The Wicked Billionaire--A Billionaire SEAL Romance

by Jackie Ashenden

  He was silent, but there was something moving in all that blue, a current of heat, though whether it was anger or something else she couldn’t tell. “What about you? Does that mean you should pay for it then?”

  The fear wrapped itself tighter around her, but she didn’t look away. “Maybe. Maybe if I went and talked to them, told them that—” She broke off on a gasp as his fingers clenched hard around hers all of a sudden.

  “No.” The word was flat and iron hard. “That will not be happening.”

  “So it’s okay for you to protect me, but I can’t protect you?”

  “I don’t need protection.”

  But she could see the way the shadows in his eyes flickered. There was a reason he was being stubborn about this and it wasn’t simply because he preferred being alone. And she was starting to get an idea of what that reason was.

  “Maybe you don’t need it,” she said quietly. “But you deserve it.”

  An expression rippled over his face then, too fast for her to get a good look at it, but she thought it might have been shock. He released her hands, turning sharply away, and she knew she should let him go. That if he wanted some distance she needed to give it to him.

  Yet he’d told her he wasn’t going to let her hide from him, and that went both ways. He wasn’t going to hide from her either.

  She reached out and grabbed his upper arm, curling her fingers around the taut, hard muscles of his biceps and holding on tight. “I know you’re trying very hard to cut yourself off. To keep yourself locked down. But you’re not five anymore, Lucas. You’re not thirteen either. You’re not going to pick up a lighter and burn everything down if you get mad.”

  He froze, his head turned away from her, the tension in his arm making it feel like she was holding on to a steel bar.

  Perhaps it was stupid to keep talking, to bring up the terrible, painful past he was trying to put behind him. But she’d said too much already and she couldn’t stop now.

  “You’re not going to hurt anyone and I think you know that too. So when are you going to stop punishing yourself for what you did as a kid? Because that’s what you’re doing. You’re cutting yourself off, shutting yourself down. Telling yourself that it’s because you like being alone, that you like the mental discipline of staying in control.” She gripped him tighter, feeling his muscles tense in preparation for pulling away. “But it’s not because you like it. It’s because you feel you don’t deserve anything more, anything better, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t move, standing there silently, as if he was merely waiting for her to let him go.

  You fucking idiot. You said too much and now you’ve gone and ruined it. Because it’s all about what you want, isn’t it?

  Yes, it was about what she wanted. And yes, perhaps it was selfish to push this with him. Yet she couldn’t seem to shut herself up.

  “But you do deserve it, Lucas,” she went on. “You do. You’re a good man and you care. You care a lot. I know you try so very hard to hide it, but I can see it anyway. Getting my paintings for me, listening to me talk about my dad, telling me that I’m b-beautiful. Even the fact that you’re here protecting me just because your father told you I was in danger is a sign that you care. Because you didn’t have to. You could have torn that letter up and let those assholes take me. Torture me—”

  He jerked away, breaking her grip with ease. Then his hands were on her hips and he was backing her up against the counter, surrounding her in the scent of clean male sweat and the spice that was all Lucas. His gaze was deep sapphire, full of anger and pain and guilt, all the emotions he hid from the rest of the world.

  But not her. He didn’t hide from her.

  “Don’t say those things.” The words were hoarse. “Don’t.”

  “Why not?” She put her hands over his where they gripped her hips, keeping that skin-to-skin contact. “I know what happened was terrible. It was awful. But you can’t live your life the way you are. Keeping people out and cutting yourself off from everything that makes it worth living.” This time it was her who reached up and cupped his beautiful face. Her turn to run her thumbs over the exquisite bone structure of his cheekbones and along the curve of his gorgeous mouth. “Don’t you think your mother would have wanted a better life for you than that?”

  Anger, pure and hot as a gas flame, leapt in his eyes. “You have no fucking idea what my mother would have wanted for me.”

