Billionaires and Bad Boys: The Complete 7-Book Box Set

by Nikki Chase

  And that’s the problem, isn’t it?

  He’s way too strong for me to fight, and he’s way too rich for me to have anything to offer in return for my freedom. I… There’s really nothing I can do. I can’t think of anything that can get me out of this situation.

  The marble under my bare feet grows warm from my body heat. Seth takes a turn at the end of the long hallway and disappears. The luxurious corridor is now empty, except for me.

  Without anyone around me, I can almost imagine that none of this has happened, that the past twenty-four hours of my life didn’t really happen.

  When I look back into my room, though, and see the empty bowl from before, I can’t remain in denial.

  I’m a prisoner now, a bird with clipped wings, kept in a beautiful gilded cage.

  I decide to make the most of whatever freedom I still have. At least I don’t have to stay inside my room anymore. I can roam, within the premises, as Seth said.

  My blood boils within me. The adrenaline coursing through my system is trying to convince me it’s a good idea to fight, or to flee, but my rational mind knows neither option is possible.

  I need to calm down and come up with some kind of a plan.

  Right now, my plan basically consists of: I’m not cooking for Seth. That is all.

  Obviously I’m not going to succeed in starving him to death, so that really doesn’t do much beyond satisfying my urge for petty revenge.

  Still, if I’m being held here against my will, I need to start thinking of myself as a prisoner, rather than as house staff.

  So he thinks letting me go on a week-long trip is too much of an inconvenience for him? Well, now he won’t ever taste my cooking again.

  Maybe it’s a little arrogant of me to think he’ll miss it, but I think he genuinely likes my cooking, as he has demonstrated through his spaghetti carbonara.

  I hate saying this, but the pasta was seriously good. And it was obviously my recipe.

  Where the hell did a guy like Seth learn how to cook? The man has people waiting on him hand and foot. People are literally waiting around all day just in case he needs them to doing something for him.

  I find it hard to imagine him referring to some recipe online while he works over a stove, wearing an apron over his impeccable business suit.

  To be fair, when I was cooking for him, someone else bought the ingredients for me. All I had to do was write down a shopping list and everything would magically appear in the kitchen, already stored and neatly organized.

  There was that one time when I asked Anthony to take me into town to buy something specific. But other than that, it’s crazy how every little job is already assigned to someone here.

  Come to think of it, maybe it wasn’t that someone was doing the grocery shopping for me. Maybe Seth made it that way so I wouldn’t ever leave the house, except when one of his trusted men, like Anthony, could come with me to keep me in line.

  Mystery upon mystery upon mystery. Is there anything Seth does that is just normal and straightforward?

  I step outside the mansion and take a deep breath. At least I can still take a stroll in the outdoors, thanks to the massive size of this property.

  Funny. When I thought I was free to leave any time, I didn’t really feel like venturing outside. I was content enough to check out the well-stocked library and sit at the balcony, watching the burly men in black walking to and fro on the green grass.

  As I pass by one of those men, he nods at me solemnly. I wonder if he just has a serious face, or if he feels sorry for me because I’m trapped here.

  Does he know I’m being kept here against my will? Does everyone in the house know?

  From the way Ana acted last night, that seems to be the case.

  So everyone knows Seth is basically taking me hostage, and they’re not doing anything to stop him. It’s crazy what you can make people do if you just pay them enough money.

  Droplets of rainwater cling onto the blades of grass, dripping onto the top part of my feet that aren’t covered by my flats. The soil feels soft under my soles after the light drizzle this afternoon.

  I hear footsteps behind me and look over my shoulder to see the man in black from before. He’s following me, I realize.

  I don’t know why that surprises me. Perhaps because I was hoping someone would help me get out of here just because that would be the decent thing to do. Alas, everyone I’ve come across so far obeys Seth dutifully—even sweet, innocent-looking Ana.

