SEAL's Touch: A Dirty Bad Boy Romance (Small Town SEALs Book 3)

by Vivian Wood

  “Here in Tokyo?”

  “Here in Tokyo, in a hotel room with this kind of view, in bed with you,” she said.

  “Where did you see yourself instead?” he asked, reaching out to draw slow figure eights on the comforter just above her breast, over her heart.

  “Well, I’m not sure,” she said. She had to tread lightly here; too much truth would give away the game, but not enough would mean she was a liar. “I guess… I saw myself being a career woman.”

  “And? You seem like a career woman to me,” he said.

  “Right,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s just…” She took a breath. “I was a foster care kid.”

  His finely wrought brows arched. “You?”

  “Yeah. My mom was a junkie, and my dad was… well, who knows where he was. My mom finally gave me up when I was ten, which is… it’s late, for a kid. Especially one as angry as I was. So I grew up in the foster care system.”

  He leveled her with a considering look.

  “I had no idea. I mean, I know you mentioned the group home, but I hadn't realized the extent.”

  “Well, I went to therapy. I went to college. I did all the things that you’re supposed to do,” she said, growing uncomfortable.

  She’d started this conversation as a way not to lie to him about anything, but now she realized that maybe it was too much. Maybe the truth was more than either of them could handle.

  “I didn’t mean anything negative by it,” he said. “Just — you seem really well-adjusted.”

  “I am. I mean… I wonder about my mom sometimes, you know? What happened to her, is she even alive…” She cut herself off. Her throat was growing suspiciously thick. She cleared it. “My point is, I saw myself having this high-flying career, going all around the world for business. And now I have that, but… it’s not the way I imagined it would be.”

  “No?”

  “No. I certainly never pictured myself being the—” She started to say executive assistant, but caught herself. “I thought I would be traveling. I thought I would be in your shoes, I guess.”

  “You’re only a few years out of college,” he said. “You’ve come quite a way in that time.”

  “I know. I just… I learned early on in my life that I should fight hard for what I want. That apartment I live in? I own that. I worked two full-time jobs, found the cheapest place that had good bones. Saved every penny to fix it up. Everything in there is secondhand, or a hand-me-down.”

  He frowned. “Do you need money?”

  She gave a frustrated sigh.

  “You’re not listening. I already brought the apartment. I already fixed it up. I did that, on my own.”

  His brow furrowed. She could tell he was at a loss for what to say.

  “Sorry, I guess… I’m just venting,” she said, sliding her hand over his and linking their fingers together. “My point is that I thought I would be further than this by now.”

  His mouth twisted bitterly.

  “And you work for someone who has everything.”

  “That’s not what I was saying.”

  He sighed, laying back on the bed.

  “I really tried to not be a rich asshole. My father’s a rich asshole, I don’t want to be like him.”

  “I know,” she said. A few moments passed. “Where did you see yourself?”

  “Me? I saw myself in the SAS until they wouldn’t have me anymore. Then… I don’t know. Retire somewhere that was very green.”

  “That doesn’t sound bad.”

  “It was simple,” he said with a shrug. “But apparently life had more in store for me.”

  “I would say that running a complex, multinational military contractor business is slightly more than being in the Special Air Service,” she said with a smirk.

  “Yeah, well. I didn’t have a choice. Believe me, I was looking for a way out.”

  “I get that, though. Most people are looking for a way out of whatever they grew up around,” she said.

  He smiled. “I don’t feel like an ass very often, but complaining about my privileged childhood makes me feel fucking awful.”

  She laughed. “Yes, well. It’s hard to compete with me in that area.”

  He kissed her then, long and slow. When she finally pulled away, she raised a brow.

  “I thought we were going to dinner.”

  “Sure. Just as soon as you don’t tempt me so much,” he said, pulling her into his arms.

  She giggled and kissed him again. “So it’s going to be room service again tonight?”

  “I can think of something else I’d rather eat…”

  Smith smiled, then ducked under the covers, kissing his way down her body. She closed her eyes and clutched the sheets, all thoughts forgotten for the time being.

  22

  Smith rose early, taking a moment to soak in the Tokyo skyline. It was just before dawn, which meant that everything was still lit up, the whole city drenched in neon light.

  He stretched, then left the bedroom. He went to the foyer, intent on catching the Wall Street Journal as it was delivered to the hotel room. The paper was already on the hallway table, though.

  He made to pick it up, then saw the folded piece of white paper on top. He picked it up, curious. His name was neatly written on the front. He unfolded it, and smiled.

  Smith —

  If you have some time today, I would like to have your company. I’ll be up until dark.

  With admiration,

  Sir Charles DuPointer

  Smith put the letter aside and picked up the paper, scanning the front page. Charles was an old family friend, had been business partners with his grandfather, in fact. A billionaire with plenty of free time, Charles had retired in Tokyo. Smith hadn’t thought of him in ages, but it seemed like as good a time as any to see him again.

  He hurried through breakfast and got dressed. He checked on Cameron, who slept like she would never wake up, one hand curled beneath her head. He smiled and slipped out into the early Tokyo morning.

