The Lost Seal: A Seal Romance

by Bell, Victoria

“Well it wouldn’t be the first job you’ve stolen out from others, would it, Mr. Buckley. Have a good afternoon, gentlemen. Remember, six o’clock tomorrow night, Mr. Buckley.”

  The ride across Venetian Way was completely silent, each man lost in their own thoughts.

  “They can’t do this, can they? Legally I mean?” Aaric finally choked to Vince, but the lawyer seemed shell-shocked by the news.

  “I will find out everything I can,” he promised. “But with the upset in immigration laws under the new administration, they may be onto something if they declare you a threat to the nation.”

  “That is horseshit, and they know it!” Aaric exploded. “There has to be a way out of it!”

  “If there is, I will find it,” Vince assured him as Carter pulled up to his villa in South Beach. “Leave it with me, Aaric.”

  “And what the hell am I supposed to do in the meantime?” he snapped. “Take a nap? Have a drink?”

  Vince paused, his hand on the lever of the door.

  “You might want to act as if this is your last day in Miami, yes,” he answered seriously. “I don’t think they would have called you out there unless they intended to go through with it. They didn’t ask for anything in return. Someone wants you gone, Aaric and if you are to stay, I am going to have my work cut out for me. There is a strong possibility you are heading back to the UK tomorrow night. You better face that.”

  Vince exited the car, slamming the door behind him with finality and Aaric sat, his mind whirling as Carter pulled the town car away from the house.

  “Home, sir?” Carter asked, watching his boss in the rear-view mirror. Aaric nodded miserably.

  I have built my entire life in this shitty country, he thought furiously. If they ask me to leave, I will leave with nothing.

  He tried to remind himself that money was transferable but there was nowhere like Miami, nowhere like his quaint sanctuary on Fisher Island. It had taken him years to build up what he had, to find the spot where he was sure he wanted to die.

  And that smug son of a bitch is trying to rip it all away from me.

  Aaric knew his problem lay much deeper than simply that of an ICE agent in Miami.

  This had been brewing for months, hitting the fan within the past few weeks when a whistleblower had outed some of his less than ethical business practices.

  Still, nothing toed the line of domestic terrorism, and he knew that such language was only being thrown around to ensure he was elegantly shipped aside without a vote.

  I will not go down without a fight, Aaric thought furiously. And I will not be on a plane tomorrow night. Agent Dane will have to ship my ashes across the pond first.

  The question became how. How could he manage to dodge his deportation in twenty-four hours?

  By the time the ferry landed on Fisher Island, Aaric was sure he had an answer.

  “Oh!”

  The laughter was excessive and genuine, and Aaric stared at her imploringly for a long minute, waiting for her to catch her breath.

  As she looked up, her jade green eyes wet with tears, she struggled to breathe.

  “You – “Lilyanne gasped. “You’ve lost your fucking mind!”

  Aaric felt his fists clench and he rose from her leather sofa, grinding his teeth.

  “It’s not a real marriage, Lil,” he snapped. “And I will make it worth your while.”

  “There is not enough money in the world which would make marrying you worth my while, Aaric,” she retorted, wiping her mascara-streaked cheeks. “Not to mention the arrest that would go along with it. Are you insane? How dare you ask me to do this?”

  “I dare because I am about to be deported, you heartless shrew,” he yelled. “What else would you have me do?”

  Lilyanne peered at him, her smirk plastered upon her lovely face as she shook her head.

  “Oh, I dunno, Aaric. Maybe, just maybe, do the right thing for once and go back to England until Vincent sorts this out.”

  He stared at her balefully for a long moment.

  This was a stupid idea, he thought, angry with himself and his secretary.

  “Anyway, you dumb ass, what would I tell my fiancé? Oh, by the way, honey, we can get married in two years after I divorce my boss? You really are a self-centered asshole, Aaric,” Lilyanne yelled after him, but he was already slamming the door to her condo.

