My Donut Princess: The Navy SEAL Series, Novella

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My Donut Princess: The Navy SEAL Series, Novella Page 2

by Stone, Odette


  “Take these.”

  “Would you like me to call your driver and have him come and get those for you?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket. I needed to put this man in his place.

  “No, I want you to carry my bags!” I demanded.

  He leaned down, so his face was close and his icy blue eyes were level with mine. “Not my job.”

  “Your job is to take care of me!”

  “My job,” his minty breath teased my nose, “is to ensure you don’t get kidnapped.”

  “You can do both,” I snapped. “You might as well make yourself useful.”

  “I need my hands free, in case I need my gun.” His tone dripped with sarcasm. It thrilled me that his patience seemed to be slipping. Don’t ask me why, but I needed him to feel the same frustration I felt.

  I scoffed. “Oh please. That’s the laziest excuse I’ve ever heard. You’re fucking lazy.”

  He blinked a couple of times, and a tick developed in his jaw. “Speaking about lazy.”

  “How dare you!”

  He straightened up, bored with this conversation. “Do you want the driver or not?”

  I wasn’t going to win this battle. “Fine. Tell him to hurry.”

  Annoyance flashed in his eyes as he lifted the phone to his ear. We stood in uncomfortable silence waiting for the driver.

  My driver arrived. In my need to get away from Aaron, I handed off my bags and started to walk towards my favorite clothing stores.

  “Femi, hang on.”

  Whatever.

  A strong hand spun me around. “What are you doing?”

  I yanked on my arm, unable to loosen his grip. “Unhand me.”

  “I repeat. What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing, you stupid imbecile? I’m shopping!” I yanked hard at his grip. He let go suddenly, and my momentum made me stagger back.

  “You don’t walk away from me. You work with me.” His tone, in my opinion, was inappropriate.

  “Fuck you.” I stepped up to his hulking form. “How fucking dare you touch me.”

  “Oh, Princess,” his icy blue eyes were slits, “touching you brings me no pleasure.”

  I whipped my arm forward. The palm of my hand connected with the side of his face in a slap that could be heard in SoHo. His head snapped to the side with the force of my blow, and I watched in half-fear, half-fascination, as he slowly turned his face back to me.

  I felt horrified that I had struck him. I’d never hit anyone in my entire life. In shame, with shaking legs, I turned to walk away.

  “Get in the car.”

  “Fuck you,” I tossed over my shoulder. Ashamed of my actions, but unwilling to admit it.

  His fingers bit into my forearm, and for the second time in minutes, he spun me around. “I’m not going to ask you twice.”

  “Why are you such an asshole?”

  “Why are you such a self-entitled little bitch?”

  “How dare you!”

  “Yeah, how dare me. Get in the car.”

  “I’m not getting in anywhere. I tell you what to do, not the other way around.”

  “Princess, I’m not going to ask you again.”

  “Or what?” I taunted.

  He shut his eyes and let out an angry breath. And then, before I could even process what was happening, the entire world flipped upside down. It took me a heartbeat to realize that he’d slung me over his massive shoulder.

  In a total temper tantrum, I kicked my legs and beat on his back with my fists. “Put me down.”

  He ignored me. In one of the most humiliating experiences of my life, he carried me back to the car. He all but heaved me into the back seat and then climbed in after me.

  “Drive back to the hotel,” he ordered the driver.

  “How dare you,” I screamed like a banshee, hurting my ears in the process. “How dare you humiliate me like that!”

  I raised my arm to hit him again, but this time he was ready.

  His big hand captured my small fist in his, and he leaned in, so his face was inches from mine. “Don’t hit.”

  I swung wildly, kicking and trying to lay punches where I could, but in a heartbeat, he had me pinned, face down on the seat, my arms twisted behind my back. His mouth came up against my ear, and his breath hot against my skin. “I warned you.”

  Humiliation and rage pounded in my veins. “I’m going to have my father fire you.”

  “Please do,” he sounded almost desperate.

  “If you hate this so much, why don’t you quit?”

  “I can’t. This is a fucking favor for my soon to be ex-friend, Clark.”

  “Fuck you.” I wiggled to no avail against his tight embrace.

  “Stop,” he commanded.

  To my surprise, I stopped moving. Probably because I had no idea what else he would do.

  “Now are you going to behave like a child or are you ready to act like an adult?”

  I breathed heavy, not wanting to concede defeat.

  “Because I can sit here like this all day,” he added.

  “Get off me.”

  “Are you going to hit me again?”

  I debated my options and for the first time in my life, realized I had none. None that I liked, anyway. “No.”

  In one smooth move, he yanked me up and spun me around, so I sat on the back seat. Without looking at him, I moved towards the window, as far away as I could from him, and then to my utter mortification, I burst into tears.

  Chapter 3

  Aaron

  I wanted to kill Clark. No. I wanted to maim Clark with painful, torturous techniques and then kill him. I strode into my hotel room, yanking off my tie and throwing my jacket across the room.

  “Fuck.” I vented my frustration.

