Bone Frog Bachelor - Sharon Hamilton

Chapter 1

Marco

I have done it all. I built three global security companies, plus foreign subsidiaries including an airline company and a shipping conglomerate. I used my skills and training as a former Navy SEAL and partnered with some of the biggest industry titans in the realm of international trade. But my love has always been in protecting and securing the safety of my country and those I care about.

And I did this, as it turns out, at the expense of my own security and fortune. I cared for everyone else’s assets and left mine wide open to plunder.

Well, that was then. Now I’m fighting back. I plan to screw that bitch of a former wife who, while she was screwing me in my own bed, was slutting with other men. I was naive, but now, fully awakened, I will have my revenge.

It’s a very simple two-step process: One: Get even. Two: Create massive success by re-capturing the wealth I lost playing the marriage game. Payback and wealth creation are the best forms of revenge a man can conjure up. Maybe it wasn’t the road to happiness, but it’s the road I’m taking, with my team of specialized agents. My revenge would be sweet, and the screwing her over wouldn’t have any bedroom on the horizon.

Happiness was an illusion. I believed being happy was running hard and screwing harder next to a woman I thought was a racehorse, like myself. She ran a lean takeover operation of my assets. Maybe she would have upped it to the optimum level, since we had no children. She would have been my sole beneficiary. While I wasn’t looking, the person I thought I was closest to dug in deep through opportunity and, yeah, because I’m a good guy at heart.

No more. Fuck Mr. Good Guy. I’ll be taking no prisoners. I’m a vacuum cleaner in a phonebooth full of million-dollar bills. And yes, they do exist. The Treasury Department printed some for me so I could frame one to hang in my office.

Tony Abruzzo told me about The Bachelor Towers (lots of sound effects there…or at least there were every time he spoke those words). He said it was mostly inhabited by younger men of my ilk. Up-and-comers and monied trust fund babies who could be my sons, if I’d been a bad boy in high school and knocked someone up.

At first, I wasn’t interested. I was still seething from the betrayal Rebecca had played against me, taking half my wealth and costing me most of the other half defending what I had left. The anger was fresh with me. And since I never gave up, I knew it would never go away until it was satisfied. Those fires quenched.

I remembered that conversation well—when he “sold” me on the idea just like he’d sold me Bentleys over the years.

“Marco, one thing’s for sure, with the average bachelor age being around thirty-five, there won’t be many women over that age. Ripe, beautiful. Looking for love and money. And I’ll bet many of them are tired of boys—or boys trying to behave like real men. You’ve got the experience they crave. Been a Navy SEAL and have the scars to prove it. You came from nothing and carved your way out with years doing hard time on the battlefields and used it to your advantage. You’re smart. You’re lean and primed for some old-fashioned good times you so richly deserve.”

“You’re forgetting one thing, I’m focused on revenge,” I told him that day.

“Even better. They love men who are driven to obsession.”

“Why would that be?”

“Because a man who can’t fight can’t fuck. You remember that quote from Patton?”

“Yeah, we used to say it every night in Coronado after we got our leave.”

“Women love to be the object of desire by a man who knows better. Not a man who is beginning to get the lay of the land. They want an experienced lover who will ride them wet and leave them panting for more. You’re the original Italian Stallion, Marco. You’re the guy they’ve been looking for their whole lives.”

I must have looked skeptical, but I was seriously chewing on the idea.

“Here’s an added bonus,” Tony said as he sipped his purple martini that looked like it could be a Dr. Death cocktail. “You don’t even have to tell them to flaunt it in front of your ex. Women love to do that shit all the time. It’s human nature to them. It’s the, “‘see what a prize