  There are other women, he thought, forsaking the elevator and taking the stairs twenty stories down to the street. He needed the exercise to calm his racing heart.

  Maybe I should ask Ilona.

  The thought filled him with dread, but as he continued down the steps laboriously, he could not think of another unmarried woman whom he could ask.

  Any of the debutants I know would tell their fathers, and the news would only excavate the scandal facing Cornerstone. I will no doubt be trapped into remaining married to any of the socialites I know. I have no other option. I must ask Ilona or head back to England. Once I get back across the Atlantic, returning is going to take some skill. No, I can’t leave. I have to call Ilona. Tonight.

  He would have Vince draft an emergency prenup, and he could marry the escort in Miami Beach before morning. He should be able to find a twenty-four-hour chapel in the party town.

  My citizenship and paperwork will come through in a couple of years, and I can divorce her immediately. It will work out fine.

  He cringed at the thought of having the trashy blonde under his roof for one hundred and four weeks, but he could not think of another plan.

  When I get home, I will call Vince and see if he has had any luck. If not, I will send for Ilona. She will do it for five grand and a two-year supply of vodka, I’m certain.

  He hailed a water taxi and glanced at his diamond studded Rolex. It was already nine thirty.

  Time is already flying by. I have to Google an all-night wedding chapel in Miami Beach, talk to Vince, get the prenup. What else do I need?

  The entire concept of marriage was so foreign to Aaric; he had no idea where to start.

  He was a confirmed bachelor, not because he was gay but because he did not see the purpose in sharing his wealth with an insipid, greedy woman. It was easy enough to rent company when the mood struck him, and it would be much better for his finances in the long run.

  This will be money well spent, he assured himself. After all, he liked Ilona enough. He hired her often. Two years of seeing her straight would likely turn him celibate for a time afterward, so it balanced out economically.

  I will look up what I need to ensure that I have an ironclad marriage tomorrow by six o’clock.

  As the taxi docked directly behind his property, Aaric threw the driver a couple of twenty-dollar bills before scurrying onto the dock, suddenly very excited.

  Sod off, Agent Dane, he thought gleefully, stealing his way into the back of the house. You can take your cocky face and shove it up your arse. And you can tell your superior; whomever arranged for this that you dropped the ball. I cannot wait to see the look on your face then.

  As he entered, he froze as he saw a shadow in the unlit hall.

  “Hello?” he called out, the umbra stopped.

  “Oh. You startled me,” Elena replied, stepping forward to flip on the hallway light. “Why are you creeping about in the dark like a burglar? Are you itching to get shot?”

  Aaric could not move, and he stood staring at Elena as if hypnotized.

  Getting shot would keep me in Florida until I healed, he reasoned, but that was not truly what was going through his mind as he stared at the dark eyed beauty.

  “Why are you staring at me like that?” she demanded. “Do you need something?”

  She would be perfect! She already lives in the house. It wouldn’t upset anything at all, and no one would ever know the difference. I have to marry Elena!

  Yet as Aaric watched the defiant brunette narrow her intense dark eyes in suspicion, he knew that getting her to agree was going to take slightly more than a slight cajoling an
d offer of money.

  “Can you make me a coffee?” he finally asked, and Elena continued to watch him for a moment, unsure.

  “Okay…”

  She turned slowly, her peripheral vision still upon him and Aaric willed himself to think.

  What is her Achilles heel? What will it take for her to say yes to this?

  Aaric retreated into his study and closed the door.

  What do you know about Elena? What does she like? What does she want?

  To his horror, Aaric realized he knew absolutely nothing about the woman who had lived in his house for seven years.

  Oh my God! I can’t even remember her last name!

  A panicked sweat broke out over his forehead, and he flipped open his laptop, his fingers working furiously as he sought out his employee files.

  When he found Elena’s, he swallowed, seeing that there was absolutely nothing of any personal relevance in her file.

