by Lana Grayson
I wanted to possess her company.
I dared to love Sarah Atwood.
And yet I let the spectacle continue, if only because I knew of no other way to save her, no alternatives to protect the empires I forged for my future.
My head pounded. The tension did little to aid my conversation with the board as the caterers served the courses. Reed caught my gaze, mimicking an explosion with his hands. He waited for Sarah to blow. So did I.
But Sarah Atwood survived her time in our prison through sheer force of will and an unbreakable spirit. She wouldn’t admit her fear of my father, which relieved me. He wielded too much power over her already.
She said nothing, only studied the fancy lunch in the sun and picked at the salad presented before her.
She clenched her fork as my father rubbed her shoulders.
My only relief was that she focused on him. That she wouldn’t realize how many of the Bennett board members leered at her, searching every fold in her dress for any telltale sign of their future profits.
My father stabbed his salad, piercing a tomato with a victorious thrust. “We ordered the greens and vegetables from the Atwood farm.” He spoke to the table. “A little piece of home for my Sarah.”
Her fork dropped.
“Well, we knew the Atwoods grow good stock,” Bryant grinned. Sarah indulged him with a nod.
“Beautiful too,” my father said. “Everything from the farm is plucked in its prime.”
She accepted the challenge without knowing what game she played. “It’s the seed we use, I assure you.”
Bryant chuckled. “Imagine the yield if you’d use our products on your fields. Your crops would flourish with Bennett fertilizer.”
Her smile was too bold. “Oh, believe me, I already put up with enough Bennett shi—”
“More lemonade, my dear?” My father ordered a server to refill her glass.
Jacob Fisher’s glance was entirely too greasy for a plate which had yet to be loaded with fatty meats. “No champagne, Ms. Atwood?”
“Sarah is only twenty, Jake,” my father said.
“Doesn’t even get a taste at a party?”
“Bennetts are nothing if not respectful of the law.”
Jacob, Bryant, and Clyde chuckled. I didn’t react, but Max and Reed’s glances were not as subtle as they believed. Sarah didn’t appear to notice. She wrinkled her nose as a server presented the table with oysters and passion fruit salads, Thai slaws and the first of the pulled pork sliders, delicately stacked upon the platters.
“Darius.” Bryant’s wife—a blonde twenty years his junior—snubbed the oysters and pawed through her salad, removing each toasted almond. “Where is your new wife?”
Sarah trembled as she sipped the lemonade.
“Unfortunately, Bethany is unwell at the moment. She’s resting at home.”
“She hasn’t moved here yet?”
“Not just yet.”
“For Heaven’s sake, why not? She can’t enjoy living in a dirty cornfield.”
Christ. I nudged Sarah’s foot under the table before she exposed our crimes not in tearful sobs crying rape but a hissed indignation at the insult to her family farm.
“My mother won’t leave the farm,” Sarah said. “I never thought I would either until recently.”
Her voice was the spike driving into my temple, and her glare would snap it in half. I hadn’t been the bad guy for a few weeks. At least it felt familiar.
“But a farm of terrible memories compared to a new family?”
Darius shrugged. “Her boys are buried on the farm. Bethany won’t ever leave them.”
It wouldn’t be a proper barbecue without some mention of a family tragedy. Sarah dropped her gaze, picking at an oyster.
“Oh yes, terrible spectacle.” Clyde flicked a lighter, puffing on a cigar. “Did they ever learn what caused that dreadful crash?”
Max answered before I could. “Pilot error.”
“Horrid,” Clyde said. “I saw it on the news.”
My father gossiped as though Sarah hadn’t paled at his side. “We all saw it. Just terrible footage.”
Bryant’s wife couldn’t help herself. “The news showed some of the cell phone videos from the highway. Nothing was left of the plane, only ash!”
“From what Bethany says, the family didn’t even know Josiah and Mike were flying that day,” my father said. “The news broke before they received a call from the authorities. Just shameful.”
