by Zoe York
Bought by the SEAL
Zoe York
Contents
Hot Caribbean Nights
About This Book
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Epilogue
Join my Facebook Reader Group!
About the Author
Hot Caribbean Nights
Welcome to Miralinda, a sleepy Caribbean island full of French and Spanish culture—and a new crop of Navy SEALs looking for love.
ASSIGNMENT: Hot Caribbean Nights
Ruined by the SEAL
Bound by the SEAL
Bought by the SEAL
Cherished by the SEAL
CLICK HERE TO
SUBSCRIBE TO ZOE’S NEWSLETTER
If you enjoy Navy SEAL romances set in the Caribbean, look for other ASSIGNMENT: Caribbean Nights stories from Kat Cantrell (Duchess Island) and Anne Marsh (Angel Cay)!
www.navysealromance.com
The safest marriage of convenience is to buy the bride who definitely won’t fall in love with you…
Navy SEAL Will Parry needs to get married to satisfy a condition of his late grandmother's estate—and inherit a valuable chunk of land on the Caribbean island of Miralinda. His lawyer thinks they should fight the bogus clause, but Will has a better plan.
* * *
Daphne Strike has big dreams and no money. So when her nemesis suggests a mutually beneficial plan—a quickie wedding in exchange for a million bucks—she's tempted.
* * *
Sure, it means they need to set aside their differences and play at actually liking each other. But if they can trust each other enough to pull this off, they'll both get everything they've ever wanted. No strings attached.
Chapter One
Will Parry didn’t like ultimatums.
This one, though, was hard to counter. For one thing, the issuer was his grandmother, and for another, she was dead.
His back tightened up as he glared at his long-time lawyer across her expansive—and expensive—desk. Out the window, the San Diego harbor glittered. That’s where he should be right now. On a boat or in the water. Training with his SEAL team over in Coronado.
Not dealing with this estate bullshit again.
“What do you mean, there are new stipulations? I thought my grandmother’s wills had all been invalidated?” Because the old woman had written too many of them.
Gill spread her hands wide. “I’m just relaying the message, so don’t get mad at me. I understand it’s highly irregular—”
“It’s highly illegal, is what it is,” Will growled.
“Let’s call it irregular. That’s easier.”
He snorted. None of this had been easy. It had started a year ago, when his grandmother passed away and left her significant real estate holdings to a variety of people. Each property, in fact, had been bequeathed to multiple parties. His part of the Parry fortune, besides his generous trust fund and holdings in the company businesses, was an estate on the Caribbean island of Miralinda.
It was the perfect place to establish an executive training facility where he could employ his fellow Navy SEALs once they’d done their duty to their country. It was a small way he could give back to his second family—brothers from other mothers, more important to him than almost any blood relation.
Except good ol’ Gran had also bequeathed Villa Sucre to the Miralinda Historical Society. And then her entire estate had gone into a tenth-level-of-hell version of probate because more wills had been unearthed.
Plus there was the small matter of Will having decided to go ahead with construction at Villa Sucre anyway. Might made right wasn’t always a mantra he stood by, but in this case, he was willing to take on anyone who wanted to show up in the Caribbean and challenge him for the property.
But it would be good if he could get it settled once and for all. “Fine. What is this new make-or-break requirement the lawyers in New York are saying Gran can put on me from the grave?”
“I didn’t say it like that.”
Will cleared his throat. “No, you said it like, there’s a new stipulation attached to the waiver from the estate trustees. But that sounds like softened up bullshit, so I’m going with make-or-break requirement instead.”
Gill shuffled some papers, not making eye contact. “Right.”
Will leaned in. “What is it?”
“It’s highly irregular.”
“You already said that.”
His lawyer finally lifted her gaze. “It’s a consistent clause in her wills that was accidentally dropped from the last two versions. It was a clerical mistake.”
“What. Is. The. Clause?”
“She requires her grandchildren to marry before they can inherit the properties she’s earmarked for them.”
Will laughed. Out loud and hard, because no way was that legal. “Try again.”
That got him a sigh. “I told you—”
“I know. But that’s not enforceable, is it?”
“No, probably not. But are you going to sue your grandmother’s estate and complicate this process further? Your cousins might mutiny.”
There were fifteen of them in total, each one with at least one property similarly locked up in the process. “You’re my lawyer, not theirs. Don’t worry about them.”
Gill laughed gently. She’d been his lawyer long enough she could mock him, and he didn’t have to like it. “I’m not worried about any of you. Frankly, you can afford to buy the entire island ten times over. I’m not sure why you care so much about this one particular estate. Have you considered just walking away from it?”
And let the property rot in disrepair the way it had for the last decade? No, he couldn’t do that.