  I guess they get paid just as well as I did. I wonder if I’m ever going to see any of that money he promised me.

  I hear the cracking of joints behind me, and turn around to quickly give my shadow a dirty look. That sound has always made me cringe. If he’s going to follow me around, he could at least have the courtesy of staying quiet so I can pretend I’m alone and free.

  He’s speaking into a microphone that has been attached to the collar of his black T-shirt, but he keeps his eyes on me. He’s reporting my movements to someone. Seth, perhaps. Or another one of the guards.

  So that’s what the guards are for. They’re not here to prevent robbers from getting in. They’re here to keep prisoners from getting out. Much like the borders of North Korea, the gates and fences around this vast property are meant for preventing defection.

  At least the dictator here is compassionate enough to not let me die of hunger. He even cooked me some pasta. Food is the least of my worries here, apparently.

  A wry chuckle escapes my mouth as I imagine Seth wearing an apron again, the floral pattern and lace clashing with his crisp, formal business suit.

  I reach the fountain that I usually watch from the balcony and walk right up to the edge. I don’t know what I expect to see, but it’s not this.

  The water is clear enough, and the fountain is obviously well taken care of. But close up, I can see the pipes and the jets, which kind of destroy the magic of the fountain.

  I take a seat on the stone edge of the fountain and look toward the mansion, searching for my usual reading spot. Instead, I see Seth on a different balcony.

  There’s probably about a hundred yards between us—I can’t be sure as I’ve never been very good as estimating distance—but I can see him looking right at me, and I can see his lips moving.

  Is he speaking to himself?

  I squint and spot the phone in his hand. That makes sense. The guard probably told Seth about me being here, and he came out to watch me, like I’m some kind of a court jester, here to entertain the king of the castle.

  I can’t believe I ever thought he was attractive. God, I even fantasized about him that one night.

  I mean, yeah, I can’t deny that he’s hot. But the fact that he’s keeping me prisoner here kind of negates his good looks.

  I hold up both my hands and give Seth two middle fingers. I know it’s childish and it wouldn’t accomplish anything. I don’t even know if he can see my fingers from all the way up there.

  But what can I say? I need to get back at him in some way, and I can’t really think of one good idea. I’m completely helpless and vulnerable, and I literally have no idea how to get myself out of this predicament.

  Alice

  It has been three days since Seth came to tell me I’m not allowed to leave his property, and I’m losing my mind.

  When I was still locked up inside my bedroom, I thought about breaking the glass on the window and climbing out. But I see now that it would’ve been pointless. Even if I could get out, there are guards all over the place.

  Besides, Seth lets me roam outside anyway, as long as I stay within the boundaries of the property. The guards always follow me around to make sure I don’t break that rule.

  Once outside, it’s a long way from the mansion to the fence. I’d have to run through a big, open space, where the guards can plainly see me. There’s no way for me to make it outside, unless I can run so fast I become an almost-invisible blur, like The Flash.

  You know how the song
goes? In every life we have some trouble. But when you worry, you make it double.

  It’s a silly song, but it’s one that has kept me going through difficult times.

  At least for now, there’s nothing I can do to escape, and it doesn’t seem like Seth intends to hurt me. So instead of worrying, I spend my days relaxing, like some high-society lady with nothing to do.

  Ana makes a mean iced tea, Seth has an immense collection of books in his library, and the balcony still has great views. I fill my days with all these things.

  I’ve also been exploring. One day, I needed to straighten my legs after sitting down and reading for so long, so I took a walk and found another building just behind a line of trees. It looks like a small apartment block. As far as I can tell, that’s where most of the house staff sleep.

  I don’t cook anymore. I just eat whatever Ana has prepared. It seems like she’s the one who cooks for everyone, as far as I can tell.

  She never uses the big kitchen in the mansion anymore, now that I don’t cook. Instead, she leaves a portion in the kitchen for me at every meal time.

