Authors: Victoria Paige
Always Been Mine
ALWAYS BEEN MINE
By Victoria Paige
Copyright © 2014 Victoria Paige
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.
ISBN-13:
978-0-9891337-9-1
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, names, places, events, organization either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to any persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, places or locale is entire coincidental. The publisher is not responsible for any opinion regarding this work on any third-party website that is not affiliated with the publisher or author.
Cover Design by
Robin Ludwig Design Inc
.
,
http://www.gobookcoverdesign.com
Edited by: Hot Tree Editing
Synopsis:
Beatrice Porter swore she would never fall in love with a man like her father. For years she watched her mother self-destruct in bitterness, married to someone who only lived for his job. Gabriel Sullivan was such a man—a Navy SEAL, a man who put duty and country above all else. Yet falling in love with him was inevitable. She thought their relationship could work until he’d left her one night with a broken heart and her pride in tatters.
Three years later, he’s back and he wants a second chance.
Having committed atrocities for the greater good, Gabe has nothing left but darkness inside him. The only flicker of light is the memory of Beatrice—a woman embedded deeply under his skin.
Winning her back won’t be easy for she has erected walls that only the toughest of SEALs can hope to scale.
When Beatrice finds herself at the center of a deadly game, Gabe discovers the eerie similarities of the killer’s MO to a former assassin.
Discovering a link to the past, a truth that may cost him the woman he loves, distancing himself may be the only option to save Beatrice, but he is done walking away.
Gabe just needs to convince her this time he is all in, and a future with her is the only redemption worth having.
CHAPTER ONE
A clap of thunder jolted Beatrice awake.
Disoriented, she took in her naked body under the cool satin sheets. She smiled like a cat who’d had her fill of cream. Pure feline satisfaction. A night of wild sex with Gabriel Sullivan would do that to you.
She frowned at the empty space beside her.
Where is he?
Her brows furrowed deeper when a streak of lightning and the ensuing rumble followed too closely behind it. Damn spring storms. They better not delay their flight to Barbados in the morning.
Beatrice swung her legs to the floor, stood and slipped into a robe. Eyeing the open suitcase laid out on the floor, she remembered the whirlwind development of their relationship in recent weeks. She’d been seeing Gabe on and off for the past four months. It was only in the last three weeks that the dark-haired former Navy SEAL finally staked some sort of claim on her. Well, really staked a claim. Beatrice had been having drinks with a male friend when he rudely butted in and asked to speak to her.
He laid it out. He wanted their relationship to be exclusive.
This four-day trip to Barbados was a way of cementing the definition of said relationship: Gabe and Beatrice were a couple.
Shaking her head at how easily he had changed her rules about dating someone who was currently serving or had served in the military, she went to look for her man.
She descended the stairs of her two-story row house and found him in the study, standing by the French windows with the phone to his ear. His voice was low and gruff. He heard her come into the room; lightning illuminated his grim face and tight mouth.
Something was horribly wrong.
“I need to go,” Gabe spoke into the phone. His whiskey eyes were black in the darkened room, but she could feel them drinking her in. “I’ll see you in a few.”
“Is everything okay?” Beatrice asked anxiously as he ended the call.
Gabe lowered his gaze. Striding past her, he exited the study, crossed the living room, and mounted the steps leading to their bedroom.
A familiar knot of abandonment tightened her gut, freezing her where Gabe had left her. Taking deep breaths to calm down, she followed him upstairs.
The sight that met her in their room unleashed her worst fears. Gabe was pulling out his stuff from the meticulously packed suitcase and was shoving them into his black duffel.
“What are you doing?” Beatrice asked hoarsely. “Our flight leaves in six hours. Are we canceling?”
Gabe paused; the muscle tic in his jaw pulsed a few times before he finally looked at her. “I made a mistake.”
Beatrice forced herself to smile; sure she had misheard him. “What do you mean? You don’t like Barbados? We don’t have to go if that’s not your thing.”
“Us, Beatrice.” His tone was calm. “We’re not going to work.”
His statement doused her denial of what was clearly unfolding before her. He was ending it.
“Explain, Gabriel,” Beatrice said coldly. “Three weeks ago, you practically bulldozed me into a committed relationship. Now you’re wimping out? Uh-uh, a simple ‘we’re not going to work’
is not
cutting it.”
Gabe flinched, but didn’t respond. He pulled the zipper on his duffel and tried to get past her. She was having none of that and stood smack in front of him.
“I deserve an answer.”
Gabe’s eyes blazed at her. Wait, was he angry at her?
What the hell!
“You want the truth?” Gabe rasped. “I have a job to do.”
“You’re done with the SEALs or did you lie?”
“No. This is something else.”
“You’re working for Dad,” Beatrice whispered. The disapproval of her father regarding their relationship dawned on her.
He looked straight into her eyes. “No. Someone else. I need to leave.”
“No. That’s not a freaking explanation,” Beatrice fired back.
“You deserve more—”
“Don’t feed me that bullshit!” Beatrice screamed. Tremors shook her body. This wasn’t happening. Why was this happening?
“Okay, you want the fucking truth?” Gabe replied tersely. “I’ll always care for my job more than I’ll ever care about you. I realize that now.”