  Calling for a car, he had it take him into the heart of Azabu, the wealthiest section of Tokyo. He got out at Charles’ building.

  The doorman must have been notified of Smith’s invitation, because he bowed to Smith and encouraged him to enter, noting that Mr. DuPointer was on the top floor.

  Smith bowed, then rode the elevator up to the penthouse. The glass elevator looked down on numerous people going about their early morning routines on the street below.

  When he arrived at the penthouse, he stepped out into an all-white security area with one large door in sight. There was a guard posted who looked Smith over, checked something on an iPad, then waved him on.

  He pushed the big white door open, and it accepted him. He stepped into a completely different room, a foyer with dark wood paneling all around. The foyer had one door too, so he kept moving through.

  He walked into a huge open concept room, with the kitchen on one side and the dining and living areas on the other. Huge floor to ceiling windows wrapped around the whole space, making it seem even bigger than it was.

  Everything was glass and chrome and tiny white tiles on the kitchen side. Smith looked over to the dining room and living area, which had a similar aesthetic but also had a roughly hewn dining room table and huge white couches with gray throw pillows.

  “Ah, there you are!” Charles said, appearing from seemingly nowhere.

  He was an old-fashioned British gentleman, wearing a dark three-piece suit and clutching a pipe on one gnarled hand. Smith thought that Charles must be at least ninety now, leaning on his cane, but Smith was too well bred to ask.

  “Charles,” Smith said warmly. “So good to see you.”

  “Have you broken your fast?” Charles asked, hobbling in with the help of his cane. “I can ring for something, if you like.”

  “No, no,” he said. Looking at Charles now, Smith would definitely have known that he came from money. He wouldn’t have thought that Charles once tower
ed over him, though.

  He remembered meeting Charles at a very young age, at a park in London. Smith had been with his grandfather, who he remembered as looking very similar to Charles, but taller. Charles had walked a spaniel of some sort, a beautiful golden beast.

  He had the most fleeting memory of the meeting, but he held it close.

  “Let’s sit then, shall we?” Charles said, turning and moving toward the couches.

  Charles took a seat at one end of a couch, so Smith took the other end. It took Charles some minutes to settle in and put his cane aside, but Smith didn’t mind.

  “Now then! Let’s have a look at you,” Charles said, digging a pair of glasses out of his jacket pocket. “Ah! You look well.”

  “I feel it,” Smith said. “I’m in town on business, actually.”

  “So you’ve finally given… what was it, the Special Air Service, the boot? Your grandfather would be so proud to know that you’re running the family business these days.”

  “Well, I’m working under my father.”

  “Yes, well,” Charles said, making a pointed expression. “Not to speak ill of the chap, but your grandfather intended the business to go to you.”

  Smith shrugged. “Que sera, sera.”

  “Of that I have no doubt,” Charles chuckled. “I simply mean to say that if your grandfather had not died so young, he would’ve held the reins until you were ready. Spencer really never had a good mind for business.”

  Smith smiled and shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “I assume the business is running smoothly?”

  Smith hesitated. “Smoothly enough. There is some missing money at the moment, but I suppose that’s just the way of things.”

  “Indeed. Nothing goes perfectly forever. You just keep an eye on it, a razor-sharp eye.”

  Smith nodded. He glanced out the window onto the morning traffic.

  “Quite a view you’ve got here.”

  “Ah! Yes, isn’t it? I thought the real estate firm was mad when they suggested it, back in the nineties. But they were right, the address has become quite elite. Close to Akasaka, the business district. That’s all I care about.”

  “I’m sure it’s several times more valuable than when you bought it, too.”

  “You know, I have a lot of time to think. That’s what getting old means, these days: time to think.”

  “You must be very wise, then,” Smith said jokingly.

  “Quite the opposite,” Charles said gravely. “I have so much, and yet no one to give it to. You see, I never fell in love. I lived all these years, telling myself I was too busy, love was not important.”

  “Oh, come on. You got to travel the globe! You sold your business for upward of a billion dollars. You retired here,” Smith said, waving his hand toward the window.

  “And yet, I am alone.”

  “You could have whoever you wanted here.”

  “I could pay to have them here, yes. But there are very few people that would stay, not expecting remuneration once I pass. No, I have lived my life for ninety-six years, doing what I wanted. I wish now that I had made time for love.”

  Smith was surprised. “Love?”

  “Yes. The older I get, and I’m about as old as they come, the more I realize that the sun rises and sets for those that are in love. It’s the only thing that makes the earth keep turning.”

  “That’s poetic, at least.”

  Charles looked at Smith sternly.

  “Tell me that you love someone. Or care about them, at the very least?”

  Smith smiled, and Charles grabbed on to it before he could respond.

  “Ah! I knew there would be someone for you. You’re much wiser than I was at your age,” Charles said, patting the couch. “Well done.”

  Smith felt himself growing red.

  “It’s… it’s not a big thing,” he said.

  “Well, of course it is! Listen. When I was young, younger than you, there was a girl that caught my eye. And I caught hers, I think. But I thought, what if something better comes along? What if someone I fancy more is around the corner? So I didn’t take my shot, and the girl married someone else. I think if I had realized then that I would still be alive and kicking at ninety-six, I would have proposed, rather than live with regret.”