  As far as prisons go, I have it pretty good, I guess. I mean, I live better than I ever did outside. Still, the situation is less than ideal. I’d rather be free any day than live in luxury and captivity.

  I pick up the glass of sweet iced tea and take another sip. The condensation that has formed on the outside of the glass feels wet and cool on my fingers. I put it back on the table and continue reading, taking care to not stain the pages of the book with my wet fingers.

  I let out a deep breath. I was hoping my worries would leave my body with that breath, but I have no such luck.

  It depresses me that wetting the pages of a book that belongs to my captor is the most important thing I care about these days.

  Relaxing here used to be great, back when I had a lot of free time between preparing the meals. But now that it's all I do anymore, it kind of sucks.

  I used to have goals, targets, to-do lists. Now I just sit around all day, being useless.

  “Enjoying the view?” A deep baritone comes from behind my chair.

  Seth.

  It feels like the temperature has dropped by twenty degrees, the way the tips of my fingers and toes are suddenly too cold. Yet, the sun is still shining warm and bright, high in the sky.

  I haven’t seen Seth since that night he gave me his spaghetti carbonara in my bedroom.

  “What do you want?” I ask wearily.

  “Just want to make sure you’re comfortable,” he says as he takes the chair across the table from me. We both sit facing the fountain like old friends.

  “Comfort is not the problem,” I reply.

  “I know. But again, there’s no other way, Alice. I want you to be safe.”

  “Yeah, whatever.” I lower my voice to mimic Seth and say, “You can't leave, Alice. It's dangerous, but I can't say why.”

  He chuckles.

  “I’m glad you find that funny, because I fail to see the humor in my situation.”

  “I guarantee you, my angel, you have it good,” he says.

  “Well, good is relative. Since we're talking about me, it's up to me to decide whether it's good. I happen to disagree with the notion that it's good. In fact, it's pretty bad.”

  “You’re funny.” He chuckles again.

  “I’m not joking, Seth. You need to let me go.” I twist in my chair to face Seth. “I promise you, I won't report this to the cops. I’ll just go back to my old life.”

  “Your old life doesn't exist anymore,” he says casually, as if he wasn't the one to blame for that.

  “I’d still have my old life if I didn’t take this job.” I’d still be working at The Local and living in my own cozy apartment, lonely but free.

  “Believe me, you wouldn’t. It doesn’t even matter whether you took this job.” Seth gets up from his chair and stands in front of me, blocking my view of the fountain. “Also, it's not the cops I’m worried about. There are more dangerous people out there. People who want to hurt you, not just lock you up.”

  “So you're saying, you're the good guy here?” I look up at him and stare flatly.

  “It's not about being a good guy or a bad guy, Alice. I don't care about that.” He crouches down in front of me and levels his gaze at me. His blue eyes darken as his pupils dilate, drawing me in. His lips part. “It's about something else.”

  “What is it about, then?” My breath catches in my throat. Seth’s nearness is almost suffocating. I feel like Seth’s essence is seeping inside me, overpowering me. As if hypnotized, I lean closer.

  “Something way more important,” he says as he lifts a big, warm hand to my cheek, tempting me to melt into his touch.

  “Like what?” I look down onto Seth’s gorgeous face, only inches away now. I can feel his breath on my skin.

  “Protecting you,” he says as he puts his hand on the back of my head, pulling me even closer. “I’ll do anything to keep you safe from them.”

  I close my eyes and part my lips slightly, letting Seth's hand guide me closer until, finally, our lips touch.

  He's gentle at first—introductory, exploratory. His lips are hot and intoxicating. The more I taste, the more I want. From the way the kiss gets more and more intense, I guess Seth feels the same way, too. He bites my upper lip almost painfully, making me gasp. Somewhere along the way, the pain in my lip turns into pleasure in my core. My muscles tense.

  Seth pulls away and looks at me intensely, his gaze claiming and dominating. He grabs the hair at the base of my skull and pulls it hard, making me whimper. He puts his mouth by my ear, his hot breaths heavy and erratic.