  But she didn’t look away from him and she didn’t let go. If she wasn’t afraid of his passion she certainly wasn’t afraid of his anger. “Neither do you.”

  The look on his face twisted. “No. Because she died. Because of me.”

  Grace gripped him tighter. “Yes, she died. Coming to get you. Because she loved you. Because she wanted to save you. She loved you, Lucas. She wouldn’t want this for you.”

  “And you would know. Having had the best parents in the world.”

  He was trying to hurt her, an animal in pain lashing out. But she ignored the blow, let it glance off her. “Sure, my father was an asshole and my mother let him be one, but I know enough to understand that most parents want the best for their children.” Her throat closed up again, tighter this time. “They want them to be happy.”

  His eyes glittered, pain flashing bright. Then he bent and kissed her, fiercely and hard. And when he lifted his head, he said harshly, “I’ll call Wolf.”

  Then he pulled away and stalked out of the room.

  * * *

  Lucas went straight from the kitchen to the elevator and hit the button. The doors opened immediately, taking him down to the basement and his shooting range.

  He didn’t think. He went straight down the corridor, opening up the door, then shutting it hard behind him. Going into the armory, he opened up the cabinet with the pistols in it and chose one at random. Grabbing a pair of earmuffs, he then took up his position and emptied the entire clip into the target.

  Reloading, he did it again.

  What he really wanted was to be at an outdoor range, where he could grab his TAC-338 and settle down for a good, long shot. Where there was nothing but the target to focus on and the slow, deep-breathing exercises he practiced to get his heart rate down.

  Where there wasn’t a woman touching him with her warm fingers, looking up into his eyes and telling him things he didn’t want to hear. Such as how he needed to stop punishing himself. That he needed to let people in.

  That he needed to be happy.

  Lucas raised his pistol again, taking aim, squeezing the trigger. The shot hit exactly where he wanted it to, the way it always did.

  What the fuck did she know about being happy? It wasn’t as if she were happy herself or as if she weren’t cutting herself off too. She did the same thing he was doing in many ways. Denying herself what she wanted, because her father’s voice was still echoing in her head no matter what she said.

  She was a fine one to fucking lecture him about what he deserved and she had no right at all to tell him what his mother would have wanted for him.

  He shot off another round, the reports echoing despite his earmuffs.

  She’s right and you know it. That’s why you’re so fucking angry.

  Another squeeze on the trigger, and this time the bullet missed the target completely, burying itself in the wall behind it.

  Jesus. He never missed.

  Slowly, he realized his hand was shaking. Infinitesimally, but shaking all the same. Fuck.

  Ripping the earmuffs off his head, he threw them on the floor and slammed the pistol down on the counter in front of him. The smell of cordite hung heavy in the air, enough that it was usually a calming scent to him. But not now. Not today.

  No, she wasn’t right. She couldn’t be. He wasn’t a good man and he never had been, because he hadn’t been a good kid. He’d been a killer right from the start.

  His father had seen it and that’s why he’d told him the truth about his mother. If he’d been a good kid his father would have protecte
d him from it, wouldn’t he?

  Lucas put his hands flat to the counter and leaned on them, hanging his head down, his heartbeat too loud, too fast.

  Happiness. What was it? Those moments he’d had with her, those moments he’d let himself have. But he couldn’t anymore; he knew that now.

  Grace had told him she’d cared about him, and that was wrong. She shouldn’t. Because no matter what she said, he would hurt her as surely as picking up a match and torching the apartment. Because no matter what her feelings for him were, he couldn’t return them. He wouldn’t. And continuing on the way they were doing would only make it worse for her.

  She was creation. He was destruction. And it had to stop.

  It had to stop now.

  “Don’t you think your mother would have wanted a better life for you?”

  But no, he couldn’t think of his mother. It was too painful. Grace had crossed a line bringing her up again and his role in her death, and he couldn’t forgive that. The wound it had left in his soul was too deep and too raw. It wasn’t going to heal. All he could do was try to cut it out of him and hope the infection wouldn’t spread.

