a lie, you know that, right?”

  His jaw tightened and he shifted under her, uncomfortable. “Well, you are smarter than me, that’s a fact. But … I’m the muscle, not the brains. Someone tells me who to hit and I hit it, that’s it. That’s all.”

  She didn’t move, still staring at him. “You’re more than that and you know it.”

  The softly spoken words were difficult to hear though he didn’t know why. “It’s okay,” he said, trying to take it down a notch. “I don’t mind. My marks were never as good as Van’s or Lucas’s, but Dad said he didn’t care about that. He said my job wasn’t to think anyway. My job was to be strong.”

  But there was a look in her midnight eyes. A steady look that seemed to see all the way through to his soul. “Don’t believe it, Wolf. Don’t believe that for a second. You told me you liked the way I treated you as smart, and you know why I did? Because you were smart.”

  He couldn’t think of what to say, because you could only deny something so many times before it started to look like you were fishing for compliments. Yet he wanted to deny what she said all the same.

  Because maybe if you accepted it, you wouldn’t have any excuses for swallowing Dad’s bullshit, hook, line, and fucking sinker.

  “You talked to me about a lot of things,” she went on slowly, her fingertip moving from his dog tags back to his skin again, tracing little patterns on his chest. “And I was always interested in what you had to say, because you were interesting. You weren’t stupid in any way. You thought about the things you were passionate about very carefully.” Her tracing finger dipped lower, drawing a curving pattern over his abs, making them tighten. “Anyway, a stupid man wouldn’t have kidnapped me right from under my father’s nose and taken me somewhere he couldn’t find us. Not only once, but twice.”

  Desire was starting to build inside him again, the warmth of her body and her scent and that maddening touch of hers driving him slowly insane. And he really wanted to ignore what she was saying, because he didn’t like hearing it. Yet that hot coal in his chest burned to hear more.

  “A stupid man wouldn’t have cared about our friendship,” she went on, her finger moving out to his hip and then back again. “And he wouldn’t have cared about hurting me. It w
ouldn’t have occurred to him to remember those conversations we had in the library, and he definitely wouldn’t have cared enough to have an Ernest Hemingway quote tattooed on his chest.” Her finger moved lower, making his breath hiss as it headed toward his groin. “A stupid man wouldn’t have thought the truth would be important.” Her fingers curled around his already achingly hard dick, gripping him, the look in her eyes absolutely inescapable. “But most of all, I wouldn’t have fallen in love with a stupid man, Wolf Tate.”

  He wanted to say something. About how she was wrong, that she couldn’t have fallen in love with him, because he was stupid. He was just a dumb meathead who didn’t belong to anyone or anything. Who didn’t have anything else in his life but his mission. Who couldn’t let that go. Even if it would hurt the only person in his life who, as it turned out, had never lied to him.

  She’s not lying now, either. So why not believe her?

  Oh, Christ, how he wanted to. But that word and that look in her eyes, they made that fucking coal in his chest burn so bright it hurt. It just fucking hurt. If he crossed the line, believed what she’d told him, it would bring everything down.

  It would make him question everything, and he couldn’t afford to.

  Because you know the mission is a lie.

  No, he had to believe it was worth it. He had to believe that all these years of following orders and doing everything his lying daddy told him was for something. Even if all it was, was ending this fucking feud that had caused so much harm and hurt so many people.

  Never quit—that was one thing a SEAL never did, and so he couldn’t.

  So he didn’t say anything. Instead he sat up and took her face between his hands, kissed her hard and long and deep. Then he said, “Remember what you promised me in the hotel? How about you give it to me now?”

  Yeah, you fucking tool. Answer her declaration with a request for a blow job. Excellent response.

  Something shifted in her eyes, a fleeting sadness that made him wish that he was a different person, a different man. A man who deserved her instead of a man who was quite frankly the worst person in the entire world for her.

  “No,” he said, changing his mind as a hot kind of shame filled him “Forget I said that. You don’t—”

  Olivia laid a finger across his lips, stopping the rest of his sentence. “It’s fine,” she murmured. “I want to. But you’re going to lie back and think of England while I figure out how to do it myself, okay?”

  He should refuse, he really should. But he wasn’t that good.

  Lie back and think of England. Holy fuck.

  So Wolf lay back, but he didn’t think of England. He only thought of her.

  Impossible not to when she gripped him in her fist and her hot mouth finally wrapped itself around his dick. And he thought he was going to lose it right then and there, like a goddamn virgin. But he held on and let her play, let her lick and explore, let her tongue circle the sensitive head of his cock then graze it with her teeth.

  His hands fisted in the sheets and he couldn’t stop himself from giving orders, telling her to put it in her mouth, suck him harder, just fucking suck him.

  But she didn’t. She continued playing around with licks and nibbles, only occasionally rewarding him with the wet, velvet heat of her mouth.

  It began to be clear to him then, that she wasn’t simply giving him a blow job for his pleasure. It was actually a subtle punishment. A reminder of what she could do to him, how she could make him shake and gasp. A reminder that she had power here and that he was as powerless when it came to this as she was when she was under him.

  He knew what the punishment was about. He’d seen that fleeting sadness in her eyes when she’d told him that she loved him after all and he hadn’t said a word in return.

  But that was the problem. He couldn’t say it.

  Love didn’t mean anything, that was what Noah had told him the one and only time he’d said, “I love you, Daddy.”

