Page 54 of Over the Edge

“I think you may have just insulted me.”

She smiled broadly. “Can’t slip a thing past you, can I?”

“It is a bit of a balancing act being around a woman like you.”

“Why’s that?”

He shrugged. “I’ve suspected for a while that women SEALs might ultimately be tougher operators than men. Take today. Had I just made my first—“ He broke off. “My first…serious stop, I no way, no how could get dressed up and smile my way through a party. I would be drunk off my ass in the corner of some dark, sleazy bar. Yet here you are.”

“I have help. You’re here, supporting me and distracting me.”

“We’re dancing. That’s all.”

“It’s enough.”

The song ended, and Anna murmured, “I’m out of breath. Can we please sit for a minute?”

“You? Out of breath? Miss Knock-Out-a-Marathon-Before-Lunch?”

She grumbled, “When’s the last time you ran an op in Spanx?”

He laughed under his breath. “Thousands of years of female fashion, and you still haven’t designed undergarments that let you breathe.”

“We don’t design it. Men still mostly dictate women’s fashion.”

“Can you blame us for enjoying looking at you?”

She scowled “Don’t get me started on misogyny in fashion.” He led her to one of the chairs now lining the edges of the room. “I’ll go get you something to drink,” he offered.

When he returned with two large glasses of sparkling water, he was startled to see a man seated next to her, speaking earnestly. As for Anna, her tense, even hostile, body language screamed at the unnamed man to get away from her.

Trevor lengthened his stride and hurried toward her. The man looked to be in his late thirties. Well-dressed, lots of gold jewelry, a flashy Rolex watch visible from a dozen yards away. The guy said something to Anna, and her eyes went ice cold. SEAL ready to lose her cool cold. Uh oh. He didn’t need her slugging this dude in the middle of a party.

Trevor stretched his stride to its maximum length and thrust the glass of water at her urgently. “Here you go, darling. The nice, cool drink you asked for.”

She leaped to her feet, and he was startled to see fear in her eyes. Actual fear. From the world-class commando? What the hell was going on here? He looked back and forth between her and the man, who had also risen to his feet.

Trevor crowded her side protectively. “Who’s this gentleman?” he asked with frigid politeness.

“This is Mansur Mughul. Gohar has offered to sell me to him in return for a lucrative business deal.”

“Does he speak English?” Trevor asked tersely.

“He speaks English,” Mughul answered for himself.

Trevor’s stare at the guy was pure ice. “Excellent. Then he’ll understand that a) you are not for sale, and b) that you are already promised in marriage to me.”

“Not according to Zagari tradition—“ Mughul started.

Trevor cut him off. “The lady is not Zagari. She’s an American citizen.”

“She’s Zagari by birth and blood, which is all the law recognizes here,” Mughul snapped. The man’s expression took on a distinctly arrogant look of victory as Trevor measured him silently.

Finally, Trevor said evenly, “I’ll say this once, and once only. You ever lay a hand on my woman, you’re a dead man. Is that clear?”

Mughul blinked and the arrogance faltered. The man actually took a step back in the face of Trevor’s icy calm. By his side, Trevor felt Anna radiating the same chilly menace.

He noted peripherally that people around them were beginning to stare. Excellent. He was all for making the point to everybody, once and for all, that Anna was his.

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