  She walked into the study without knocking, and Aaric closed the screen, turning to look at her.

  “I made sure it was cool enough that you don’t hurt yourself,” Elena told him condescendingly, placing the coffee cup at the edge of his desk. It was just out of his reach. He choked back a scowl and forced a smile onto his face, rising to reach for the cup.

  “Elena, why don’t you have a seat,” he offered genially. “Maybe get yourself a cup of coffee. Do you like coffee?”

  She stood stalk still, peering at him with consternation.

  “Are you firing me?” she asked bluntly.

  Aaric’s face went pale.

  “No! No, of course not! How long have you worked for me? Five years now?”

  “Almost seven,” she sighed, and Aaric was suddenly embarrassed, realizing that he had literally just read that information in her file.

  “No, I just thought that we have never really had a chance to talk and I thought it would be nice.”

  “Nice?” Elena echoed, a dubious expression on her face. She made no move to sit.

  “Like, I mean, tell me about yourself,” Aaric pleaded, hating the sound of desperation in his voice but he could not stop himself. He needed her to agree to the arrangement.

  “Look, Mr. Buckley, I thought we were past this,” she sighed, shaking her head. “I am not going to sleep with you. I appreciate you waited five years to try again, but it isn’t going to happen.”

  Aaric’s gray eyes widened substantially, and before he could stop himself, he rose to his feet shaking his head.

  “I don’t want to sleep with you, Elena. I want to marry you.”

  Chapter Four

  Elena had not slept. She lay in bed, tossing and turning, wondering if she was losing her mind.

  Marry him? Can I marry him?

  Like everyone else, she was aware of the legal troubles facing Cornerstone, but they had little to do with her.

  She had always known that Aaric Buckley’s business practices were sketchy. He was a billionaire, after all. She would be naïve to believe that his wealth was acquired honestly and through altruistic means.

  But Elena had never paid much mind to the workings of the company or its politics. It had never affected her paycheck, and she really had not given much thought to her boss but to give him a hard time in whichever subtle ways she could.

  The proposal had been the last thing she had expected, and while she had tried to laugh it off, it had affected her in the deepest part of her core.

  “It would strictly be a business arrangement,” he told her quickly as if he read the stricken expression on her face. “A marriage of convenience.”

  “Convenience to you,” she snapped. “How the hell is that convenient to me?”

  “I will make it worth your while, and you wouldn’t have to work anymore,” he told her and Elena could read the desperation on his face.

  “Mr. Buckley, you could marry any unsuspecting girl you want. I would think a man with your…means would want to settle down with a woman more in his league.”

  “Elena, I am going to be deported,” he told her earnestly and she understood at once.

  There is it, she thought, finally sinking into a wing chair across from him. He seemed to relax as she sat, falling back into his own high back leather chair.

  “Why? When?” she demanded.

  “Why is a long story. It’s the when which concerns me,” he sighed. “I am expected to be on a plane out of the country at eight thirty tomorrow evening.”

  “Unless you are married to a US citizen,” Elena finished. He nodded, making a steeple of his fingers. To his credit, he had the shame to look down at the desk as a heavy silence fell upon them.

  “What are you proposing then – I mean, aside from marriage?” Elena asked tightly.

  How can you even be considering this? She asked herself furiously. It is a federal offense, and you loathe this asshole.

  Yet Elena knew it went much deeper than that.

  She would lose her job and her home if Aaric was sent back to Europe indefinitely. Without her handsome pay, her parents would suffer, and she could not bear to think of what would happen to them without her steady flow of dollars into their bank accounts.

  “Of course, I will pay you well for agreeing to this,” he told her. “You will live here as my wife until the paperwork comes through, but that can take two years.”

  “I don’t need to stop working,” Elena told him quickly. “What else would I do?”

  Aaric shrugged, shooting her a glance.

  “Anything you want,” he told her quietly. “You could go to school, start a business…”

  He trailed off as Elena felt her palms grow sweaty.

