Zulu, p.12
Zulu, page 12
Holding out my hand, putting more dominance into my tone, I gave her both an order and a choice. “Come on.”
Her gaze cut to my outstretched gesture, but she didn’t move.
“Nothing sinister or sexual, I promise.”
Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. Then she exposed her vulnerability again and repeated what I already knew would be my biggest battle with her. “I do not trust you.”
“I know, and I’m trying to change that, but you have to meet me at least partway. Take my hand, sweetheart. Trust in this moment.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Clean you up.” Fucking own her. One day.
“I can do that myself.”
“I’m going to do it for you.”
She met my gaze with something close to alarm. “Why?”
“Because I don’t like seeing the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on with tears on her face.”
“What if you put them there?”
I fucking stilled. “Did I?”
She looked away. “No.”
I should’ve shot Kostas when I had the chance. “Then take my hand.”
Her gaze cut to my shoulder and traveled down.
Inhaling deep, she picked up her cell with one hand and did as I asked with the other.
Parisa
Holding my cell phone as if the security of it would protect me, I took his hand, and he did exactly what he said he would do.
He led me into the master bathroom and washed my face.
Gently, expertly, with a warm washcloth and an expression so intense it was almost frightening.
No man had ever washed my face.
Except he didn’t simply run a cloth over the aftermath of my breakdown. Staring at me as if he could read my deepest fears, he’d held his hand under the running water, then wet the cloth before grasping my jaw and tilting my face up to his.
He tended to me like I was his most prized possession.
I didn’t know if it was the act itself or the look in his eyes as he did it, but suddenly, I was questioning whether or not I was truly upset about the app. The woman I thought I was, the one I was raised to be, she wouldn’t excuse the lie. She also wouldn’t let a man see her with ruined makeup, let alone allow him to wash it off.
His subtle masculine scent of crisp linen, gun metal and a dark ocean breeze swirled with both his natural musk and fresh shower, as if he’d just gotten dressed for the day. Unlike every man I’d ever known who drowned themselves in heavy cologne meant to impress, this man didn’t. His virility emanating off him with his lethally controlled authoritarian power and presence, he smelled exactly as he was—dangerous, dominant and alpha.
And yet, with the huge muscles of his arms stretching the fine drape of his custom suit, he held my face and tenderly wiped away makeup I had put on before I even knew he existed.
The thought startling, the words were coming out before I could think through the consequences. “I should not forgive you for lying to me.” I suddenly did not want to think about my life before I knew this man.
“No, you shouldn’t.”
I looked up at the cut angles and sharp lines of his too-handsome face.
His long fingers sank into my hair before his huge palm grasped the back of my neck. Cupping my nape in dominance, holding me in place, his voice dropped to a deeply quiet timbre. “If I had lied to you, you should hold me accountable.”
With a warning in his tone, and a seriousness in his expression I did not understand, my body betrayed me, and I shivered. “I should hold you accountable for threatening my crew.”
His grasp tightened. “You should walk away before I kiss you.”
All the air left my body as my head spun.
Before I could grasp the rush of alarming adrenaline flooding my veins and register how truly out of my depth I was with this man, his nostrils flared and he released me.
“Leave the app on your phone,” he ordered, stepping back and tossing the washcloth onto the counter. “Get out of that dress. You’re getting some rest.”
Desire exploded with the force of a tornadic waterspout, but I spoke from a place of deep-rooted fear. “I am fine.” I was not fine, and my dress was staying on.
With a quick scan of my face, lingering for a brief moment on my eyes as if looking for something I wasn’t saying, he then nodded once and looked past me toward the open bathroom door. “Wait here.”
Striding out into the master suite, I heard first one balcony door open and close, then the other. A moment later he returned, but his expression had changed to the one that gave nothing away.
“Come.” His order concise, his movements controlled, he didn’t offer his hand. This time, his palm landed on the small of my back and he ushered me into the bedroom. Scanning from port to starboard side, he walked me all the way to the huge bed I had never slept on before releasing me and turning toward the door.
It wasn’t until his hand was on the door handle that I found my voice. “Where are you going?”
Glancing back, his stark eyes took me in. “Downstairs so you can get some sleep. I’ll make sure no one comes up here.”
The weight of the day, of my life, my future, it all collided and landed with a crushing heaviness. Instead of embracing a freedom I had only ever dreamt of, I was suddenly staring down the barrel of a loaded gun as anxiety splintered what little confidence I had left, slicing open the jarring reality of my plan.
I was alone.
And I had been wrong.
I wasn’t leaving my old life to discover a new, improved version of myself.
I wasn’t running so I could be free.
I was merely escaping one prison and replacing it with another.
Except this one carried two-hundred-and-three-thousand liters of fuel and floated.
I was still the same woman.
I was still punishing myself with impossible ideals, outdated beliefs and the guilt of familial responsibilities that no longer mattered.
Only now I was doing it while knowing what a hazel-eyed Navy SEAL looked like when he said he wanted to kiss me.
A Navy SEAL that was about to walk away.
I panicked.