Sarah coughed. The recognizable rasp clutched my throat. She could hide her tears, but speaking of her brothers still seemed to traumatize her. I reached into my jacket, searching for the inhaler. My fingers grazed the medication before stilling.
My father already handed Sarah a spare inhaler, anticipating her need before I did.
It confused her as much as me.
His smirk aimed for me—proud, cold.
A challenge.
I said nothing.
The dinner progressed, and the conversation turned from the violent deaths of Sarah’s brothers to lighter topics, centering on Reed and his upcoming Bennett Foundation Charity Gala.
Sarah perked up, abandoning her untouched oyster. “Oh, I can’t wait to attend. Reed’s been working so hard on making it the best event ever. It’ll be such fun.”
Could she not go ten minutes without endangering herself?
Reed stiffened, and Max downed his whiskey before looking to our father.
The gala. In public. Away from the grounds.
It’d be too difficult to control her beyond the confines of the estate, and far too suspicious if we didn’t let her loose.
My father nodded. “Of course. We’ll have to check your schedule.”
“I’ll make room. The Atwoods have never attended a Bennett gala, but I’ve heard so much about them. What better way to unite the families?”
“Here, here.” Clyde sneered. His cigar burned, and he puffed a ring of smoke into the air.
My father frowned. “Clyde, please, my poor daughter is asthmatic and recovering from a life-threatening attack.” He brushed her cheek and her defiance faded. “I’m trying to keep her comfortable now. Best not to smoke around someone in her condition.”
If Sarah didn’t rip his arm off, Max would. I gestured for Reed, but he already moved. He hauled Max from the table and offered to refresh drinks.
“Of course, of course.” Clyde patted out the cigar. “I would hate to put anyone at risk.”
“I’m fine.” Sarah’s anger would char the tablecloth.
“Nonsense,” my father said. “You keep that inhaler close, my dear. Use it anytime you start to worry.”
She’d shove it down his throat before using it in front of strangers. It hid under the rim of her plate, despite the soft cough she suppressed with her hand.
“It’s fortunate you are able to recover from your asthma in this beautiful estate.” Bryant said. “Darius, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, these grounds are gorgeous.”
“Made more beautiful with the addition of my daughter, I assure you.”
The guests chuckled. Sarah’s eyebrow rose. No good would come from that.
“If only I could see more of them.” She sighed as sweet as her lemonade though her tone soured just for us. “I’ve been regulated to a bed most days.”
“Doctor’s orders.” My father controlled himself. “Best to stay still and let nature take its course.”
“Oh, nature has a funny way of working things out.” She surveyed the members of the Bennett board without realizing how dangerous a mistake she made. “I’m sure I’ll be on top of the world in just a few months.”
The servers returned with another course of smoked meats and creamy macaroni and cheese which Sarah seemed to particularly enjoy. I made note of it, if only to somehow treat her with it in the future. At the end of the table, a waiter worked quickly to prepare a plate for a late-arrival. The once empty chair was claimed by a man I hadn�
�t expected.
Peter Hannigan took his seat—the lynchpin in the takeover, the last vote I needed and the hardest one for me to acquire.
I had invited him to the barbecue, but he declined, citing schedule conflicts which, traditionally, meant he was golfing his way along the East Coast. He greeted the men at the table, but he seemed at ease with the core of partners surrounding my father.
Men who should have been in direct opposition to Peter’s vision for the company.
I swallowed my profanity.
My father knew about the takeover. He must have realized which men allied with me.
Peter wasn’t here on my invitation.
My vision blurred with frustration. This barbecue wasn’t meant to humiliate Sarah. The bastard punished me.
“You’ve grown since I saw you last, Ms. Atwood.” Peter grinned, his teeth chalk white against his tanned, wind-burned face.
She hesitated. “Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t remember…”
“You were just a little thing,” Peter said. “Running around your Daddy while he refused my offer for some of his beef cattle. Just a pipsqueak then.”