  Charles wheezed after such a long speech, fanning himself. He coughed a few times, his elderly frame shaking.

  “Can I get you something? Should I call for someone?” Smith asked.

  “No, no. There’s nothing you or anyone else can fix,” Charles said. “I just got a little worked up.”

  Charles sat back with a sigh.

  “Well, anything I can do…” Smith said.

  “Just think on what I said,” Charles said. “Now, how about a cup of tea?”

  Smith acquiesced, glad he hadn’t caused Charles to have a lapse in health. What the older man said stuck in Smith’s head, though.

  I would have proposed, rather than live with regret.

  It was certainly worth thinking about.

  23

  Cam was pleasantly full as she and Smith stepped out of the restaurant. The sky above was darkening, the clouds heavy with rain, but Cam couldn’t complain.

  After all, she was walking the streets of Tokyo with Smith. He seemed to be in a good mood, insisting on stopping at any shop that caught her eye, buying anything and everything that she fancied, and sending it back to the hotel.

  Mostly she was just wide-eyed, staring at the colorful array of signs covering everything, declaring what they sold in Japanese. Cam didn’t speak a single word of Japanese, but thus far she’d met only locals that spoke English, too.

  They’d just had dinner at some fancy place, stuffing themselves with sushi until Cam complained that she was going to burst.

  “Where should we go?” Smith asked.

  She looked at him, with his trademark dark shirt, dark pants, and black leather jacket. She liked how they looked together. She wore a short green dress, but her new leather jacket was dark like his.

  “Hmmm. How about we go somewhere special?” he asked.

  “Special?”

  “Yeah. There’s a reason we came all the way to this side of Tokyo to eat. Come on.”

  He took her by the hand, walking down the street. A few blocks of high-rise buildings and neon signs later, she turned the corner. She saw a high wall of gray stonework, covered in ivy.

  “That’s interesting,” she said, pointing at the wall. The wall was huge, probably most of the block.

  “That’s where we’re going,” he said.

  “What?” she said with a laugh. “To the wall?”

  “No, we’re going around the corner to the entrance, and then we’re going inside.”

  She shut her mouth and let him lead the way. She soon discovered that there were in fact four walls, though what they protected remained mysterious.

  They rounded the corner, spotting the entrance, almost hidden by ivy. The entrance was a huge set of double doors, set back a bit. Smith pushed the ivy aside and opened the door, ushering her in.

  When Cam stepped inside, the whole world before her seemed to transform. The skyscrapers were still all around them, but within the walls was a lush, green garden done in traditional Japanese style.

  A beautiful tea house sat on a hill on the far left, with ponds, sculptures, and a wide array of flowers at its feet. An Asian man in an all-black suit stood, waiting.

  “Mr. Calloway?” he said to Smith.

  “That’s me,” Smith said.

  “Enjoy,” he said, bowing slightly.

  Smith looked to Cam. She was having trouble closing her jaw.

  “Well?” Smith said.

  “I— Smith, it’s amazing! You rented this out?” she asked, marveling.

  “Actually, you can’t rent it. You have to know someone,” he said. “Luckily, I do.”

  “Oh my god,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Shall we?”

  He offered his
arm, and she took it. They strolled the gardens, making note of the different kinds of flowers, of the swans and ducks, of the carefully manicured greenery. They moved along paths made of tiny white pebbles, on raised daises of dark Japanese wood.

  “Oh, look!” Cam said, drawing him over to an overhang made from lilac and cherry blossom petals. “They must make this every couple of days, to keep it fresh.”

  He smiled, taking everything in without saying much.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Just… I’m enjoying your enjoyment,” he said.

  She stepped closer, her hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. It was perhaps the thousandth or the two thousandth kiss they had shared since they’d arrived in Tokyo, Cam thought, but it was like a breath of fresh air.

  Now that she thought about it, pulling back from the kiss, all of their kisses were refreshing. She had yet to feel that one was boring, anyhow.

  She opened her mouth to say as much, but a couple of cherry blossoms drifted down. She looked up, and realized it was about to pour.

  “Rain,” she said, wrinkling her nose.

  “We could make a run for it,” he said, pointing. “To the tea house.”

  “Okay! Hurry, hurry!” she said.

  As they sprinted across the garden, the sky opened up. Cam shrieked a bit as they ran. They were both soaked by the time they reached the tea house. Cam’s dress was plastered against her skin.

  “Oh my god,” she said as they stopped beneath the porch, gasping for breath. “I didn’t know—”

  Her words were lost, though, because Smith kissed her. The familiar wave of longing crept up, of wanting someone she had — for now. Once he found out about her, though…

  She pushed that thought away. She kissed him back desperately, her hands clutching at his jacket. He gentled the kiss, cupping her cheek, before pulling back and resting his forehead against hers.

  They just stood there, quiet, for a long time. She had no idea what was going on inside his head. All she could think was that he was going to break things off; otherwise why was he rejecting her kisses?