by Amy Gamet
“Yeah. We could use more redundancy. Maybe even bring on another tactical guy like Jax, now that he’s spending more time out of the office.”
“I was thinking about that. I’ll bring it up to him. How’s it going over there?”
“Different than I expected. I want you to get some information for me on the woman.”
Cowboy smiled. “Your wife?”
“Cut the shit.”
“Come on now,” said Cowboy. “You can’t expect me not to have a little fun. You looking forward to your wedding night? I should probably tell you about the birds and the bees before you turn off the lights.”
“If you only knew.”
Cowboy narrowed his eyes. “Red, what’s going on over there?”
“Nothing, man.”
Shit would get complicated pretty quick if he really got involved with that woman.
“She was in Switzerland up until recently,” said Matteo. “I want to know who she was with.”
Cowboy pinched the skin between his eyes. “Is she pretty?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“So she’s beautiful.” He clucked his tongue. “Be careful, Red. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“Speaking of which, how’s Charlotte?”
The last picture she texted him flashed in his mind and his dick bounced in the shorts. “She’s good. Real good.”
“How’s Logan handling it?”
“You mean, has he started speaking to me in the two days since you left? No. Still yes sir, no sir kind of bullshit. Between you and me, I think that boy needs to get laid. Loosen up a little.”
“According to Hawk, he’s quite the ladies’ man.”
“No freaking way.”
“It’s true. He said the women can’t get enough of him. The older women, in particular.”
Cowboy laughed. “You’ve got to be shitting me. Doc and the cougars?”
“I believe Hawk’s words were, ‘He has very sophisticated taste in women.’”
“Well, who would’ve thought it?” He shook his head. Oddly enough, he could picture it. Logan with his pretty-boy muscles and some knockout forty-five-year-old bombshell.
It takes all kinds.
“So Switzerland, eh? What are we looking for?”
“The father of her baby. I’m thinking it’s probably the same guy.”
“Roger that. Find out who your wife was banging in the Alps. Got it.”
“Asshole.”
Cowboy laughed. “Seriously, man, why do you want to know this shit?”
“I can’t put my finger on it, but there’s more going on here than just the election. I’m feeling like I’m in the dark.”
Cowboy nodded. “I’ll put Logan on it right now. I’ll give you a call as soon as I find anything out. Is that it?”
“The whole mansion is bugged.”
“Probably Trane. The guy he’s running against.”
“Could be. I haven’t figured out who the bad guys are yet.”
Red really was operating in the dark, his connection to HERO Force his only assistance, and Cowboy felt a moment’s concern. “Plot twist, brother. It’s you and me.”
“Sometimes it feels that way, man.”
Cowboy knew exactly what he meant. “Stay safe, Red. Don’t trust anybody, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I know something.”
10
Matteo needed to stay the course. It was an expression used by his commander in BUD/S training time and time again. Don’t get distracted. Ignore everything except your goal. An image of himself in Hell Week rose up in his mind, his body more fatigued than he knew was possible, his mind determined and focused.
He couldn’t let the apparent simplicity of this assignment make him undisciplined. Pretend to be Grace’s husband until the election, keep her safe, go back to the States and get an annulment. Period.
Keep his hands off her. His mind, too.
He brushed a piece of lint off his jacket. His suit looked expensive, with satin lapels on the jacket and French cuffs on the shirt. He’d never worn anything like it.
This assignment was chock full of surprises.
Like Grace.
He remembered their kisses, adrenaline instantly surging through his bloodstream.
Dammit.
She was intriguing, and he needed to keep his interest in check. He thought of the baby, wondering who his father was and what had become of his relationship with Grace.
Was it possible he was the one who left the note in the baby’s nursery? Better question—did he even know the baby existed?
He straightened his tie. The question was a deeply personal one for him, having grown up with a single mother as his only parent. He never met his own father, and more than once as a kid, he told himself maybe his dad didn’t know he existed at all.
Because then he wasn’t so unwanted.
Shit.
If he lived to be a hundred and ten, he’d still act like a five-year-old where his father was concerned, and this assignment was hitting a little too close to home.
His phone rang and he pulled it from his pocket, not recognizing the number. “Cruz.”
“This is General Talia. The bomb at the stadium just exploded. More than half the lives were lost.”
Matteo made the sign of the cross. “Dios mio,” he whispered.
“It gets worse. Moments before the blast, I received a phone call from the house’s outgoing line, telling me it was about to happen.”
Matteo frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“The call came from inside the house. The bomber is here for your reception.”
11
Grace reached her hand inside her dress, pulling at the tight fabric. “I guess it will have to do. The others don’t fit at all.”