He shifted restlessly in his chair. “I spent some of my childhood there.” And it represented his future, too. One where he could give broken men every opportunity when the military was done with them. Sure, he could do that anywhere, but Mick and Brayden were already settled in Petite Ciotat. They had a website, for God’s sake.
Okay, maybe he was grabbing at excuses.
He didn’t care.
It mattered.
“I’m not walking away from it,” he muttered. “If I need to get married, so be it.”
And just like that, Gill shifted into the legal machine he paid her handsomely to be. “As your lawyer, I’ll remind you that a marriage of convenience could open you up to significant liability. The prenup would need to be ironclad. Where are you going to find a woman who would agree to those terms?”
Will didn’t bother to question why his lawyer immediately jumped to that conclusion. She wasn’t wrong, anyway. It would be a marriage of convenience. He wasn’t the loving kind. All business, hard as rocks from the inside out. He had brutal determination where others had a heart.
“Are there any limitations on that kind of thing? The prenup—how much can I give my new bride?”
Gill coughed. “That’s not usually how prenups work, Will. They protect your money, they don’t give it away.”
He tightened his jaw. That didn’t seem quite fair. He needed a wife for his own selfish purposes. He needed to make it worth her while.
And besides, he had a woman in mind. One who hated his guts. One whose price tag would be very high.
But Daphne Strike would be the perfect wife for him for precisely those reasons. She needed his money, and she wouldn’t confuse his proposal for anything other than the cold business deal it was. “I have someone in mind. Someone on Miralinda, in fact.”
“I’ll need to run a background check on her.”
Will shook his head. “That’s not necessary.” He held up his hand. “Draw up the papers. Make sure the contract meets the new rules, and I’ll get it done.”
“Who is this woman who you are so sure wants to be bought like that?”
“Someone who called me a selfish, out-of-touch, navel-gazing dillhole when I first met her.”
Daphne swore at her computer. The internet was lagging hard and she really needed to get this order in before she had to leave for her shift at the resort. Her favorite supplier only had a thirty-percent-off sale twice a year, and she had just enough room on her credit card to place a decent-sized order. If she could get the damn page to load.
Which she couldn’t.
She glanced at her phone, which she’d tethered to her computer for the data connection. It only had two bars. Grabbing the laptop and the phone, she dashed up the ladder to the deck of her small sailboat—and abruptly skidded to a halt, because there was an unwanted intruder on board.
“Go away,” she said, turning her back on Will Parry.
The man was a menace.
Cocky, far too handsome for his own good, and stinky, filthy rich. A fact he somehow always managed to make known.
Nobody else thought he was obnoxious, of course. She wasn’t sure what was wrong with her friends. Arielle and Cara swore up and down he was a good guy with a big heart.
Bull crap.
“I have a proposition for you,” he called out as she climbed into the captain’s chair and held her phone up to the sky.
The page on the computer screen refreshed. Excellent. She added the essential oils she wanted to her shopping cart.
Will moved closer, his footsteps heavy on the deck. Wasn’t he a Navy SEAL? Couldn’t he move with cat-like prowess, super stealth mode? Why did he have to take up so much presence in her space? Go away, she wanted to growl at him, but she had seven minutes to get this order in, so snarky would have to wait.
“Can I hold that for you?”
She jerked her head to the side and glared at him.
He pointed to her phone. “So you can use two hands.”
She rolled her eyes and handed it over.
He smirked, and she hated that. Right there, that was why Will Parry was a jackass. Because sure, he’d do something nice, but he knew it, and he got off on knowing that she was forced to say thank you.
But the joke was on him, because she wasn’t grateful. If he wanted to help her, that was good for him. Teach him some humility or something.
She turned her attention back to the computer. Shea, coconut, arnica, babassu, allantoin, and a few colorful mica powders, too. Like a speedster, she zipped through the checkout, holding her breath as her memorized credit card number processed.
When it went through, she let out a shaky exhale.
“Soap making stuff?” Will asked as she snapped her laptop shut. “And don’t roll your eyes at me this time, it’s rude.”
“You’re rude,” she said, grabbing her phone from him before she spun away, sliding out of the chair on the opposite side from where he stood. “And I need to go to work.”
“Aren’t you even curious why I’m here?”
“Nope,” she threw over her shoulder. She disappeared down below. His footsteps didn’t move above her, and she quickly stripped down to her bra and panties. Then she pulled on a simple black sundress, shoved her feet in her cotton sneakers, and took a quick look in the mirror. Her shock of platinum blonde hair was perfectly messy. All she needed was a swipe of pale pink lip gloss and she was good to—
“You look great.”