“Please.” For the second time with this man, I begged. “Stay.”
Zulu
Still in her dress, still vertical, she begged. “Please. Stay.”
Fucking fate.
I wanted a piece of this woman so damn bad, I was no longer a SEAL or merc for hire. I was a man looking at a woman who’d asked for the one thing I couldn’t give. Four fucking letters strewn together, making a mockery of my entire adult life.
Stay.
I hadn’t stayed in one goddamn place for the last nineteen years. Which was exactly why I needed to walk away from this woman. I couldn’t give her what she needed, what she deserved. I wasn’t going to walk away from AES, and she wasn’t going to park this boat in one location for longer than it took to resupply and refuel.
I said what I should. “Not a good idea, sweetheart.”
She stared at me like I was speaking a foreign language, and fuck I wanted to give her what she was asking for. But I’d been paying attention to every reaction of her body around mine, and Echo’d been right about one thing. This woman hadn’t been touched. I didn’t know what the fuck went on with her and Taralas, but I was betting everything I had it wasn’t sex.
She held her own, she stood the line, but if I got near her, she fucking flushed.
When I touched her, she shook.
Innocence and purity poured off this woman when it was just the two of us. I knew next to nothing about her, but I sure as fuck knew she was raw, frightened, and inexperienced with men. Not to mention freshly widowed. Everything I should avoid. But Jesus, I didn’t want to evade this woman. I wanted to dominate the hell out of her innocence and break down those walls she was so desperate to hold on to. Christ, what I wouldn’t do for one damn taste of her innocence.
The problem was, I knew myself. No way in hell would I leave her alone if I stayed.
Another second in that bathroom and I would’ve taken what I wanted. Walking away right now was the right thing to do, but fuck.
Blowing through the tension in the room like the door kicker I’d been trained to be, I winked. “Never had a better offer though, beautiful.”
Her expression didn’t change. “I was not asking you to sleep with me.”
Yes, she was. Whether she realized it or not, her body responded to every one of my dominate commands. “Sweetheart, we both know what’ll happen if I park it next to you right now. I’m not built for comfort.” Fighting, fucking and piloting. I did adrenaline rushes. Always had. The fact that this woman was bringing out a possessive as hell, protective side that made me want to be every-damn-thing she needed right now didn’t change the facts. What she was asking and what would happen if I stayed in this suite were two different animals.
Her chest rose with an inhale, then the mask she’d had before she’d cried it off slid back into place, but not before I saw what she was trying to hide. “I’m sure you’re built for many things, Mr. Silas. Goodnight.” She turned her back on me.
Goddamn it.
Letting go of the door, I walked back into the room. “All right, sweetheart. Message received.”
Her head whipped toward me. “I did not give you any messages, I said goodnight.”
“I read between the lines.” Stopping in front of the seating area, my eyes on hers, I shucked my suit jacket and tossed it on the back of the couch.
Glancing at my shoulder holster, she watched me unbutton my shirt cuffs. “I can assure you, there was no hidden meaning behind my comment.”
I rolled my sleeves up. “I’m staying.”
Her gaze fixed on my arms, her cell still locked in her hands like it could protect her, she didn’t say shit.
Tossing my wallet and keys on the coffee table, I unclipped my Benchmade Bugout Knife from the left side of my belt. “You got a nighttime routine, sweetheart, have at it.”
“Routine?” she asked, staring at me as I set my knife down next to my other shit.
Purposely choosing that moment to pull out my cell and check for any updates from November as well as quickly scan the meager original background check he’d run on her, I focused on the screen and aimed for recon. “Food, drink, something to get comfortable in, meds, lights, checking the locks—whatever you do before you go to bed.”
She took the bait. “We’re at sea. I do not need to check the locks, and I do not take any medications. The crew will handle the lights on the lower decks when they turn in.”
Filing away the fact that she wasn’t on birth control, I fucked with my phone for a few more seconds before sliding it back into my pocket and giving her my attention. Then I purposely let my gaze drag the length of her dress. “You going to sleep in that?”
“Are you going to sleep with your gun?”
Every fucking night. Force of habit and self-preservation. First on the Teams, now in this career, you never knew what was coming at you. No easy day. “Already told you, sweetheart, I’m not sleeping.”
She dropped the façade and frowned. “Why?”
“Because I said I wouldn’t.” Until I knew why her entire crew’s backgrounds were wiped, I didn’t trust shit.
“Then neither am I.” She made for the couch.
I was quicker.
“No, you’re not.” Intercepting her halfway, I picked her up.
To her credit, she stiffened, but she didn’t take a swing at me or cry out.
“You, Miss Bahar, are taking a load off.” I set her on her bed, but I didn’t immediately back off. Plucking her cell from her hands, I dumped it on her nightstand. “You need anything? Water? Something else to wear?” A six-foot-three SEAL who’d dominate the fuck out of her?
Not making eye contact, she sat against the headboard and crossed her ankles and her arms. Then the detached tone in her voice reengaged, this time with a little attitude. “No, thank you.”
