My Fake Fiancé : Navy SEAL Romance, Standalone, Book 3 of Guilty Series (The Guilty Series )

by Odette Stone

  “Let me help,” I tried.

  “Got it covered.”

  “Well, thanks for dinner.”

  “My pleasure.”

  I excused myself to wash my hands and put on fresh lip gloss. I stared at my blond reflection. I wanted this man. That kiss against the bedroom door had held so much promise.

  We were both sober, which meant one thing. A ripple of excitement coursed through me. I tossed my lip gloss back into my purse and turned to leave. A thick masculine arm wrapped around my neck, pulling me into a choke hold from behind.

  Oh my God!

  I frantically clawed at the arm, as my perpetrator half dragged, half propelled me to one of the stalls. The nauseating smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol burned my nose.

  So much air cut off from my throat that my scream sounded like a wheeze. He pushed my face against the cold metal wall of the stall. His big, bulky body pressed against mine. Terror blinded me.

  “Please,” I rasped. “Don’t hurt me.”

  Something cold pressed against my throat. I felt a pinch and then something warm, oozed down my neck. My own blood. It took my brain a few seconds to process that the tip of a knife was pressed against the skin of my throat. Cutting me.

  “Tell daddy dearest to drop out, or someone is going to get hurt,” he snarled.

  I nodded frantically. Terrified. The metal of the knife dug deeper, and I immediately stopped nodding.

  “Are you going to tell him that?”

  “Yes!”

  “Don’t turn around.” He lowered the knife. “If you see my face, I’ll kill you.”

  My eyes squeezed shut. A lone tear trickled down my cheek. “Okay.”

  He stepped away from my body, and I heard the sound of the heavy bathroom door swing open, then gently bump shut. I staggered to the mirror above the sink.

  In shock, I stared at my reflection. A lone rivulet of blood trickled down my throat and created a red stain on my white blouse. With trembling hands, I pumped out a paper towel and tried to blot it.

  My face was a white mask with dark and prominent eyes. I must have walked back to the table, but I didn’t remember moving. Porter stood, grabbed my shoulders, and took in every detail.

  “What the hell?”

  “He’s gone,” I croaked. My throat closed so tight, I was surprised I could breathe.

  Porter’s nostrils flared in rage. His high cheekbones colored with emotion. He appraised the restaurant, suddenly a soldier, assessing all threats. “What did he look like?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Did you see his face?”

  “No.”

  “Color of his hair?”

  “No. Nothing. He approached me from behind.” I took a deep breath. “He’s gone, Porter.”

  He turned like he was headed for the restroom.

  Terrified of being left alone, I begged, “Please don’t leave me.”

  He focused back on me. Two warm hands—so soothing, so safe—touched my neck. “I want to see your cut, okay?”

  Eyes wide, I let him pull the paper towel away.

  His eyes studied my wound. “Your cut isn’t too deep.” Grey eyes clashed with mine. “Did he touch you anywhere else?”

  I shook my head, fighting tears.

  I will not lose it here.

  I will not cry.

  “I’m going to call the cops.”

  “No,” my voice came out strong. Stronger than I felt. “No police.” Surrounding patrons watched us with interest. “Not here.”

  He put his hands up, cupping my face, his eyes filled with a flash of rage that would scare the average person. “I’m going to kill the fucker who did this, okay?” he promised.

  I shook my head. I was going to lose all my composure if he kept this up. “Can you stop being so nice? It’s going to make me cry.”

  He put a protective arm around me and then started to steer me out of the restaurant. “I’m taking you to the hospital. No arguments.”

  Chapter 28

  I sat on the bed in the Emergency room while Porter stood guard beside my bed. He looked lethal, eyeballing every nurse or doctor who dared approach me. Even though my wound had stopped bleeding, the doctor still thought it warranted one stitch. I also received a tetanus shot, and now we waited for the police to come and question me.

  “I’m here for the stabbing,” a female voice sounded.

  “Bed three,” a nurse answered.

  I turned toward the voices and watched as Detective Christensen approached us. Out of every detective in the city, she had to show up? Seriously? Porter stiffened beside me.

  She paused when she saw the two of us. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” she spoke slowly, a small smile on her face.

  Porter made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a growl. I didn’t speak. We both watched as she, with deliberate movements, pulled a pad of paper and a pencil out of her pocket.

  “My name is Detective Christensen.” She was enjoying this. “And your name is?”

  “Beth Stirling.”

  “You look pretty good for being stabbed, Beth Stirling.” She eyeballed me. “Where were you injured?”

  I pointed at my neck.

  She leaned in and took a closer look. “I’ve had paper cuts that were worse than that.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Never mind. Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

  I explained everything I could, my voice wobbling dangerously at times, as I remembered the details of my attack.

  She chewed on the end of her pencil and checked her notes. “So, you didn’t see your perpetrator, and he didn’t say anything other than to ask your father to drop out.”

  “He wasn’t asking. He was threatening!”

  “Drop out of what?”

  “My father is running for mayor.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “So, do you have any enemies?”

  “No.”