“I…suppose I was.”
“But you’re radiant now.” His voice caught. He appraised her like a damn animal, even in the presence of two dozen business associates and their wives. He toasted my father. “She’s just beautiful. Simply…glowing.”
My father accepted the compliment and gestured for a passing server to refill my champagne.
I clenched my jaw. No doubt what we celebrated. It wasn’t Sarah’s health, and it wasn’t the arrival of his glorified step-daughter.
Glowing.
The word sickened me.
Peter Hannigan and I spoke only a week ago to finalize my bid for the takeover. Somehow, my father not only contacted him, he promised more than I did for his vote.
But I offered stability, a change in the business’s direction, steady profits…
Who knew how much of Atwood Industries my father offered Peter, but, as he gorged himself on our food and leered at my captive, he considered himself a richer, more powerful man with acres of corn and thousands of cattle earning him extra millions.
My father. Bryant. Jacob. Clyde. Stanley. And now Peter?
The barbecue wasn’t the only meat served on a platter for the wolves.
Sarah would be next.
I hadn’t anticipated this. I didn’t think it a possibility.
But I wasn’t going to present her to the hounds for their amusement. Sarah’s lemonade was empty. I didn’t even pretend to aim the pitcher over her glass. The iced liquid spilled over her beautiful dress. She shrieked, but I stood, gripping her arm.
“Sorry,” I grunted. “Clumsy. Let me escort you to the house so you can change.”
I didn’t let her answer. She escaped the table before my father could flick the handkerchief from his pocket to brush a straying ice cube from his suit. Sarah stumbled over the walkway as I forced her toward the house.
“Nick, what the hell?” She searched over her shoulder.
The kitchen was crowded with too many caterers. I dragged Sarah into the smoking room and closed the door, narrowly avoiding Reed’s foot edged in the entry. Both my brothers slipped inside. Sarah held her arms out—sticky and miserable.
“If I didn’t think the Bennetts were freaks for kidnapping me, I’d know it now.” She scowled. “Who the hell has a barbecue with linen tablecloths and oysters?”
Reed grinned. “Supposed to be an aphrodisiac—”
I hadn’t the patience for my little brother and interrupted him before he finished. “Sarah, go to your room and stay there. Don’t open the door for anyone but me.”
Max and Reed stilled, but Sarah never obeyed when I issued a command.
“Why?”
“It isn’t safe here.”
“But…” She rolled her eyes. “These are your investors.”
“Not anymore.”
Max swore. Reed tugged Sarah close, ignoring the sticky drink coating her dress and arms. I’d let him hold her, comfort her, but unless she was tucked between all three of us, I’d never consider her truly safe.
If we even could protect her. What I planned to do with her, to her, was anything but kind.
Unfortunately, we had no choice. No other alternatives.
Sarah had to conceive, regardless of her health or whatever she believed was wrong with her body.
My father wasn’t the only danger to her now.
“What’s wrong?”
It wasn’t often her voice trembled, but Sarah Atwood was right to feel fear, if only because I was afraid too.
But she wouldn’t like how I’d chose to defend myself.
“I just lost my majority,” I said.
“What does that mean?”
It meant that I’d failed her. It meant that everything I worked for, everything I planned, and the only way I had to protect her was not only gone, it was flaunted in front of my face by my father. He orchestrated the entire event, including revealing his alliances in a deliberate attempt to humiliate me.
And it worked.
I couldn’t share Sarah’s gaze.
“It means I just lost the takeover.”
4
Sarah
“All alone, baby?”
I flinched. My sandwich flopped onto the floor. The iced tea nearly followed, crashing into the sink.
Max and Reed laughed as I peeled myself off the kitchen counter and hid my trembling hands.
“Not funny.” My voice hardly raised above a whisper. I flushed. Darius wasn’t even in the house, and I still tip-toed around the kitchen like a coward.
“What are you doing without your leash?” Max twirled the leather around his finger. Reed tisked his tongue.