  With both hands, I leaned on the desk and took deep, cleansing breaths. I needed to get myself under control. Today had been a disaster. Clark had mentioned that Femi was beautiful, but nothing had prepared me for the sultry, provocative, siren that had become my responsibility. I groaned when I thought of those lush lips, that long black hair that I wanted to yank and a body that screamed sex.

  She was a fucking bitch, but I’d been fighting a boner most of the day. Apparently, my cock hadn't gotten that memo.

  I leaned my head back, shut my eyes and tried to forget how I had manhandled her like a Taliban prisoner. Her quiet sobs had almost been my undoing. I had never made a woman cry in my life and shame burned my gut.

  When we had arrived back at the hotel, she had slammed the door shut in my face without letting me clear the suite. She left me to stand outside in the hallway for the remaining eight hours of my shift. I deserved it. For eight long hours, I waited for Clark to call and tell me this wouldn’t work out, but my phone remained silent.

  I needed to call Clark. No. I needed to jerk off and then call Clark. I would not survive four more weeks with Femi.

  My phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number.

  “What?”

  “This is Terry?” The night shift bodyguard spoke in my ear. “We have a situation up here. Can you come back up?”

  Shit.

  “On my way.”

  Chapter 4

  Femi

  I sat curled up on the couch with my arms wrapped around my knees. Dressed for bed, I wore pink satin pants, a matching top and my feet were bare. Fear trembled my body. Terry paced in front of me, talking on the phone.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  “Who is it?” Terry called.

  “Aaron.”

  For some reason, that made me feel better. As much as I hated Aaron, I knew he could protect me. I raised my eyes and watched as he walked into the room. His hair stuck up, and he wasn’t wearing his suit jacket or his tie. His white dress shirt was open at the collar exposing smooth, tanned skin.

  “Want to tell me what’s going on?” he asked, looking around the room.

  “Hang on,” Terry said, his hand over the receiver.

/>   Aaron sat on the coffee table in front of me, taking all of me in.

  “Femi, what happened?”

  I swallowed. “I got a phone call.”

  “From who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Was it a male or female voice?”

  “The voice sounded like a robot.”

  “Okay. What did the voice say?”

  I raised my eyes to his cool blue gaze. “They said they were going to kill me. They’d use a knife to slice me open.”

  No expression crossed his face. “Did they say anything else?”

  I cleared my throat, trying to quell the panic. “They told me that if I wanted to live…my dad should make sure he has ransom money available.”

  His jaw tightened. “Did they say anything else?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to die. And I don’t want to be gutted like a fish.”

  He leaned in. “As long as I’m here, no one is going to gut you, do you understand?”

  I trusted him. “You promise?”

  His features were grim. “I promise.”

  * * *

  Two more hours passed. I sat silently on the couch and watched as the men in my life went into high gear. Clark showed up, and then there was a video conference with my dad and some other men. I fought sleep, unwilling to go to my room.

  Aaron touched my shoulder. “Why don’t you go to bed?”

  I felt stripped bare, so my answer was honest. “I don’t want to be alone.”

  “You’re not alone. We’re right here.”

  With reluctance, I made my way to my bedroom, but I left the door open. I fell asleep, comforted by the sound of Aaron’s low voice talking in the next room.

  * * *

  Despite the morning light, my anxiety levels remained sky high. I knew exactly what I needed to do.

  I crept out of bed and found Aaron passed out on the small settee. His long legs hung over the side, and his head bent awkwardly on the little armrest. I sat across from him, on the love seat and with my knees up, I waited for him to wake up.

  “What time is it?” he asked, not opening his eyes.

  “You’re awake?”

  “I heard you get out of bed.”

  I glanced back towards my bedroom knowing how silently I had moved. “How did you hear that?”

  He yawned. “I’m trained to hear things in my sleep.”

  “Why?”

  He sat up, looking deliciously wrinkled. His shirt was unbuttoned exposing a hard expanse of muscles and a corded midsection. He also wore a gun holster, that held a lethal looking weapon. He’d scare me if he weren't hired to protect me. Right now, I had other, unfamiliar feelings. I wanted more. Which made no sense at all. What could I possibly want from this man?

  “How old are you?” I blurted out.

  “28.”

  “Are you married?”

  He held up his left hand showing me that he wore no ring.

  “What kind of job do you have that makes you need to hear things in your sleep?”

  “I’m in the Navy.”

  “Like a sailor?”

  “No, I’m an operator.”

  “What kind of operator and why do you need to hear things?”

  “I’m a Navy SEAL.” He cracked his neck and winced. “Sometimes we’re on missions, and we need to sleep in hostile territory. A small branch snapping can signal someone approaching which can be the difference between life or death.”

  Aaron was a SEAL. That explained so many things about him.

  “Why are you working here?”

  “To do Clark a favor. I’d rather be on my boat, having a vacation, but here I am.”

  I needed to do something I’d never done before in my life. I needed to apologize. I’d already decided that this man was my best chance to stay alive. I couldn’t afford for him to leave.

  “I’m sorry.”

  That icy stare connected with my gaze. “For what?”

  He knew what, but he was going to make me say it.

  “For hitting you. And for fighting you.”