  “Any drug deals gone bad? Any angry dealers you owe money too?”

  “I don’t do drugs,” I said tersely.

  “Says the person who was caught with almost half a pound of cocaine in her purse a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Those charges were dropped.”

  “Of course. Anything else you’d like to add?”

  I glanced up at Porter, who stood there with his legs wide and his arms crossed over his formidable chest. The look he gave Detective Christensen was unnerving.

  “I received a threatening letter last week. The envelope was filled with big, dead beetles.”

  “Dead beetles?” Amusement laced her voice.

  I glanced up at Porter. “This is bullshit.”

  “I agree.”

  Detective Christensen rolled her eyes. “Fine. Do you have this alleged letter still?”

  “Yes.”

  With boredom, she handed me a card. “When you get the chance, bring it down to the station.” I didn’t speak. Suddenly, I felt completely exposed and helpless.

  The police didn’t believe I was in danger.

  The drive home started out in silence. Porter reminded me of the emotionless robot I had first met at Theo’s christening.

  “You know, when I was in that washroom, I feared for my life.”

  His jaw tightened.

  “I wasn’t sure if he was going to slice my neck open or gut me like a fish. I didn’t know if he was going to assault me.” Tears blurred my eyes, but anger hardened my voice. “And I don’t appreciate anyone insinuating that I was overreacting.”

  “You’re not.”

  “You’re the only one who’s taking this seriously.” I wiped a tear from my cheek. “Thank you for not making me feel stupid.”

  His hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I’m sorry I let that happen to you.”

  What? Why was he blaming himself for this situation?

  “You didn’t let anything happen to me.”

  “That should have never happened on my watch.”
<
br />   “Porter, this wasn’t your fault.”

  “I should have walked you to the washroom.”

  “You’re not my bodyguard.”

  Grey eyes flashed at me. “I’m supposed to fucking protect you, and I failed tonight.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “Please.”

  “Things are going to change. We’ve been half-assing this, and going forward, things are going to be different.”

  What that meant, I had no idea, but I could tell by his tone that it would make no difference to argue. “Okay.”

  At the apartment, he made me stand at the front door while he walked through. When he was done, I headed straight for a long hot shower. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed, hopefully with Porter beside me.

  When I finished, I found him in the kitchen, standing at the island, with a fierce if not frustrated, look on his face.

  “How was your shower?”

  “Good.”

  “You heading to bed?”

  I wanted to ask him to come sleep with me. Sex was the last thing on my mind, but tonight I’d definitely appreciate having a SEAL sleeping beside me. I opened my mouth to ask him exactly that when his phone, which laid on the counter between us, vibrated.

  A beautiful photo of Felicia flashed on the home screen. Felicia was calling Porter. Could my night get worse? It was stupid, but after the night I’d had, it felt like a betrayal.

  While I felt all these stupid feelings for the man before me, he was getting calls from someone else. I had to remind myself that they'd been together for years before I came on the scene. I was the interloper. And Porter and I were only supposed to be friends.

  I lifted my chin and gave him a steady look. “I’ll give you some privacy.”

  “Beth.”

  That word held so much meaning, but I didn’t know him well enough to be able to interpret. I walked into my bedroom and shut the door. I needed to remember that this man wasn’t mine.

  He felt like he was mine. He lived with me. He kissed me. We were fake engaged, and he made wild promises about protecting me, but the fact was he remained emotionally entangled with Felicia.

  She was working overtime to get him back. Even though he seemed somewhat indifferent to her overtures, it didn’t mean it was over between them. He may have been avoiding her, but he also wasn’t exactly shutting her down.

  I needed to remember he wasn’t emotionally available. Which made him exactly the kind of guy I typically dated.

  The kind of guy that broke my heart.

  Chapter 29

  “You’re going to talk to your dad tonight?” Porter asked me again.

  “Yes, I promise.” I refrained from rolling my eyes.

  We had gone to blows over this a few times in the last week. He wanted to hunt my father down and tell him about the beetle letter and the attack in the bathroom. I knew how Dad operated. You couldn’t make him do anything. So, I left a few messages and now waited for him to call back. Despite my attempts to talk to him, Dad hadn’t returned any of my calls.

  Things between Porter and I had shifted. In the last week since my attack, Porter had taken it upon himself to become my personal bodyguard. He drove me to work, picked me up, and basically never left my side.

  The funny guy that I liked to banter with had been replaced with a dangerous soldier, who acted like we were under attack. He guarded me like it was his mission, and not once did he let his guard down. It comforted me, but it also left me confused. I mourned the loss of chemistry and sexual tension between us. Ever since my attack, Porter had been a completely different guy.

  There had been no more hot kisses, no more physical overtures.

  I shifted the conversation away from me. “So, have you talked to Felicia?”

  He glanced over at me. “No.”

  Of course not. He was too busy acting like my security detail to worry about his own life. I found myself constantly wondering what was happening between them. Did he still want to go back to her? Did he still have feelings for her?

  I pushed for some sort of clue from him by feigning indifference. “You know, you don’t have to worry about me. If you want to spend time with her, you can.”

  “I know.”