“Nick freed me before he left for the office.”
“Isn’t he a sweetheart.”
I didn’t like wandering downstairs. Without Nicholas at my side, my steps echoed too loudly, the stairs ached my lungs, and the shadows reached gangly fingers at me. Groping. Petting.
Hurting.
If it weren’t for the empty fridge in Nicholas’s suite, I’d have stayed tucked away in the corner of his bedroom until I turned twenty-one.
I wasn’t an optimistic person—even with my billions, I couldn’t buy luck, bargain for my freedom, or sell the damn company which now depended on an imaginary heir. I had to be pragmatic. I’d never conceive a child, Nicholas’s takeover failed before he moved on it, and I was trapped within the dungeon of a monster as his little play toy.
Darius had paraded me around the barbecue to his friends and partners, presenting me as a perfect daughter.
I couldn’t scream while the beast dared to touch, compliment, and degrade me.
No one knew what he had tried to do.
What he almost did.
What he would have done if Nicholas hadn’t rescued me just in time.
Suddenly, I wasn’t very hungry. Frustration curdled my stomach, but biting my lip drew blood. I imagined it wasn’t my own.
That helped.
Reed didn’t let me run. He tugged me into the dining room, setting my food aside to set me on the table. Max stole a potato chip. I pushed the plate toward him.
“You okay?” Reed’s dimple usually offered instant comfort, but it didn’t help now.
“Would you be okay?”
His fingers drifted over my arms, tickling where Nicholas had kissed in fierce silence as we showered. I wasn’t used to Reed so freely touching me. Neither was he.
“Nick asked us to…check on you.”
“He actually spoke to you?” I’d be jealous if I wasn’t worried. Reed’s fingers tangled in the dress straps. He brushed one over my shoulder. “He hardly talked to me this morning.”
“The takeover shit fucked with him.” Max drifted closer only to clip the leash on my collar. He tugged and teased me against his hand. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll take care of everything.”
&
nbsp; I didn’t doubt their commitment, but their solution would never work, no matter how much Nick hoped.
Tried.
In unforgiving silence, he took me that morning in the shower. I braced against the slippery tile as he burrowed himself within me again and again, grunting in a frustrated burst of muscle and force. It might have frightened me had I not recognized the adoration in his eyes. Except, after, the gold hardened, fracturing into an amber remorse. Nicholas left, angry and sullen.
But he promised to take care of me.
I didn’t need false hope. Their plan would never work. If I wanted to survive, I’d have to protect myself even without their breeding.
Nothing meant more to me than surviving. I had to live, if only so I could secure my future, my wealth, and my power from Darius’s defeat. I’d watch him crumble, make him squirm and panic, just how he humiliated me at the barbecue.
My revenge would punish Darius with the same fear and shame he forced on me.
Until then, Max twisted my leash, and Reed flicked down the strap of the dress protecting my curves from the hungry gaze of my step-brothers.
Nicholas demanded my submission. Some orders were easier to obey than others, especially when commanded by two sexy, attentive, and demanding men. Max no longer frightened me, and I didn’t suffer the unfamiliar awkwardness around Reed. Now, my insides fluttered in different ways when presented before them.
Max bulked and lifted, forging a strength that threatened more than it protected. Dark, spiraling tattoos striped his chest…and lower. Max took pride in his ink, preferring the symbols to a designer suit. A Bennett didn’t use tattoos to intimidate, but Max possessed a darkness that forced my pleasure instead of earning it.
Not like Reed. Nothing about the sun-bleached surfer was menacing…unless I happened to fall for the dimple framing his charming smile and silken laugh. Everything Reed did was meant to earn my pleasure. His simple affection conquered me without Nicholas’s possession or Max’s flogger, and he did it with an expert’s precision.
I blushed under their attention. Both of my step-brothers honed their bodies to perfection.
And they planned to feast on mine.
Reed bundled my dress over my hips.
“Panties?” He groaned. “Really?”