  Seriously. He’s offering you an opportunity of a lifetime here. But at what cost? Two years will fly by like nothing, and you will have a degree or a business to show for it.

  “After the divorce, I will ensure you are taken care of,” he urged, seeing that she was considering the offer.

  “How much are you willing to give me?” she asked bluntly and Aaric seemed taken aback by the question.

  “How much do you want?”

  “Two million.”

  He balked at the figure, his smoky eyes narrowing angrily.

  “This isn’t a shakedown, Elena. This is a business deal. I am offering you a life of luxury for the rest of your days if you agree to this.”

  “It’s business which will require a two-million-dollar investment,” she told him. “And no one can know about it – the marriage or the money.”

  Aaric’s face turned pale and then crimson.

  “Because I am an embarrassment to you?” he demanded, and Elena wondered if she had hurt his feelings and almost laughed.

  “Because it is a sham and there is no reason to involve anyone else in it,” she replied instead.

  He considered her words for a long while before nodding.

  “I accept those terms,” he told her. “But we have to get married tonight.”

  Elena shook her head and stood up.

  “I am not sure,” she told him.

  “Are you playing a game with me?” he roared. “This is my life we’re talking about!”

  She slammed her palms against the desk and glared at him.

  “It’s mine too, in case you’ve forgotten,” she yelled back. He stiffened as her words rang through him and backed down.

  “You’re right. I apologize, but I want to remind you that time is of the essence. I have a car coming to pick me up tomorrow evening at six o’clock. If you choose not to do it, I will have to find someone else who will.”

  “I understand,” she replied. “I will let you know as soon as I have decided.”

  She rushed to her room, locking herself in and realized she was trembling.

  Two million dollars will ensure that my parents are taken care of. It will ensure that mom is okay once dad is gone. I can find an expensive retirement home for her, one where they wait on her hand and foot. It will be good for them. Nothing has to change. We a
lready live under the same roof, and you’re just tacking another two years onto your sentence. You can do this and come away better for it.

  She wondered what was holding her back, why there was a voice in her head screaming “NO!”

  It didn’t matter; she had already made up her mind when he had agreed to the money.

  After two years, you can walk away from that pompous ass and start a new life somewhere near mom. You can spend more time with Lorenzo and the girls. It will be good for everyone. And you’ll never get caught. How can they prove that you haven’t been together? Lots of rich guys bang their maids.

  It wasn’t quite dawn when Elena crept toward Buckley’s suite at the far end of the house.

  From inside the room, she could hear classical piano music filtering through, and she knocked lightly.

  He didn’t respond so she pushed her way into the airy bedroom and stopped, watching in awe.

  Her employer was seated at his baby grand piano, his hands fluttering wondrously over the ivory, lost in his own mind as he hammered out Tchaikovsky fluidly and without error.

  Suddenly, as if he sensed her standing there, he stopped and whipped his head around to stare at her.

  “What are you doing in here?” he demanded sharply. Elena was momentarily stung by his words, but she forced a caustic smile on her face.

  “Well I guess you better get used to me in your bedroom if I’m going to be your wife,” she replied sarcastically.

  She watched as his eyes registered all signs of relief and gratitude before shadowing again.

  “Are you sure about this, Elena because once it’s done, I don’t want to hear your caterwauling that you regret it or that - “

  “If you’re trying to talk me out of it, Mr. Buckley, you’re doing a good job,” she interjected. “Let’s just get this over with while you’re still on American soil, shall we?”

  Aaric rose slowly from the gleaming piano bench and started toward her slowly. When he stood at her face to face, he extended his palm.

  “We have a deal then?” he asked, and Elena realized for the first time that his British accent was quite charming. Until that moment, it had only annoyed her.

  “We have a deal,” she agreed, accepting his outstretched hand. It was the first time she had ever laid a willing hand on Aaric Buckley, and she was surprised at how warm was his hand.