She eyed herself in the mirror with some concern. The cream-colored organza dress had two straps of gathered material that widened to cover each breast before joining her full skirt at her waist. Her back was bare.
The clothing in her closet could have belonged to a stranger, so different were her proportions and figure than they used to be. Where she had once been flat, she was now curvy; where she had once been curvy, she was now lushly endowed. She slipped a sideways glance at the maid. “Is it too much?”
The young girl’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. You look ravishing.”
Grace looked back at her reflection. “Ravishing?” She turned away from the mirror and opened her clutch, checking to be sure she had everything.
What should the bride bring to a fake wedding reception?
She snapped it shut.
“Is there anything else you’ll be needing?” asked Trudy.
“Yes, please. Bring me the baby so I can feed him before I go.”
“Of course.”
Bring me the baby.
She’d only been back in her father’s house a few days, and already it had changed the way she mothered her own child. The security was necessary. The space was not.
After his birth, she’d spent eleven days alone with her new son and could count on her fingers the number of times he’d been separated from her body. She nursed him, cuddled him, and slept beside him, breathing in his sweet breath and enjoying the slowing of time.
Now Nico had his own room across the hall and there were other people to tend to him. What had started as a mere convenience was now feeling like a wedge designed to separate her from her child.
Stop it. No one here is trying to distance you from your son.
Even still, she decided he would spend tonight with her, in her bed.
Will Matteo be in your bed, too?
An electric thrill ran up her spine and she quickly shook her head. No. He could sleep on the floor.
She remembered the heat that had rushed between her legs at the first touch of his lips on hers. It’d been too long since she’d been with a man. She’d been too lonely, too desperate for a man’s comforting touch.
That ex
plained her reaction.
Just the other day her obstetrician gave her the green light to have sex again, and Grace had laughed, a hysterical sort of giggle as she was struck by the difference between her life when she’d gotten pregnant and her life today. She’d gone from what she thought was a committed relationship to a veritable self-imposed cloister.
She wouldn’t be having sex anytime soon.
Kissing Matteo had tapped into the well of lust that had been filling since her lover disappeared. It wasn’t that she wanted that man. She was hormonal and emotionally wrecked, combustible material everywhere, and he was a match.
Yes. That must be it.
The door opened and the maid entered, quickly settling the babe in Grace’s arms.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she whispered to her son, all other thoughts vanishing in an instant. She would never get over her awe of this child, the weight of his sweet little body, the warmth of him against her skin. He was nuzzling her chest with his face and she smiled happily before sitting down, removing the strap of her dress, and offering him her breast.
She leaned back and began to rock.
God, it felt good to have that strap off her shoulder. With the added heft of her engorged bosom, it was digging into her uncomfortably. She sighed. It was going to be a long night, both physically and emotionally.
She took in the baby’s features, letting her finger smooth over his dark brow, noting its familiar shape. It was not the only place she saw her lover in their child. Nico also had his father’s full lips and long eyelashes.
She closed her eyes tightly. She would not think about him tonight. This evening was going to be hard enough without opening that particular Pandora’s box.
The baby’s tiny hand fisted her skin and he made a contented humming sound. She could do this forever, but she was all too aware of the crowd gathering downstairs and the maid waiting to collect her son.
There was a knock at the door and she covered herself. Would she never be able to nurse her baby in peace? “Come in.”
Matteo’s dark suit jacket and stark white shirt set off his complexion. He looked like a playboy or a model, too handsome to be mistaken for an ordinary man. “I’m ready to go downstairs whenever you are,” he said.
“Just let me finish nursing the baby.”
He walked to the other end of the room. “How often do you have to feed him?”
“Every three hours. Sometimes he goes for a longer stretch during the night.”
“You must be tired.”
“Yes. Very.”
“I’d be happy to help if there’s anything I can do. I’m not used to having nothing to do all day.”
“What exactly do you do for…”
“HERO Force. All sorts of things.”
“Does it stand for something?”
“Hands-on engagement and recognizance operations.”
“Hands-on engagement? Like fighting?”
“When we have to, yes. Sometimes we protect people, like I’m protecting you. Other times we need to rescue someone who’s been kidnapped or held hostage.”
“Sounds dangerous,” she said.
“It can be.”
“What did you do before that?”
“I was a Navy SEAL. Most of the HERO Force guys are SEALs.”
“Wow.” Grace readjusted her dress as best she could, then lifted the baby to her shoulder to burp him. “And now you have nothing to do but pretend to be my husband.”
“I can think of worse jobs.” His smile was endearing.
She sat up straighter. “Please don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Flirt with me.” She swallowed against the knot in her throat. “We kissed. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“I never thought it did.”
“You were flirting with me just now.” She looked around the room. “There is no one here but the two of us, so there is no reason for you to do that.”
