Page 2 of The Princess and the SEAL

A few people were staring at me, but I didn’t give a fuck. The blonde still cowered on the ground, and not a single passerby had stopped to see if she was okay.

I threw the thief back on the ground and tied his wrists to the bench post with my shoelace. “Don’t try anything funny, or I’ll kill you.”

He didn’t respond.

I turned my attention to the beautiful woman, reached out my hand, and helped her up.

She smoothed her hands over her clothes and looked right at me. Long, thick eyelashes framed her large eyes, which hypnotized me with their unusual cornflower-blue shade. “Merci beaucoup, monsieur.”

I eye-fucked her slowly. She looked like she was in her early twenties, and her golden-blonde hair framed a heart-shaped face before it cascaded down to her ample cleavage. Heat pulsed through my veins—she was a knockout. “I don’t speak French.”

Her face brightened. “You are an American?” she asked in perfect English laced with a sexy accent.

I gave her a charming smile. “Damn straight.”

America was the only woman I’d ever loved. I’d bleed for her; I’d die for her.

“I can walk you to the nearest police station to file a report. Or we can call the cops. Do they have 911 over here?”

She shook her head no, and her lower lip trembled. “That won’t be necessary. I doubt the police would be able to recover my purse. Please, just let him go.”

Confusion set in. “You don’t want to call the police? Why let this bastard get away with his crime?”

“I just don’t want the trouble, okay? It’s hard to explain. Please . . . let him go.”

I exhaled. I didn’t want to let this jerk off the hook, but it wasn’t up to me if she didn’t want to press charges. Why did she want to keep this quiet? Maybe she was on the run from someone or something.

Whatever.

I reluctantly released him. “Piece of shit. Get the fuck out of here.”

The man broke through the crowd and scurried away like a scared little mouse.

What kind of motherfucker stole from a gorgeous woman? He was lucky I hadn’t killed him, but I’d killed too many men in my life. There was no room for death on my vacation.

I handed her the luggage.

“Thank you for retrieving my suitcase. How can I ever repay you?”

By getting on all fours and letting me fuck you from behind.

I pushed the thought away. Over the years, I’d grown very good at reading people, and my gut told me she wasn’t the type of woman who would be interested in a casual hook-up. Besides her designer luggage, she wore a loose silk blouse that looked like it was expensive and sported huge emerald earrings.

And a massive diamond engagement ring.

Dammit. I was looking for a one-night stand—not someone else’s relationship drama.

I had two rules when it came to women: never sleep with the same one twice, and never fuck some other man’s woman. Cheaters repulsed me, especially after seeing so many of my Teammates return home from deployment to find their wives had been unfaithful.

“No need. Are you hurt?”

She placed her hand on my arm.

“No, I’m fine. A bit rattled, but I’ll be okay. But my documents, my money, and my phone are gone.”

That sucked. “Can I escort you somewhere? Your hotel?” I’d take her somewhere she would be safe. I didn’t owe her anything else. She was engaged—I refused to get involved.

Her shoulders dropped, and her voice sounded weak. “I don’t want to be a bother.”