  Did he want to spend time with her?

  “What does that mean?” the question blurted out of me.

  His look held meaning. “I’m not a player.”

  “What does that mean?”

  We pulled into the parking lot of Bayswater.

  He turned off the engine, and his grey eyes rested on my face. “I’m a one-woman kind of guy.”

  He got out, leaving me reeling with that statement. I knew he was a one-woman kind of guy. But who was the woman - Felicia or me? Did he still want Felicia? Was he impatiently waiting for this nightmare to be over with so he could get back together with her?

  The hundred-person engagement party was in full swing when we walked in.

  Mom rushed up to me. “You wore the pink Chanel,” she admired me with approval. “That was my first choice.”

  Mom had left no less than three phone messages instructing me to wear this dress. I had been tempted to wear whatever the hell I wanted but decided it wasn’t worth the fight. My usual rebellion against Mom didn’t hold the same appeal it used to.

  “Of course.”

  “Well, you look simply gorgeous.” She tucked her arm into mine. “Come. There are so many people I want you to meet.”

  Meet. As in, be introduced for the first time. As in, I don’t know anyone at my own engagement party. I sighed and glanced back at Porter. Our eyes met. His expression matched my feelings - he was dreading tonight as much as I was. I let myself be pulled around by Mom.

  The party was a mind-numbing whirl of small talk and champagne. Mom laughed gaily with everyone, talked a hundred miles a minute, and always worked into the conversation a reminder of Dad’s upcoming election.

  “Where’s Dad?” I asked her when we had a moment alone.

  “His flight from Hong Kong was delayed, but he’s going to come straight here.”

  I made eye contact with Porter from across the room. Three men stood around him, talking, but he seemed indifferent to the conversation. Instead, his gaze watched me with such intensity, a shiver wracked my body. Beneath Porter’s exterior simmered a forcefulness, a ferocity that excited me. It awakened in me, a longing, a hunger, that I desperately wanted to explore.

  “Where are all the waiters with the hors-d’oeuvres?” Mom fussed, pulling my attention away from Porter. “I’m going to go find Roo. He needs to be on top of that.”

  I stood back, grateful for the small reprieve. My feet were killing me, and my cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

  “I see you’re still engaged,” a voice spoke low in my ear.

  My entire body stiffened. “Hello, Yates.” I didn’t bother hiding my sarcasm.

  He moved to stand beside me. “You’re making a big mistake.”

  I glanced across the room at Porter. He politely listened to an older man speak.

  “No. Marrying a cheating philanderer would have been a big mistake.”

  “I hear you ran into some trouble last week. Someone trying to warn you off?”

  I spun around and glowered at him. “How do you know that?”

  He shrugged. “I know way more than you think.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He downed the remained of the amber liquid in his glass. “Watch your back.” He walked away.

  Determined to find out what he knew, I started to follow him, but Roo appeared at my side, tugged on my arm, holding me back.

  “Not now, Roo.” I tried to shake him off.

  “The cake is about to come out.”

  “Fine,” I dismissed.

  “There’s someone in the kitchen who wants to speak to you. She’s causing a scene.”

  I paused. “Who?”

  “She’s not on the guest list, and she’s threatening to come out here and talk to you
in front of all these guests unless you go and talk to her.”

  I hesitated. Was it Traci? Did she have some sort of information?

  With one last frustrated look at Yates’ back, already halfway across the room, I sighed. “Fine, show me the way.”

  Roo led me through the double swinging kitchen doors. “When we bring out the cake, the media will take photos of you and Porter, so be sure to smile with your teeth.”

  We stepped into the bustling kitchen. The bright florescent lights burned my retinas. Kitchen staff in white aprons loaded trays of pastries. A monstrous, tiered cake sat on a cart, ready to be rolled into the party.

  “Where is she?” I searched the room for Traci.

  “Right there.” Roo pointed into the corner. “Who is she?”

  Felicia.

  Chapter 30

  She wore a plunging red dress that effortlessly showed off her killer assets. Her perfectly-tossed black hair hung down her back. Her beauty literally took my breath away.

  I didn’t look away from her as I addressed Roo. “Leave us.”

  “But,” Roo protested.

  My eyes narrowed on Felicia. “Now.”

  He drifted away from me to admonish the guys who were about the wheel the cake out. Felicia gave me a cold smile as I walked towards her. How exactly should I handle this?

  I graced her with a fake smile. “Hello, Felicia.”

  “You’re still engaged.”

  “Last time I checked. What are you doing here?”

  “I came to talk.”

  “To Porter? He’s right outside.”

  “I came to talk to you.”

  “Okay.” I lifted my hand up. “So talk.”

  “I told you to end your engagement with Porter.”

  This chick had a lot of nerve. Yes, my engagement was a charade, but she didn’t know that. Did she?

  “This is definitely a conversation you should be having with Porter, not me.”

  She stepped right up into my face. “He’s supposed to be with me.”

  The day we went to pick up his boxes, she had been so horrible to Porter. It’d pissed me off then, and it pissed me off now. “If he wanted to be with you, he’d be with you.”