  His phone buzzed.

  Lucas glanced at it where he’d left it on the counter next to the pistol. It was Wolf.

  Lucas wanted to ignore it completely, but there was a part of him that wouldn’t let himself. That saw the fear in Grace’s eyes and instinctively wanted to ease it. Okay, so he couldn’t let himself feel for her, but he could at least make sure she wasn’t afraid.

  Reaching out, he picked up the phone, hitting the answer button before he could second-guess it. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “Hey,” Wolf said irritatedly, “you’re the one who was going to call me back, asshole.”

  “Consider this a callback then.”

  His brother grunted, clearly disapproving. “So what’s all this bullshit about de Santis and you going in to deal with him yourself? Oh, and you might want to fill me in on why you’re protecting that Grace chick.”

  Lucas didn’t want to, but he made himself. “Dad’s fucking letter. That’s what was in it. A mission to protect Grace. You remember Griffin Riley? She’s his widow.”

  Wolf muttered a curse. “What the fuck’s that got to do with Dad?”

  “Griffin was involved in some arms dealing. And I don’t need to tell you who was paying him to tout for business.”

  “Jesus. De Santis, right?”

  “Yes. After the letter I also got an e-mail with a file attached, and evidence in the file. There’s no doubt it was Griffin and that de Santis was paying him. The stupid asshole set up a deal, took the money, but the deal fell through, and then he died. And now there’s some asshole arms dealer called Oliveira who wants his money back and doesn’t care if Grace doesn’t have it.”

  Another curse. “So you’ve got a plan to get rid of him?”

  “I do. And no matter what Grace says, I can handle it myself.”

  “Hey, I’m not going to muscle in on your territory, bro. Chill.”

  There was a silence, both of them suddenly realizing the irony of Wolf having to tell Lucas to chill out.

  Christ, he was losing it. Grace wasn’t his territory, not anymore.

  “I’m going to pay de Santis a little visit.” Lucas tried to keep his voice level and cold. “Get him to deal with his mess and maybe I won’t take the evidence to the top brass. He won’t want to risk his company’s government contracts or a jail term.”

  Wolf didn’t say anything for a long moment. “Fuck, if Riley was dealing in this shit then de Santis must have some military contacts in his pocket. Riley wouldn’t have been able to do anything without a few people turning a blind eye.”

  It was true. Shit. Why hadn’t he thought of that himself? This threw a wrench in his plan. How could he take the evidence to his CO if he couldn’t trust that the guy wasn’t in de Santis’s pay? How could he trust anyone? Christ, this was bad. He couldn’t take an empty threat to de Santis.

  His free hand reached for the pistol on the counter in front of him and he picked it up, clenching his fingers around the grip unconsciously, the weight of the metal reassuring. “This is true.” His voice sounded weird, slightly hoarse.

  “I’m not going to ask if you’re okay,” Wolf said, annoyingly perceptive, which wasn’t usual for him. “But if you want me to make a few enquiries I’m happy to.”

  Enquiries being Wolf speak for “smacking some heads.”

  Lucas dearly wanted to tell him that he had everything under control, but that wasn’t something he could handle right now, not when he only had one more day before the assholes after Grace expected their money to be delivered to them.

  “You can’t live your life the way you are. Keeping people out and cutting yourself off from everything that makes it worth living.”

  He found himself snarling at the gun in his hand. Fuck, whether he wanted help or not, it looked like he wasn’t going to have a choice about it.

  “Fine,” he said, unable to keep the word as icy as he wanted it to be. “Do what you have to do. But I’ll need some trusted names within the next twenty-four hours.”

  “I’m on it.…” Wolf paused. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me about you and this Grace chick?”

  But Lucas was done. He didn’t respond, hitting the disconnect button, then throwing the phone back down on the counter. He’d never told his brothers what his father had revealed to him about his mother, and he wouldn’t. They didn’t need that shit in their heads, not when they had their own issues to deal with. He wasn’t going to tell them about Grace either.