With a squeak, she whirled around. Will was standing in the hatch. So he was stealthy when he wanted to be. “How long have you been there?”
“Not long.” He grinned like that was a lie.
Whatever. If he saw her hot pink panties, maybe he got a thrill out of them.
She didn’t care.
Shooing him out of the way with her fingers, she climbed back onto the deck. Then she latched the door and hopped off her boat and onto the fixed walkway that led up to the marina.
Behind her, Will laughed. “Okay, so I’ll come find you later?”
She waved her hand over her head. Only as she climbed onto her scooter did she realize that might seem like some kind of agreement. Which wasn’t ideal, because when it came to Will Parry and his cocky grin, she was never in agreement. Hopefully he wouldn’t be on Miralinda long this time. He came and went, visiting whenever he had leave from the navy. His best friends lived and worked here now, and they’d fallen in love with her best friends, so she had to put up with him from time to time. They always butted heads, and he liked that way too much.
So whatever proposition he had for her, she wasn’t interested.
And the sooner he left her island paradise and headed back to San Diego, the better.
Chapter Two
Daphne tossed the rum bottle from one hand to the other in her best Tom Cruise-in-Cocktail impression. Even though the movie came out two years before she was born, she’d heard enough jokes about it in her career as a bartender to know what the tourists wanted to see.
She preferred Coyote Ugly jokes.
But if she were a movie bartender, she’d prefer old school hip-hop as a soundtrack over country or Beach Boys. Something just like the Das EFX she was bouncing to right now as she mixed her hundred-and-twenty-fifth daiquiri for the night.
Roughly counting.
“Do you get to dance?” asked the hotel guest who was waiting for his drink. “At the end of the night?”
Daphne put a little extra shimmy into her hips. “Only back here, my friend. By the end of the night, I’m ready for my bed. Alone.”
He laughed and slid her an extra tip as she poured his drink. “Sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be, I’m not sad about it in the least.” She slid his five-dollar bill into her bra. “I get to stretch out like a starfish.”
She did a row of tequila shots for a bachelorette party next, then did a slow two-step as she turned to check the far end of the bar in case anyone was waiting there.
Someone sure was.
Not that she’d serve him tonight. She lifted her voice. “I think you’re lost, Mr. Parry.”
Will smirked and stepped away from his perch, curving around the end of the bar to prowl toward her through the crowd. “Not at all. I’m right where I want to be.”
“I think the first and only time you came in here, you called the crowd ‘rough’ and the drinks ‘watery’.”
“Tell me, Ms. Strike.” He stopped right in front of her and leaned in, making the rest of the bar disappear. Somehow, despite the dance music and the crowd of people, she had no trouble hearing him as he lowered his voice. “Do you have an encyclopedic memory of all the times I’ve insulted you?”
“Yes.”
He laughed. “So do I. I have a lot to apologize for, in fact. Can I buy you a coffee?”
She glanced sideways, noting a guest’s silent request for two bottles of beer. “Hang on.” She served that person, then two more before she gave Will her attention again. “No.”
He didn’t blink. “You made me wait that long for a no?”
“I wish I could have made you wait longer. Long enough that you’d have to scurry back to California without an answer.”
“Ah, but that’s the thing. I’m, uh, here for a while.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I’m finally discharged from the Navy.”
“Oh.”
“The usual response there is different.”
“Well, I’m not the usual.”
“No, you most certainly are not. Look, we got off on the w
rong foot, I recognize that.” He grinned like it wasn’t a big deal. A minor inconvenience they could overcome, for reasons she didn’t quite understand. “But still, I’d like to make it right.”
“So you want to buy me coffee? In the middle of my shift?”
“Not at all. After work. I can wait.”
“As I tell all the men who hit on me here, I go home alone.”
“Why do you think I’m hitting on you?”
She tripped over what she’d been about to say. “Pardon?”
“I’m not hitting on you.”
“Right. I knew that.”
He gave her a slow, filthy smile. “Did you?”
“I promise I don’t want anything to do with the lecherous snake in your pants, Will.”
“I’m going to hold you to that.”
She rolled her eyes. “You do that. But I’ll be exhausted after work, so maybe we can talk tomorrow.” Or never.
“Yeah, I heard you say that to the guy who ordered the daiquiri. Which looked great, by the way. Not watery at all.” He slid a hundred-dollar bill across the bar. “I’ll take one of those, please.”
She pushed the money back and pulled enough cash to cover the drink from her bra. “This one is on me, Mr. Moneypants.”
She didn’t want to owe him anything. And if he thought a ninety-dollar tip would bribe her to talk to him, he was going to be rudely surprised.
Will kept going like this was no big deal. Maybe to him, nothing was a big deal. “You lied to him, though.”
“Who?”