RULES OF LOVE (A Navy SEALs Romance) (34 page)

The sun was blazing and he got even hotter. He decided to go for a swim to cool off. "Fuck it," he said aloud as he stripped to the skin and plunged into the pool. Once he hit the water, his animalistic instincts took over, and he started making powerful strides, swimming uphill against the current. The faster he swam, the more his body begged for more. It was as if the physical exhaustion was what he needed to get control of his thoughts of Sara.

While he was under the water, he heard someone calling his name from a distance. Zia was on the other side of the river where he had left his clothes. She had probably guessed he was off swimming to release tension. This was the first time he had done this right before an event with so little time to spare.

He surfaced and looked up in the clouds. He had gotten so carried away being in nature that he had totally lost track of time. He should have been dressed and awaiting the guests rather than naked and swimming in a stream, totally unaware of the rest of civilization.

"Coming, Zia!" he called to her from the distance.

"You're going to make us late!" she called back to him. "You know what time it is?”

Nick didn't have to get close to her to know she was seething mad at him. Her voice told him all he needed to know. "I'll be there in a few!" Nick called back.

"Five minutes, brother! And put some damn clothes on."

Nick heard her footsteps retreat to the house. He swam back to his clothes and was dressed and on his way back to the house quickly.

The guests hadn't started arriving when he emerged, but his staff were ready to start the party. He disappeared into his room and took a quick shower. He had picked out a sensible dinner suit for the evening - a white suit tailored for him, but on second thought, he went for a dark suit. He had a sense that Sara would find him more appealing in a darker color.

As he dressed, he cursed himself. When did everything he do start depending on Sara's opinion? He hadn't even kissed her, for crying out loud, and he was rearranging his life for her.

Looking out his window as he dressed, he watched the cars pull up the long driveway and let the guests out.

The first person to arrive was Mr. Harris, a man in his fifties, with his fourth or fifth wife. He had lost count. Nick watched them alight from the limo after it parked in his expansive driveway – the man, clad in an expensive, custom-made suit, alligator shoes, and a pin-stripe white shirt; his wife was dressed in a long, black, tight dress that was probably from a limited collection of some overpriced designer line, her shoes at least five inches high, and her hair, blonde, cropped, and silky. They came every year, or rather, he came every year with a different wife, Nick thought, a smile on his face. He didn't care so much about his wives because he contributed to his cause. To Nick’s amusement, Mr. Harris hurried out of the car when the chauffeur opened the door like he couldn’t wait to get away from his spouse, who was right beside him, speaking to him. Nick saw her touch his hand gently and quickly kiss him on the lips. He didn’t let the kiss linger; he slyly pulled away from her. Nick could tell what sort of relationship they had. Another divorce was on the way.

The second limo pulled up to let out his second set of guests, a couple who were close friends of Zia. Nick sighed. He knew that two limos were his cue to come downstairs and greet the guests. Their selection of guests were not really his close friends, but people they knew were mega rich. It was great to have all those people coming to his event, but he was interested in just one car, his limo, and David, the chauffeur, was running late.

SARA

Even though I had earlier decided against drinking, now that I was really going to the party, I began to freak out. I looked in the mirror on the limo; I looked decent. I could see the diamond necklace. I had forgotten to take it off. I had let Amy persuade me to wear it, but I wouldn't keep it. I'd take it off as soon as the limo left, and I was far away from Amy. I reached behind my neck to unclasp it. The limo driver looked at me through the mirror and smiled.

"You should keep it on. It suits you."

"Thank you," I smiled. "But it's really not mine."

"Well, it suits you very well. Better than anyone else.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, but I murmured thank you though I was quietly steaming inside. Did David really mean that Nick Saunders gave this same necklace to a million other women? It was insulting that he would send me a necklace his ex-girlfriends have worn.

Suddenly, the necklace seemed to have caught fire on my neck, and I tried to yank it off, not caring about being careful. The diamond necklace that had graced my neck now seemed like a whore’s accessory. How dare he think he can do that to me? I calmed down as I realized that he hadn’t done anything to me; rather, he had sent that to the real Sara Nolles. So what was she? His sex-toy?

I looked at the driver, debating whether to ask him what he meant, but he had turned his focus back to the road. He probably wouldn't discuss his boss's escapades, and it wouldn’t be right for me to push him. For a moment, I toyed with asking the driver to take me back home and giving the stupid necklace to him, but if I did go home, Amy was waiting for me.

Suddenly I was mad. Did these women even know that he was using them? Or did he just think that because he could buy anything in the world, he had a right to buy women? My anger changed to disbelief, then anger again. How dare he think I was a whore? Or was the real Sara Nolles really a whore?

"Ma'am, if you'd like some water...” the driver began, but I was already pulling out a bottle of very expensive wine.

"Thanks," I said, tight-lipped. I opened the bottle and poured myself a glass, careful not to spill it on myself. I was not a wine person and didn't drink liquor or alcohol, but I felt like I needed that glass. Maybe even two glasses. The first glass to calm my fraying nerves and convince myself that attending this party was okay. And the second glass to calm my anger at Nick Saunders for peddling a necklace among all his girlfriends like they were nothing.

I wondered how many girls had worn the necklace before me. I took the necklace off and placed it in the inner pocket of my purse where I knew it would be safe until I handed it to Nick Saunders. It was the right thing to do. Maybe he could peddle it to the next girl that let him sleep with her.

"Ma'am, we'll be pulling up shortly," the driver's voice cut into my thoughts.

I hadn't been paying attention, but I now looked out the window. Even though it was dark, I could see the house, or rather, the mansion that loomed in front of us.