  She was no one’s business but his.

  And soon she wasn’t even going to be his business.

  He put on his earmuffs, then shoved another clip into the handgun. Lifted it and aimed.

  No, not soon.

  Now.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lucas didn’t come up from the basement, leaving Grace pacing up and down in the long gallery in front of the rose window, feeling like shit.

  She should never have said anything to him. Should never have confronted him. Should never have told him she cared about him. Never revealed herself so completely.

  But she hadn’t been able to stop. Her worry for him was so sharp and not only for his physical safety. It was his emotional well-being that really concerned her, that really cut like a knife. He was so alone, so shut down. And it hurt. It hurt to see him like that. Especially when she knew now the man he was underneath that icy, frozen lake.

  Yet what could she do? He didn’t want to listen to her, couldn’t give up the survival mechanism he’d been using for so long. And it was a survival mechanism; she could see that. Like the way she’d refused to see the reality of her marriage to Griffin, telling herself everything was fine, that they were both happy when they weren’t. So she didn’t have to deal with the fact that some of it had been her fault. That her refusal to talk about anything, the way she treated Griffin more like a friend than a husband, was making him unhappy.

  A survival mechanism so she didn’t have to see that it wasn’t him who didn’t seem to care that much about her or even want her. It was her who didn’t want him and had never wanted him, not in the way a wife should want a husband.

  Being with Lucas had brought into sharp relief what had been missing from her marriage. Yes, she’d loved Griffin. But as a friend, not as a husband. What had been missing was her passion and she’d held that back, pouring it into her creativity, into her art, rather than giving it to him. Because she was scared of giving someone everything she was only to have him turn on her the way her father had.

  She stopped in the middle of the gallery and put her hands over her eyes.

  Maybe she should go downstairs and try to find Lucas, apologize for stepping over the line. Tell him she wouldn’t speak of it again, that perhaps they could pretend that conversation had never happened.

  And then what? You told him you cared a
bout him. He knows now. You can’t take it back.

  Her throat tightened.

  Stupid, so stupid. She felt like she was thirteen again and showing her father her drawings, her heart thumping with trepidation and terrible hope. Desperate for him to be the loving, supportive father he’d once been before the bitterness had set in.

  But of course he hadn’t. And the disappointment had been shattering.

  The elevator chimed and instantly her head came up, her hands dropping from her face.

  Lucas stepped out of the elevator, his expression as hard and as cold as she’d ever seen it. The ice man was in full control now.

  Her heart began to ache, the chill radiating from him almost palpable. God, she didn’t need to see his expression to know how badly she’d screwed up; she could feel it, like an icy wind blowing straight off the Arctic.

  “Lucas,” she began, desperate to make things right. “I’m sorry. I should never have—”

  “We need to stop.”

  His voice cut across her, the edge in it sharp and precise as a surgeon’s knife, and at first she didn’t quite understand what he was saying.

  “Stop? Stop what?”

  “We need to stop sleeping together.” His eyes glittered, all silver, all ice. “This … affair we’re having. It’s over, Grace.”

  In her head she could hear the sound of heavy drawing paper being ripped slowly in two. It felt oddly like her soul being torn right down the middle.

  She blinked, staring at him, trying to find even one sign of the intense, passionate man she knew lived behind that frosty silver gaze. But if he was there, there was no sign of him. “Oh,” she said huskily, trying to ignore the dull ache that throbbed just behind her breastbone. “But I thought that wasn’t going to happen until this situation is over.”

  “I changed my mind.” Lucas’s voice was flat. “The last part of my plan is going to need my full attention and I can’t afford a distraction now.”

  A distraction. So that’s what she was? That’s what she’d become?

  Oh come on. You knew this was going to come eventually. All he promised you was now. It’s you who made the mistake of caring about him.