  He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Why’d you do it?”

  My temper flared, but I forced myself to remain calm. “I’m not used to being told what to do.”

  “Didn’t your parents tell you what to do?”

  “I grew up with nannies, mostly. They did what I wanted.”

  “What about teachers?”

  “I was privately tutored.”

  His eyebrows raised. “So, you basically have run roughshod over everyone your entire life.”

  “I’m a nice person.” I informed him, indignant.

  “I don’t need you to be nice.”

  Couldn’t this jerk see how hard I was trying here? I offered him my olive branch, and he swatted it away.

  But I needed him.

  I took another calming breath. “What do you need?”

  “My job is to keep you out of harm's way. I need you to obey me.”

  “I’m not your dog!” I shot back.

  In frustration, he pushed both hands into his already messy hair. “Help me, help you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Leave me be so that I can do my job.”

  “I do.”

  “No, you don’t. I’m not going to be your pack mule. I’m not here to polish your shoes. I’m here to protect you. Don’t ask me to be anything else.”

  I could feel my face flush at the mention of him polishing my shoes. I’d only asked the other guard to do that because his boots were scuffed. I’d been hoping to show him how it was done. “Fine. If I do that, will you stay?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “We’ll see?” I shot to my feet.

  He rubbed one eye. “Depends on how well you can control your dramatics.”

  Fuck you.

  I sucked back my insult. “Fine.”

  He couldn’t hide his amusement. “I’m not holding my breath.”

  I barely hung onto my emotions. “I’m trying here, but you can’t bait me with your little jabs and comments.”

  He stood up, and for the first time, I got hit with one of his smiles. Not a terse polite smile reserved for employers, but a real, full-on smile. His smile was so gorgeous that it almost blew me off my bare feet.

  “Sorry,” he shrugged. “I guess we both have a few things to work on.”

  I stared up at his face like a priestess would stare at her favorite patron saint. Adoration, admiration, and complete awe washed over me. No one had the right to be that good-looking.

  With a sickening sensation, I realized that I was attracted to him.

  Me.

  Femi Payne.

  Attracted to my bodyguard like some stupid 90’s movie starring Kevin Costner.

  For that reason I hated him. Still, it required discipline to move away from him. I spun on my heels and walked towards to my bedroom.

  “Are we going out today?”

  I stopped in my tracks but didn’t allow myself the pleasure of looking back at his face. “In two hours. Go eat and get ready.”

  “You’re not going to leave without me?” his voice teased.

  “I told you I’d obey you.” The words tasted like vinegar on my tongue.

  He laughed. “Okay. Let’s see how you do today.”

  Unable to resist, with more force than necessary, I slammed my bedroom door shut.

  I felt dazed as I walked into the vast marble and crystal bathroom.

  Holy shit. I had the hots for my bodyguard.

  Which was so stupid. And cliche. I blamed last night’s crisis. Fear and anxiety had obviously skewed my judgment. My inner survival mechanism now drew me towards the biggest alpha male in my vicinity. And he was it. By a long shot.

  These feelings didn’t mean anything.

  I viciously brushed my teeth. I wasn’t a cliche. And I certainly wasn’t going to bust a move on the staff like some desperate debutant. Yes, he was hot. But it didn’t explain why it g
ave me a strange thrill when he disregarded my demands. I didn’t want or need someone to boss me around.

  Would he boss me around in bed?

  I spat into the sink and gave my reflection a hard look.

  Enough. I needed to stay alive.

  That meant Aaron was off limits.

  Chapter 5

  Femi

  “Femi, your bodyguard is so hot,” my friend, Mari, said from behind her cup of coffee.

  I surreptitiously stole a look at Aaron. He sat at the table next to us. As if he could sense my look, he turned his intense gaze on me.

  Flushing, I dropped my eyes and played with the baby teaspoon on my saucer. “He’s new.”

  “He’s a cool glass of water if I’ve ever seen one.”

  “Hush.” I admonished her. “His ego is already out of control.”

  “Do you want to go meet up with the boys?”

  The boys being the Ivy League guys we partied with often. Last night’s threatening phone call had scared me. I wanted to retreat to the safety of my suite. “I don’t know.”

  “Please say yes. They want to meet us for dinner at Bayswater after their golf game.”

  “Maybe another time.”

  “Brent is going to be there.”

  Brent had been my one time crush. Now his boyish good looks and charm held no appeal. I wanted a man who could protect me. Like Aaron. My thoughts annoyed me, so I flashed her a smile. “Sure, why not.”

  We went back to my suite to change. I sat on my bed and watched as Mari pawed through my closet.

  “I’d kill to have your budget for clothes. Can I try this on?” She held up a dress.

  I already regretted accepting tonight's invitation. “Sure.”

  * * *

  Two hours later, with Aaron walking behind us, we made our way into Bayswater, New York’s most elite country club. The boys waved us over to their table.

  I air kissed everyone’s cheek.

  “Who’s the dude?” Brent asked, eyeing Aaron.

  “That’s Femi’s hot bodyguard.” Mari whispered loud enough that half the room probably heard.

 

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