Breach of Honor by Naomi Porter

13 Will

MIRANDA CLUTCHED MY arm as we drove to the Carriage House Inn. She looked so damn happy. I’d gone all out on this trip for her; she deserved it and so much more.

In my pocket there was a set of keys to my beach house. I had ordered a gold keychain with a starfish and our initials, W+M, engraved on it. The initials might be a little corny, but Miranda was all about romance: love notes, love songs, dancing. She even lit candles when we ordered pizza delivery. I was confident she’d love the keychain.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t as confident about her saying yes to moving in with me.

I had never wanted to please or spoil a woman as I did Miranda. I wanted to give her whatever her heart desired. The nervous queasiness in the pit of my gut made me wonder what proposing would be like.

The mere fact that I had such a thought told me Miranda might be the one.

It was why I went all out with the private jet, which I’d never used for any other woman. Come to think of it, Miranda was the only woman I’d taken on a trip.

York cleared his throat, drawing my attention to him. When I had ordered the chauffeured car, the last person I expected to see was my dad’s private security guard. York was former CIA. After he’d retired, my dad employed him—for security purposes he’d said when I’d asked about it.

Why would I question my dad? SJI handled billions of dollars, so security was our top priority.

The instant I saw York, I knew something was wrong, but driving the car I had ordered didn’t make any sense.

Of course, he didn’t explain what was going on. All he had said was, “There’s been a breach and we’re being cautious. Defer all questions to your father.”

I replayed the conversation I had with my dad yesterday in my head. I could tell he wanted to tell me something. Was it about the breach? And if it was, why didn’t he tell me if it were important? Or dangerous.

Why would it be dangerous?

“Oh, Will, it’s so charming… and romantic.” Miranda beamed as the car pulled up to the valet. “Better be careful. A girl could get used to this kind of pampering.”

I raised her hand and pressed my lips to the palm. Pampering? Hell no, this wasn’t a special one-time treat. It was precisely the kind of treatment she deserved. “Baby, I suggest you prepare to be pampered.”

Her smoldering gaze bore into mine, wrapping me in her sweetness. The blush in her cheeks stirred me up inside, and I knew I might not be able to wait to make love to her until after dinner as I’d planned. Who needed to eat, right?

York opened the door. “Sir.” He nodded, eyes canvassing the property.

I stepped out. “What the hell, York? You’re making me nervous,” I whispered, putting my hand out to assist Miranda.

“My apologies, sir.”

“I can’t believe this place! It’s breathtaking.” Miranda looked positively serene.

And in love with me.

So began our romantic getaway—with York shadowing us.

Miranda

Containing my emotions was impossible in this place. My heart fluttered with anticipation as we walked toward the entrance of the inn. I was ridiculously giddy. So much so, I feared I might make a complete fool of myself and stumble over my heels, walking up the stairs.

Right on time, Lily’s words echoed in my head. “Just be you. Embrace the love, sweets. It’s your time to be happy.”

I would embrace it all. I just hoped I didn’t embarrass myself along the way.

We entered the lobby, Will’s hand on my lower back, holding me closer than usual. The bald man trailing behind us with our bags made me nervous. His dark eyes scanned the surroundings as if searching for something. It put me on edge and made the hairs on my arms prickle. This driver wasn’t like the others I’d met in the short time Will and I had been together. He reminded me more of a secret service agent or a bodyguard than a chauffeur.

Heads turned our way. Women blushed, ogling Will, and men stood taller. He commanded attention merely with his presence, emitting an aura of power and money.

Would I ever get used to this kind of attention?

I hoped I would.

Even when Will wore his oldest, most faded pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt, people reacted to him as if they knew he was wealthy. Like they could smell his money. It was the weirdest thing.

I didn’t like it, nor did I feel comfortable with every pair of eyes on Will, me, or the man two steps behind us. But Will remained unaffected at the registration desk. He spoke and acted efficiently, professionally and articulate. In between his dealings, he’d shoot me a quick glance and smile.

It made me feel adored.

Cherished.

That single word had never been used to describe the way I felt with a man. Cherished. It was more than that, really. Will respected me. He listened to my verbose ramblings and remembered minor details of my day, and stories of my past. And not once was there a hint of boredom in his eyes.

“How are you beautiful?” He took my hand and led me to the elevator.

“Wonderful.” The doors opened and we stepped in, and so did the chauffeur with our luggage. Odd. Wasn’t carrying our bags up to the room the bellhop’s job? “Will…” I swooped my eyes to the man.

Will pressed his lips to my ear. His soft, warm breath sent tingles through my body. “Don’t worry about him,” he whispered, cupping my face.

Done.

Nothing or no one would ruin our holiday.