"Holy shit," I swore under my breath as we pulled up to the gates and security let us in. The massive house in front of me was like no other.

NICK

From the corner of the foyer, Nick watched as his limo pulled up to the house and the woman he had eagerly been waiting for stepped out of the car. For one second, he didn’t recognize her – gone were the rough edges he had seen at the café, replaced by a softness he hadn’t noticed. She had filled out some more and was curvier than he remembered. His pants tightened as he resisted the urge to run to her and sweep her into his arms. That was sure to make her leave the party. He’d be lucky if she stayed after discovering he was the guy from the café. If she chose not to stay, he wouldn’t blame her.

He tried to focus his mind on other things, but he could not stop gaping at her. She was stunning, a word he had never used to describe another woman. She wore a daring red dress, something he would never have imagined her wearing. Her red lips were eye-catching, her curves he could see from the distance, and her hair accentuated her dress. She was beyond beautiful, and even though in his wildest dreams of her he had imagined her in a black dress, or earthy, neutral colors, he loved how the red dress made her eyes shine. If only she had worn the necklace he’d sent her… it would have signified her guard was down.

He saw one of his hostesses approach and greet her, then guide her toward the tent. He knew he should be out there to welcome her, and in any other circumstance, he would have had no problem walking up to the woman and making easy conversation, but for some reason, this woman stumped him. When had he become this shy man afraid to talk to a woman?

He watched her walk, swinging her hips and smiling and talking to the hostess. After a few seconds of observing her, he was ready to make his debut. It was reckoning time.

SARA

I walked with the hostess, who guided me toward the tent where the event was taking place - an outdoor set up that looked like a five-star hotel.

"Beautiful," I said to the hostess, whose name was Diane.
Simply breathtaking
, I thought but didn't say it aloud since I didn’t want to sound too eager and stick out like a sore thumb. I had to remember that even though I had never seen such opulence in my life, I had to act like I was born and bred with a silver spoon in my mouth so I didn't look ridiculous, at least not until I was kicked out of the party, which was sure to happen.

"You haven't been to this event before," she stated rather than asked.

"No, I haven’t," I admitted. There was no use lying. Based on her greetings to her co-workers and how she had so expertly received me, Diane had probably worked there for years and most likely knew all the guests’ names.

"Usually Mr. Saunders receives his first time guests personally. He likes to show them around. Perhaps he will show you the grounds later," she said with a curt smile.

"Perhaps," I replied, smiling. Perhaps not. I’m not sure I wanted to be that close to a man who was so filthy. Then again, how was I any different from the other guests? I had accepted an invitation to a party that I should not have come to. If anyone was filthy, maybe it was me. In a way, I was glad he had not come to receive me because he would have seen right through me.

I hoped when I began mingling with other guests, he would not notice me. Except there was one major problem. I still had his necklace and needed to return it to him. Damn. I felt my bag to reaffirm the necklace was still there. It was.

As I stepped into the tent, I couldn't believe that I was even in a tent. Mr. Saunders had transported the best ballroom from one of those expensive hotels and imported it into the tent. It was magnificent. Granted I was easy to please, but the place was professionally decorated with flowers, crystals, and the best of what money could buy.

"Nice, isn't it, ma’am?" Diane said, smiling. “Quite breathtaking when you first see it. You know, the first time I saw the set up my first time working for the Saunders, I wondered if I had died and gone to Heaven.”

"It is elegant," I said, trying to control my excitement. Perhaps if I acted like being in a five-star hotel-tent or whatever was the norm for me, I could blend in easily.

"Can I get you something to drink, ma'am?" she asked, motioning to a server with a tray of wine glasses.

"Sure," I replied with a smile.

"What would you like? We have..."

"Just water, thank you," I said, cutting her off gently. My head was already spinning from the wine in the limo, and the last thing I wanted to do was to make a fool of myself at this event.

"Sure," she said. She pulled one of the glasses off the tray and handed it to me.

I stifled a smile, thinking that I could have easily grabbed the glass of water myself. She made me think of those rich folks who needed someone to brush their hair and teeth for them. Usually, I was the one grabbing water off the tray for folks, not the other way around.

"Thanks, Diane.”

"My pleasure, ma'am. Is there anything I can do for you?"

"No, thank you so much," I replied. Diane nodded and started walking towards another guest. That was what I should probably do, walk towards another guest and introduce myself. Then it hit me. The people around me ran multibillion-dollar companies. They owned the kinds of cafes I worked in. What the heck was I supposed to talk about? My job as a waitress? I felt cold sweat breaking out along my spine. I thought about what sort of job I was supposed to have. I wasn't sure if my side photography gig counted as a billion-dollar business. I was screwed and I knew it.

I looked around. Several ladies who looked like they had just stepped out of a fashion magazine mingled with their partners. I moved closer and closer to the corner of the room until I was almost invisible. The women had wine glasses in one hand –no doubt sipping on the most expensive drinks in the world– and flirted with the men surrounding them.

Maybe it was time to leave. Who was I kidding? I didn't belong here with these women who looked so expensive. I knew their clothes, shoes, jewelries were priceless. Maybe I should have worn the necklace. Maybe that would have helped me fit in.

The men were dressed in suits obviously custom-tailored for them. I watched how they held the women's delicate waists and whispered to them. If nothing else, my curves made me stand out. The red dress drew attention, and I started to regret wearing such a bright color when everyone else was dressed in black. I mentally cursed Amy for making me wear the dress when I could have worn a simple black dress.

An elderly woman walked toward me. I straightened and moved a little bit out of the shadows. Even though I didn't want to be seen, I didn't want to look like I was hiding either.