Page 7 of Legacy
Luke
This part fucking sucks. “It’s not you, it’s me,” I say. Chantal is a rabid dog—albeit a sexy as fuck one, perched on the side of my California King, wrapped in a sheet. “I don’t do relationships, C. My lifestyle isn’t conducive to having anything serious.”Plus, you really aren’t who I want.You’re vapid.“You knew that,” I add, so it doesn’t seem like it’s only my fault. Which, technically it is.
“Right. I get it. I knew going into this you were a player. What I’m pissed about is you telling me you’re finished with me thirty seconds after your dick was hitting my G-spot. What the hell is wrong with you?” Ah, crime of opportunity—I woke hard, and she was willing. I don’t say that out loud. I don’t say much to Chantal, if I’m being honest. It’s all physical. She tears across my room for the ensuite bathroom. “We went out multiple times,” Chantal hisses. “I don’t understand.”
Approaching from behind, I set my hand on her bare shoulder and she curls out of my grasp. Even though women saythey knowgoing into it, they don’t. Not really. Women think they can change me or my ways. That their golden pussy, or their perfect body, or their ability to cook is that much more alluring than the women who came before them. It’s always the same at the end. Fury. Confusion. Sadness. A reminder I really need to start dating a different type of woman, or not any at all until I’m ready for more.
“I can’t believe you’re giving me thatit’s not meline, either.” She drops the sheet, giving me the perfect view of her sculpted ass. Sucking in a breath, I calm my dick. “It’s lame,” she deadpans.
Leaning down, I pick up the sheet from the floor, ball it up and toss it into the laundry hamper behind me. “It’s the truth. I’m sorry. I’m just…better single.” At least that’s what I tell myself. That, or I like the game of catch and release too much to give it up.
She opens her arms wide, turning to face me. “I’m not enough for you?”
Ah, her body. The sole reason I’ve been on more than one date with her. Usually I keep it to a single date before moving on. It’s easier to break up before it starts. C was more persistent…in the bedroom.
Gulping hard, I drag my gaze to her face. “You are.”Not. “Workups are about to start and I’ll be gone most of the time on long trips. What did I tell you during dinner last weekend?”
Chantal folds her arms across her chest. Sighing heavily, she repeats my mantra, “No expectations means no disappointment.” Her voice is petulant. Like a child having a toy taken away.
“To avoid exactly this scenario,” I say, reaching a hand out to lean on one of the thick, marble columns next to me. Stretching out with my free arm, I run my fingers through her silky, dark hair. “This isn’t working, C. I should have told you last night. You’re beautiful. Thank you for the time we shared together.”
Her eyes widen and her forehead doesn’t move an inch. Finally, something new to focus on instead of her goddamn body. A frozen forehead. “I’m still sore from sex and that’s it?”
Yep, it’s actually happening.As expected, she storms out of the bathroom and picks up her dress from a chaise in the corner, aggressively pulling it on.
“No apologies. No reasons or hard excuses. Just that it’snot working. You really are a piece of work, Luke Hart.” Stooping to grab her heels, she spins to face me. “Karma is going to catch up to you one day soon. It’s going to eat you alive. Deliver you everything you deserve.” She holds out a red bottomed shoe in front of her, like a magic wand. “Mark me, Hart. You’re going to writhe with pain. With heartbreak.”
I hope she doesn’t have a voodoo doll at home. Chantal spins on her toe, brown hair flying, and walks out of my bedroom toward the front foyer. She jerks on the handle, forgetting I have to put in a code to unlock the door and disarm my high-tech security system. Still naked, I walk up to the touch screen panel on a wall adjacent to the entrance and tap in 2514. She doesn’t take her hand off the handle as she waits, and when it clicks open she storms out into the large circular driveway. I watch through an expansive window as she gets into her car and disappears down the long, winding driveway.
“Good riddance,” I whisper just as Jonas buzzes through the security intercom.
“She’s one pissed off broad.”
I laugh, and clap back to him with a joke about her oversized sunglasses I know he’ll find funny. His chuckle is clipped as he signs off.
Turning, I saunter through a long glass corridor to the kitchen. On one side there are views of my aqua blue private beach, and on the other side you can see the expanse of my side yard where there are craggy rocks, overlooking a steep cliff and the pool area. It’s another stunning San Diego day, and I pause to let the views soak in.
I inherited the twelve-bedroom mansion near La Jolla Farms when Mom and Dad built a new estate closer to my sister’s high school. Marley doesn’t have an interest in real estate yet. I have a feeling when she does, it’s going to be on the opposite coast, in some dreary skyrise penthouse. Where she’ll be going ga-ga over the neighbor who happens to be a goth overlord who writes bestsellers and judges you by the kind of foam on top of your coffee. My dad knows it, I know it, my mom is still in denial that she birthed a child that wants to leave the west coast. Easily forgetting, she was an east coast girl prior to meeting my dad.
The whole house was modified to become a wireless masterpiece when I moved in. I love technology in all shapes and forms. Everyone makes jokes that my alter ego is Lucas Askhart, the evil, plotting villain by night. Hero by day, of course. If I hadn’t become a SEAL, I’d probably have become a software developer. As I enter the kitchen, I command all the lights on, and order the local news to play while I go about making coffee and mixing a morning protein shake. My phone is docked on the charging station on the island and its buzzing.
I grab it while guzzling the spinach and blueberry concoction straight from the blender. It’s Dad. Licking my lips, I answer. “What’s good, Mav? You must be old sport tired with the training you’ve been proctoring.”
He breathes out long and heavy. I’m not sure if it’s relief, or a breath of foreboding. “She made it.”
“What?” I’m not caffeinated yet, and the only she on my mind is Chantal and how much damage control is warranted before she blasts the breakup to her friends.
“Aarabelle. She’s in.”
I knew it was down to the wire and she was still barely hanging on, but I am surprised. She’ll be pinned as a SEAL. The first woman in history to be among the ranks of the elite. “Holy shit. What’s Liam say?”
“Other than I told you so?” Dad says, laughing. “He’s happy. It’s what she wanted. She’s his daughter. Of course, he wants for her what she wants for herself.” He pauses, and I hear Mom in the background calling for him to say hello to me.
“Tell her I said hi,” I interject.
Dad grunts. “I can’t tell you how to treat people because you’re a grown ass man now, but Dempsey is going to have a hard time sliding into her role. Especially as an officer.”
I’d forgotten. Obviously, I knew she was an O, but ranks mean shit when you’re going through BUD/S and SQT. Everyone is treated with equal pain and commanded to do the same things. “Fuck, that’s right. Do you know which Team she’s going to yet?” SEAL Teams 1, 3, 5, and 7 are based in Coronado.
