The Billionaire’s Marriage Of Deception

“Damn straight,” Amanda muttered. She returned the kiss for a moment, but then she thought of something and had to push Michael away. Better to know now before things got any more serious than they already had. “So how long can you stay?”

Michael cocked his head to the side, looking ridiculously like a 6’4″ puppy dog. “Stay?”

Amanda rolled her eyes. “Before you have to go back to whatever the hell your job is.”

“Oh.” Michael’s expression turned sheepish. “Um, I quit.”

“You what?” Amanda stared at him. “When? Why?”

Michael took in a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh. “The guys who were after me. We got them all, trust me.” When Amanda nodded cautiously, he went on, “But there’ll be more. There’ll be another gang where we don’t catch everyone, or there’ll be someone out for revenge because of something I did to one of theirs, or something like that. And I can’t…I always told myself that I’d quit one day when I had a good reason.” He gave a small shrug. “Maybe I found my reason.”

Amanda’s arms tightened reflexively, and she wished they weren’t having this conversation while they were both naked in a pool. “What do you mean?” she asked slowly, wanting to be sure she understood.

“I don’t mean—” Michael’s hand came up to touch Amanda’s face briefly before moving away. “I know we barely know each other, and maybe I’m just your rebound guy, and that’s cool. But the job I have isn’t one I can do if there’s someone waiting on me. It’s too dangerous, for me and for her. So if I’m ever going to be able to be serious with someone, I have to let it go.”

“Wow.” Amanda looked him over for a moment, absorbing it all. “And you think I’m worth that?”

Michael bit his lip and looked at Amanda from under his lashes. “I guess I’d like the chance to find out?”

Amanda slowly shook her head, feeling happiness well up inside of her like she hadn’t felt in years. “You might regret this, Deaton,” she warned, but she couldn’t keep the grin off her face.

Michael’s eyes were twinkling as he took in the expression on Amanda’s face. “I doubt it,” he said softly before capturing Amanda’s lips with his own.

They kissed until the ocean breeze brushing their wet shoulders made them shiver, until Amanda’s lips were feeling chapped and Michael had explored every inch of her mouth with his tongue, until Amanda was intimately familiar with the curve of Michael’s ass under her hands and until neither of them could wait any longer to find a soft horizontal surface and continue to take their time getting to know each other.

Amanda had no idea what was going to happen next, but just for the moment, the thought brought her nothing but delight.

*****

Michael went off on a morning run the next day when she took a call from Wyatt.

“Hello,” she said resignedly into the phone. Wyatt calling wasn’t gonna be good news; not the morning after the first night she’d spent with a man he was investigating for her. No doubt her security had snitched on her big time.

“Good morning Ms. Moore. You are well?” he began formal as ever.

“I’m very well Wyatt. You have news?”

He sighed, “I wish I did. What I do have is lack of news. I got a whisper of a rumor about your friend and the Mossad which doesn’t really gel with him fighting some local criminal gang. Whatever or whoever this man is…I strongly advise you to stay away from him.”

“Wow. That is…that’s intimidating.”

“I’m sorry about this. I know you would have liked to get to know him better but…not this one ma’am. He might be worse than the other one.”

Amanda sighed, “It is just too early for this.”

“Too early for what?” Michael asked from behind her. “If you want to know something, you should just ask.”

Amanda whirled around, phone still at her ear, “I have to go Wyatt,” she said before hanging up, eyes still on Michael.

“Alright then,” she said, “I have questions.”

“Shoot,” Michael said settling down on the bench that lined the wall in the dining room.

Amanda took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Who are you really and who do you or did you work for and what do you want with me?”

“Wow. That is…that’s a heavy question.”

“Will I get an answer?”

Michael held out his hand to her, “Come here.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to sit next to me and stop acting like you’re the headmistress and I’ve been sent to your office.”

Amanda rolled her eyes and came. “Fine,” she said sitting next to him, “Talk.”

“Alright so my full names are Michael Alexander Jameson Deaton born 30^th June 1985 to Alexander and Mary Deaton of Brownsville New York-“

Michael cut himself off as she laughed, staring at her with inquiring eyes.

“I wasn’t expecting your eulogy,” she said grinning.

Michael laughed, “I’m giving you checkable facts. Isn’t that what you want?”

Amanda made a face, “My guy already checked out your name. He couldn’t find much connected with you. It’s like you’re a ghost.”

“That’s because the people I work for would prefer that I’m very hard to find.”

“Work for? I thought you quit.”

Michael shrugged, “There’s quitting and then there’s quitting. I can do the former? Not so much on the latter.”

“Do I wanna know or would you have to kill me if you told me?”

Michael laughed, “You wouldn’t understand it even if I told you. All I can say is that it’s an organization that takes care of problems that more mainstream agencies have trouble resolving. We don’t do anything illegal; we just have greater flexibility than your average.”

“So you’re like Section Eight? Or the X-files?”

Michael laughed again, “Nothing that exciting. Most of our work is babysitting and stake outs.  Sometimes it’s all about just being the right person that people would gossip to. Law enforcement officers, no matter how well trained, tend to have characteristics that are identifiable to the average criminal. We’re different. Our training is different.”

“Fascinating. So you were saying about your stats.”

“Okay yeah so I have one sister, who lives in Barbados with her fisherman husband.”

“Seriously? Fisherman?”

“Deep sea fishing. He has a fleet of ships.”

“Ah. Not hating by the way. I just didn’t know fisherman was a real profession these days.”