  “I’ll protect you,” he whispers, “even if I have to hurt you to do it.”

  Before I have time to process his words, he grabs my left ankle. I shriek from the shock.

  For a moment, I realize how vulnerable I am. He can do anything to me, and I can scream all I want, but nobody's going to come to my aid, not if it means going against the boss’ orders. We're still in Seth’s little kingdom, where what he says goes.

  “What are you doing?” I demand.

  I look closely when he pulls out something black from the pocket of his suit jacket. A thin, black metal band, and a plastic square. It looks like a digital watch.

  “Don't worry. This won't hurt at all,” Seth says as he wraps the thing around my ankle. It feels cold and foreign on my skin.

  “What the hell is that?” I try to kick my ankle free, but Seth has a firm hold on it.

  “It's just a nifty little device that keeps me updated on your location.” Seth tightens the thing around my ankle until it locks with a click and lets out an electronic beeping sound. “It gives you freedom to roam, since you like to wander outside so much.”

  “You mean it’s like a tracker? You're tagging me with a damn tracker?” I yell, even though he's right in front of me.

  “It's for your own safety,” he says with a mocking smile. He gets up to his full height, puts his hands on his waist, and looks down with satisfaction at the unwanted, intrusive thing around my ankle.

  “You keep turning things around on me. You turn me into a hostage in your house, but you say it's for my safety. You track my movements, but you say it gives me freedom. What is wrong with you?”

  “You ask too many questions,” he says. Danger flashes in his cool blue eyes. “That can get you killed.”

  His words strike fear into my heart, sending my pulse rate way up. That's a threat, right?

  Like nothing strange has happened, Seth shoots me a sad smile and walks away, leaving me alone on the balcony again.

  I grab the tracker and pull it with my fingers, trying to pry it open. It doesn't budge, of course. It looks expensive and sturdy as hell.

  Seth Wayne only buys the best equipment for his captives, I think to myself cynically. Figures.

  I wonder how many women he has kept here against their will. Maybe that's how Alejandra and Ana started living here. T
here's no other reason I can think of for him to have trackers in the first place.

  God, it makes me feel like an animal. I remember my first conversation with Seth, when I mentioned cow bells used to track cattle in Switzerland. Well, with this annoying thing around my ankle, I can sympathize with their plight even more.

  As I continue to pull on the tracker, it occurs to me that everything I’ve been afraid of, I’m experiencing now.

  Starvation? Check. Had that the first twenty-four hours of my captivity.

  On that note, captivity? Yeah, check. Just look at that damn tracker curled menacingly around my ankle.

  I thought I’d finally made it when I accepted this job. Two-hundred-thousand dollars a year? Yeah, sign me up. I’d have had so much money in the bank by the time I quit, maybe even enough to start my own restaurant.

  Instead, I end up here, at the lowest point in my life—held hostage by a man who admits he’s not a good guy, and apparently being hunted by some seriously bad guys.

  Alice

  There was only one time in my life when I truly feared losing my freedom, and that was the one and only time I ever shoplifted.

  This happened more than a decade ago, yet I still remember many of the details. I guess that’s just how it works with life-changing events like that.

  I wasn’t legally an adult yet. I was seventeen, to be precise.

  I remember that because, as I was weighing the pros and cons, I thought at worst I’d go to juvie—not that it wouldn’t be a big deal, but at least I wouldn’t have it on my permanent records. At least I’d still be able to find work afterward.

  It was dumb, but I was a dumb teenager facing some serious money issues. Still, I cringe when I’m alone in bed and randomly remember the event.

  My mother, being the irresponsible parent that she is, hadn’t come home for two weeks. Meanwhile, Emily and I had no money for food. I was between jobs at the time and we were starving. Looking back now, as an adult, I know it wasn’t my fault. But back then, the guilt was crushing.