  It was only a word, his father had said. And he didn’t need words. Love was a weakness, and he didn’t need that either. Only action mattered. Only loyalty. Only duty.

  That’s all he could give Olivia de Santis. Loyalty, duty. And death. She needed more than that. She deserved more than that.

  So he kept his mouth shut and he let her punish him with the most indescribable pleasure. Let her push him to the edge of his strength, his endurance, his patience, testing him in a way he hadn’t been since he’d earned his trident in Coronado.

  It was so sweet, so painful. The pleasure, indescribable.

  He hadn’t had a woman concentrate on him like this since forever.

  You’ve never had a woman concentrate on you like this at all.

  Fuck, he probably hadn’t. Certainly not one he cared about the way he cared about Olivia. Not one who mattered to him the way she did.

  He had to move his hands in the end, had to shove his fingers into the soft silk of her hair to keep her head right where it was, thrusting his hips up into her mouth. It was either that or go completely fucking insane.

  She let him do it, didn’t fight him. Only sucked him in deeper, turning him inside out, making him forget his own name.

  When the orgasm hit, it was like a bullet direct to his brain, blowing him completely away. And as he fell into the white light of complete ecstasy, he was aware of only one thing. That there was only one person he’d been lying to consistently all this time, and that person wasn’t Olivia.

  It was himself.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Olivia woke from an incredibly deep sleep to the sound of splintering wood and men’s voices shouting at each other. The bed seemed to be shaking too, or rocking at least.

  Still not really awake, she sat up, shoving her hair out of her eyes to see Wolf at the door to the cabin. He was naked and seemed to be struggling with a man dressed all in black who was waving … a gun.

  Adrenaline burst in her head at the same time as the gun went off with the muted percussive sound of a silencer.

  Fear followed hard on the heels of the adrenaline, slamming into her brain, making her go absolutely cold. She opened her mouth to scream Wolf’s name.

  But the bullet must have missed him because he didn’t fall. Instead he drew back one massive arm, punching the guy in the face with a short, hard jab, before bringing up his knee and driving it into the man’s stomach. The man groaned, slipping to lie still on the ground. Wolf didn’t pause. He swiped the man’s gun, then grabbed his own jeans from the floor and tugged them on.

  Olivia made her mouth work. “What’s happening? Who’s that? Why are they—”

  “Stay here,” Wolf ordered, cutting over the top of her, his words vibrating with a hard authority she’d never heard from him before. He moved over to the side of the bed and before she knew what he was doing, he’d put the gun he was holding in her hand then bent to kiss her, hard.

  “Don’t make a fucking sound,” he murmured, lifting his head, the look on his face fierce. “Understand? I’ll deal with this.”

  The metal of the gun felt heavy in her fingers, deadly. “But don’t you need this?”

  He lifted his other hand, something sleek gleaming. Another gun. “Already got one.”

  “But … I don’t know how to use … this.”

  “With any luck you won’t have to. Just in case.”

  Heavy footsteps sounded on the deck above them.

  Wolf cursed. He kissed her again and without another word, went to the door of the cabin and stepped through it, closing it behind him. He didn’t make a sound.

  Fear curled like an animal in Olivia’s chest.

  What the hell was going on? Who were these people?

  Something in her gut was telling her she knew exactly what was happening, but she didn’t want to accept it.

  She’d only told her father that Wolf was coming for him. She hadn’t let him know her location.

  Yes, but obviously he’s tracked you somehow.

 
Olivia slipped out of bed, scrabbling around in the darkness for her clothes. Her panties and bra were screwed up on the floor, as was her blue dress, and she didn’t particularly want to wear any of it. But she certainly wasn’t facing what she had a horrible suspicion she was facing naked.

  Once she was dressed, gripping the gun firmly in her hand, she crept over to the unconscious man on the floor near the door. It was dark in the cabin, but there was a bit of light, enough to see the guy’s features as she tilted his head toward her.

  The fear inside her clenched tight.

  She knew the man. He was one of her father’s security team.

  Of course her father had found her. He always found her.

  The boat rocked and she heard more hard, heavy footsteps on the deck above her, then there came the sound of a splash. She took a frightened breath, rising up from the unconscious body beside her and going over to the closed door.

  Her fingers tightened on the gun.

  Wolf had told her to stay here, but her heart was throwing itself against her ribs, urging her to go and find him. Help him somehow. Not that she’d be much help, since she had no idea how to fire a gun and would probably only get in the way.

  Your father might be here. Wolf might kill him.

  She swallowed, dry-mouthed with fear, her palms damp.

  Whatever was happening, she couldn’t stay here. She had to do something.

  Lifting her hand, she began to turn the doorknob, only to hear more footsteps above her, and then a massive thump, the boat rocking more.

  Then silence. Stillness.

  Her heartbeat was a terrified rhythm in her head, the metal of the gun slipping in her sweaty palms. What the hell was happening? There had been no gunshots, but if all the weapons were silenced, she wouldn’t hear any.

  Had something happened to Wolf? Had her father found him? Or had Wolf found her father?

  Unable to stand it anymore, Olivia pulled open the door to the cabin, only to come face-to-face with a familiar figure. His face was shadowed in the darkness, but she knew who it was anyway.

  “Miss de Santis,” Clarence, her father’s head of security said. “Come with me please.”