Fucking sexy. I liked it. Which only made this more dangerous for her. “Let me know if that changes.” I didn’t chase women. Never had reason to. If I had to work for it, it meant a woman was looking for more than I was willing to give. But with this woman? Jesus, I wanted to work for it.
Walking the perimeter of the suite, checking the closets and bathroom, locking the door, securing the sliders to the balconies, I hit the lights. Using the ambient illumination from the moon, aiming for the long end of the couch that faced the door and bed, I tried not to think about what the hell this would look like between us past a single night because it wasn’t fucking pretty.
It wasn’t even feasible.
I wasn’t on the Teams anymore, but I was still globetrotting and chasing down tangos. She was cruising the high seas on a mission to evade. There was no commonality in our objectives. Except my cock hadn’t gotten the memo, and neither had her wandering eyes.
Pretending like she hadn’t been watching me the whole damn time I cleared the suite, she sat unmoving, facing forward.
Settling in, I kicked my legs up. “That’s not sleeping, sweetheart.”
“You can lead a horse to water—”
“But you can’t make him drink,” I finished the bullshit line for her. “Yeah, I get the sentiment, woman. But there’s no percentage in your stubbornness tonight. Close your eyes and rest. I’m on watch.”
For a full thirty seconds, she didn’t move or speak.
Then she turned on her side and pulled her legs up. Tucking her hands under head as she faced me, she dropped the attitude. “Is this what you do?”
“Watch beautiful women sleep?” I chuckled. “No.” I didn’t spend the night with any women. I fucked and left.
Staring at me in the dark, she didn’t say anything.
I seized the opportunity. “Why a boat?”
“Where do you live?” she countered.
Old habits surfacing, it was on the tip of my tongue to lie. I never told women where I lived, and I sure as fuck didn’t take them home. Now I was wondering what a dark-eyed exotic beauty would think of my place. “Miami.”
“In a home?”
I took note of how she said home instead of house. “I have two places,” I admitted.
“Why two?”
Fuck, who was grilling who here? “One I needed, one I wanted. You never answered my question.”
“The Solace is more practical than living in an airplane, and it can go almost anywhere. Which home did you need?”
I smiled. “Did they teach you interrogation tactics at Harvard?”
“No.” Her voice quieted. “I learned that from my father.”
“He interrogated you?”
She repositioned her head to stare at the ceiling. “In a sense, I suppose. He liked to know where I was and who I was with at all times.”
I took the in. “What’d your father do?” November’s background on her had exactly two fucking words on him. Father, exporter.
“He was a partner in an exporting company.”
Choosing my words purposely, I fished. “Quite an inheritance your parents left you.”
“Quite,” she agreed with no further intel.
I let it go for now. “Well, I’d say you can’t fault a father for wanting to protect his daughter through any means necessary, but yours married you off to Taralas.” I didn’t give a shit he was dead, her father didn’t get a pass from me. I faulted the fuck out of him for handing her over to that asshole Taralas and his sons.
“You knew Konstantinos,” she stated with zero intonation.
“Knew and despised.”
Merely nodding, she came back full circle. “Which is the home you needed?”
“Nice segue, sweetheart. You may have missed your calling on the whole lawyer route.”
“I have no desire to be an attorney.”
“Then why study law?”
“It wasn’t my choice.”
Jesus. Nothing like her solemn statement to drill home how I’d taken for granted every career choice I’d made for myself. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“It is what it is. Why did you need the one home?”
There it was again. Home. Her English was flawless, so it was either purposeful or subconscious. Either way, the urge to protect this woman was only growing by the minute, right along with the giant fuck you fate was throwing at me. Dozens of clients in the queue, critical assignments and fucking K&Rs popping up every damn week, AES was exploding. I didn’t have time for this conversation, let alone half the things I wanted to do to this woman.
Focusing up, I gave her more personal intel than I’d ever given any woman. “AES relocated their main headquarters from New York to Miami. Short on time, I picked up an oceanfront penthouse. View’s good, but it wasn’t my first choice, thus the second property. Waterfront acreage. Eventually, it’ll have a house on it.” And an airstrip. Once I stood still long enough to pick a fucking floor plan and give the go-ahead for the build.
“You prefer land over oceanfront?”
“Asks the woman floating on her two-hundred-and-thirty-eight-foot super yacht.” My half laugh was short on humor and rich with irony. “At the risk of perjuring myself, I decline to comment.”
“This is not a court of law.” She looked back at me. “You said yacht.”
“I did.”
She stared a beat. “You remembered her length.”
“I remember everything you say.”
Her voice dropped to a whisper as she looked away from me. “Prophetic.”
“Not a prophet, sweetheart.”
I never gave a damn what women thought of me. But this woman? I fucking gave a damn, and I didn’t want her putting me on a pedestal. I’d earn her trust, one way or another, but I didn’t want her under any disillusion. I wasn’t Ivy League. My pedigree was Trident.
Time to end this conversation. “Close your eyes and get some rest.”
Parisa
“Close your eyes and get some rest.” Zane gave the command like he had the others, with dominant authority.