She inhaled sharply at his blunt, if not cruel, declaration. Heat burned behind her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry. Oh, no, she wasn’t. She wasn’t becoming her mother.
A tear slid down her cheek.
Gabe cursed. “You asked for the fucking truth. You got it.”
He made to move past her again, but she couldn’t let him go.
Against her better judgment, she raised a palm against his chest.
“Please, Gabe—”
“Jesus, Beatrice,” Gabe growled. “You’re an admiral’s daughter. Have some fucking pride. Don’t beg a man to stay if he doesn’t want you.”
The final stake was driven into her heart. She dropped her hand and swallowed hard. She stepped aside. Gabe didn’t even hesitate as he walked briskly away from her.
Yet what hope was left inside her made her walk to the window. The rain had slowed to a trickle, and there were still rumblings of thunder in the distance. The scene outside was pretty much what she felt inside—pure desolation. She watched the headlights of Gabe’s car flash as he bleeped the locks. Seconds later, his tall silhouette emerged from the sidewalk fronting her house.
Look up. Look up. Don’t leave, Gabe.
He never looked up.
*****
Three years later
“Rise and shine, Beatrice Porter!”
The smell of coffee hovered around her nose, but Beatrice shoved her face further into the pillow. “Go away.”
“Tsk. Tsk. Late night? Or can’t sleep?” The amused masculine voice teased.
“Both,” Beatrice grumbled, finally flopping on her back and sitting up. She glared at the leanly built blond man smirking at her. Douglas Keller—her personal assistant, her confidante, her everything actually. Because he did everything for her security consulting business that she had no patience to do. Besides, he took good care of her. She eyed the Styrofoam cup of morning brew held so tantalizing close to her face.
“From your favorite corner coffee shop,” Doug said as Beatrice grabbed the cup from him. He sat on the edge of her bed. “Drink up. You’ll need it.”
She groaned, “Don’t tell me there’s another article.”
“Front page of the DC Tattler,” Doug said. “Not too shabby a picture of your altercation with Rocker Boy in front of a Georgetown restaurant.”
Eric Stone, lead guitarist of Titanium Rose, was a moment of female weakness. She had succumbed to all those tattoos and bad boy image, and somehow fell into an intense fling that lasted for five weeks. That ended two weeks ago when she walked in on him snorting cocaine off a naked groupie.
It was official: Beatrice Porter had become a cliché and she hated it. Right now, she hated the disapproving look Doug was giving her. He had warned her, after all.
“He’s spreading the word that he’s begging for a second chance. He accepts full responsibility for the breakup.”
“He said he had stopped using.” Beatrice took a big gulp of her coffee and thought she should have brushed her teeth first. Setting the cup down, she padded to the bathroom, leaving the door open so Doug could talk to her.
“He said he was missing you.”
“Seriously? That’s his excuse? I was gone for less than four days. If I had not cut my trip short . . . I would have . . .” She shuddered before sticking the toothbrush in her mouth. It was a good thing she refused to forego using condoms with him. God knows if this hadn’t been the first time. Still, it was a good thing to have herself tested.
“I’ll schedule an appointment with your doctor,” Doug said, reading her mind. She later shooed him out of the room so she could take a shower. While she let the spray of water wake her up, she contemplated the damage to her reputation. So far, none of her clients had canceled their appointments. Her friends Travis Blake and Nate Reece, who ran a partner security firm, Blake Security Inc. (BSI), offered to beat Eric up and make it look like an accident. All her other friends simply teased her about this whole situation. She snorted inwardly. Her clients were probably afraid of canceling on an admiral’s daughter. Though she hated leaning on the clout of her father, she admitted it had its uses.
Beatrice didn’t know what her father, Admiral Benjamin Porter, exactly did for the CIA. Their relationship was an ebb and flow. Sometimes tumultuous where they clashed, sometimes cordial, sometimes cold. Turning off the water, Beatrice grabbed a towel and dried off.
There were times when he let his guard down and showed her some genuine warmth. Those occasions were rare. Beatrice wondered if he just wanted her to toughen up for whatever life plan he had in store for her. She wasn’t obtuse enough not to realize her father’s deft manipulation of her life had landed her as a security consultant.
Doug was already pounding away on his laptop in her home office. Beatrice lived in a penthouse apartment right on Pennsylvania Avenue. She realized as a consultant, she didn’t need to rent office space and just conducted her initial meetings in one of the many swanky restaurants inundating the nation’s capital.
“I’ve already typed up a brief for your lunch appointment with Senator Mendoza and his Chief of Staff.”
“And they only want security for their delegation to South America?”
“Yes. That’s their immediate requirement.”
“Have you done a background check? Any known threats to the senator?”
“He’s a member of the Intelligence and Homeland Security committees, so there are the usual threats. However, there is concern regarding his travel to Colombia.”
Beatrice sighed, trying to remember what she knew about that part of the world.
Senator Alex Mendoza was second-generation Colombian American. A success story. The son of poor immigrant parents, he impressed his teachers in school and won a scholarship to Harvard and graduated with the highest honors. He would facing a delicate challenge when the Immigration and Border Security bill hit the floor early next year.