Matteo stood, looking down at her from his full height. “You don’t want me to be nice to you unless we have an audience. Got it. And I shouldn’t take our practice kiss or any loving looks you throw my way in public to heart.”
“I don’t mean to offend you. I think some men might get the wrong idea in this situation.” She stood up.
“Can you take him for a minute, please? I need to finish getting ready.”
He took the baby, awkwardly at first, settling him in the crook of his arm. “How old is he?”
“Six weeks.”
“Your father wants me to find out who his father is.”
“What?”
Matteo held up his hand. “But I meant what I said earlier, Grace. I told him I won’t be his spy. He can’t ask me to be your husband and ask me to betray you in the same breath.”
The maid reappeared at the door, hovering and wringing her hands.
“What is it, Trudy?” asked Grace.
“I don’t want to ruin your evening, but there was an explosion just now at the baseball field. The stadium your father had built. They’re saying it was a bomb.”
Grace’s mouth hung open. “Was anyone hurt? Was there a game going on?”
“I don’t know. My boyfriend just texted me the news. Isn’t it awful? First the pedestrian bridge, now this.”
Too many tragedies for one small nation. Whereas one could be an accident, a bomb most certainly was not. She turned to Matteo. “We should cancel the reception.”
“The guests are already here.” He handed the baby to Trudy. “I’m sure your father will say a few words. We should get downstairs.”
12
They walked down the long hallway she had walked down a thousand times before. “When I was a kid, I used to imagine I was a queen walking down this hallway and that monstrous staircase at the end. Today I fully expect to topple down every last step.”
“We’re going to do just fine.”
“We’re about to pretend to be husband and wife in front of thousands of people.”
“No, we are husband and wife. We only have to pretend to be in love.”
He was right, of course, but she wasn’t sure she knew how to do that, wasn’t sure she trusted this man enough to act out the scene that was required of them.
They paused on the top step, taking in the throngs of people below, and she clutched his arm more tightly. One by one, heads turned to see the newly married couple, and Grace’s stomach danced with anxiety.
Her eyes met her father’s and he raised his glass. After all the years she had fought against him, all the distance she had put between them, she was right back here living in his house, completely under his thumb.
Matteo turned her toward him and cupped her jaw. “If we were really in love, I’d want to kiss you in front of all these people. Is that okay?”
Excitement trailed along her spine. He was an attractive man, no matter this was all a charade, and her heart beat faster when he looked at her like that. She nodded. His arms came around her waist and her hands rested on his chest as he tipped her chin up and lowered his head.
13
The crowd cheered.
Somewhere in this sea of people was the enemy—a man or woman responsible for killing tens of innocent people before clapping politely at the new bride and groom.
Matteo was focused on the threat but cognizant of the need to continue with their charade. Even as her lips parted softly beneath his own, he knew Talia’s men had secured the exits and were preparing to question the guests before letting anyone leave the mansion tonight.
He also knew they weren’t going to find anything, which was why he had a nine millimeter pistol concealed in his jacket, a combat knife in a holster at his ankle, and he wasn’t going to let Grace out of his sight.
He lifted his head and stared longingly into her eyes as he imagined a newlywed might do.
The kiss was a calculated move on his part, a visual for the people watching that would set the tone for the evening. Everyone would want to see how
the new couple got on, so he was making a point to show them before they could draw their own conclusions.
He also needed to make Grace more comfortable. The anxiety coming off her was intense, and she didn’t even know about the phone caller.
They walked down the stairs to the continued applause of the crowd, a smile firmly fixed on Matteo’s face.
A voice from the crowd caught his attention. “Such a beautiful couple.”
This was a job. An assignment, nothing more. But it was a mind fuck of an assignment and he’d only just gotten here.
The protection detail he was used to.
The relationship he was not.
Who was this woman he found himself married to? What were the circumstances that had brought her here, that had left her with a child to raise on her own?
Did she still have feelings for Nico’s father?
He wanted to know, more than he should have.
Wait until you’ve been sleeping in her room for a few weeks, listening to her breathe.
He could already picture her cuddled on her side, imagine the warmth of her body beneath the covers and the scent of her on the air. He reminded himself he was a gentleman—a red-blooded gentleman with one hell of an imagination.
Dammit.
Just knowing they were going to be sharing close quarters for such a long period of time made Grace an important figure in his life, maybe more important than any particular woman had been in years.
He dated, but he made a conscious effort to keep it casual, even friendly. And while several of those women had longed for more from him, he had never felt the same and they’d parted ways.
The reception was a whirlwind of introductions and congratulations. From Grace’s firm hold on his arm, he couldn’t help but wonder if any of these people were actually her friends. They all seemed to be business acquaintances of her father’s or politicians of some sort.