Takeover: The Complete Series

by Lana Grayson

  “Don’t be sorry. Just be here. With me. Inside me.”

  If I had the ability to rise, I might have pulled him into my embrace, but the dizzying lust swirled my thoughts and surrendered me to his control. He preferred me that way—tamed and waiting. His weight settled over me, protecting me within the straining muscles and practiced strength. I gripped his shoulders and shuddered as the hardness of his chest mimicked what pressed against my core.

  His lips found mine. I gave him everything with no protest or fear, secrets or shame, pain or tension.

  I expected to dread the moment I was pinned under him.

  Instead, his touch warmed as a gift, and my body received his every penance.

  He slipped within me in a single stroke—and I met the sweet gold of his eyes with every shock, every surprise, and every delight of the first time he had taken me months ago.

  The world and its cruelties brought us together.

  Our love and devotion twisted the ugly into perfection.

  I filled with him, thoroughly, completely, and with such eagerness I wept at his touch.

  Our embrace was nothing like how we loved before. Not like when we hid at the estate and he mounted me with feral instinct and quick desperation.

  This was desire. Pure, uninhibited passion.

  All pretense stripped as he thrust within me, burying his sins and abandoning our fears.

  No submission, no ulterior intents, no pain.

  Just…whole.

  For the first time, for the first moments ever.

  We melded together in understanding and peace. His every stroke imbedded within me, proving and pledging and demonstrating his love. I murmured and arched, accepting all he offered with a shuddering bump of my hips. The deeper he plunged, the greater our devotion, the more serene the moment, the harder our crest and more desperate our joining.

  I cried out for him once, twice, three times, destroying myself with shivers and letting his strength rebuild me and brace me and take me again and again.

  I lived without his love for a month.

  I’d have to live without it again.

  Our movements rolled with a bittersweet sadness—a way to prove our words and offer every promise of love. We dulled the memories and replaced the bleak darkness with a burst light and tempted courage.

  In such a short time, Nicholas Bennett had become more than my captor or lover.

  He was my reason to live, my strength in the world, and the greatest challenge I had ever endured.

  His pleasure was mine, and my delights his victories, and with every shared breath and synced heartbeat, I abandoned my hope for a life beyond the Bennett’s control and instead wished for one where I would never again part from his side.

  His motions quickened, and the hardness in me grew. I gripped him, urging his movements, begging to grant him the same releases he freed within me.

  His quickening pace and surging aggression wasn’t meant to frighten me.

  I wasn’t taken, but loved.

  He didn’t dominate me but worshiped everything that I was.

  Once I had been used. Now, I was adored, warmed, and cherished.

  Our bodies melded. My heart fluttered. I cried out.

  Nicholas kissed me as his length sheathed entirely within me, stealing my voice and silencing me with the same boundless passion that filled me with his endless heat, wanting, and grateful release.

  If my vision was lost within the burst of my delight, my breath forsaken in a quiet gasp, and my heart stilled in the clutching swell of our bodies, I’d have celebrated my last second of completeness that joined us as one.

  I wept and clutched at Nicholas, holding him tight against me as the stresses of the past month faded. He held me and whispered of his own fears, bracing me against him with a fierce kiss. He parted from me and gathered me close to cradle me to his chest.

  But the lazy moments spent with his fingers brushing my hair and his kisses upon my temple weren’t meant to last.

  I knew better than to hope, even if my voice could only whisper the truth.

  “Why are you really here, Nick?”

  He exhaled, his touch memorizing the angles on my face, the puffiness of my offered lips.

  “I saved your life today.”

  The trust.

  My heart beat faster.

  “Roman Wescott signed the amendment?” I paused after he nodded, lowering my head to his chest. “Now what happens?”

  “The board holds to their end of the bargain. In a few days, the agreement of sale will be prepared, and you sign over the stock from the trust. Then, they won’t have reason to hurt you.”

  “And you? You lose everything, Nick.”

  “I still have my original holdings.” His voice hardened. “And my inheritance.”

  “It’s not enough.”

  His grip tightened. “It is for now.”

  “You can’t overthrow him without a majority.”

  “And you wouldn’t live without the trade.”

  “It’s not a good sacrifice.”

  “I could say the same for some of yours.”

  Neither of us would win that game.

  “What about Darius?” I whispered.

  “Don’t worry about him.”

  The kiss to my forehead cured the fever but not the infection. It’d be easier for me if I knew where he was, how to avoid him, what I could do to stop him.

  “How long do you expect me to hide?”

  Nicholas prepared for the question. He didn’t apologize. “As long as it takes.”

  “I can’t do this for much longer.”

  “You have to.”

  I leaned up, waving over the chalet. Though the little cabin crammed modern luxury in a small space, no amount of Jacuzzi tubs, granite countertops, or vaulted ceilings could compare to home.

  Wherever that was now.

  “This isn’t a life,” I said. “I’m not wearing a collar, but this isn’t freedom. I’m more a prisoner here than I ever was at the estate. There I might have been in danger, but at least…I had you.” I shrugged. “I had Reed and Max and…hope.”

  “Sarah, this is only temporary. I’ll save you from him, but you have to listen to me, you have to do as I say and trust me. Really trust me.”

  “I do.”

  “In this?”

  I no longer had to lie. “Yes.”

  “Then I’m asking you to stay hidden, just until the trust is dissolved and we’ll only have one man to control.”

  He shifted, easing from the bed and reaching for his clothes.

  My stomach pitted. “You’re leaving.”

  “I have to.”

  “Why?”

  He tugged on his pants, glancing at me with a gaze that might have scolded had he not shared the same heartache.

  “Anyone might have followed me,” he said. “Anyone might be wondering where I am. It’s selfish of me to even be here.”

  “They won’t miss you for one night.”

  “He will.”

  My heart would crush before I let another tear escape, but the pain stole my remaining courage.

  I realized he couldn’t stay, but I had no idea my moments with him would end so quickly.

  “Let’s run together then.” I followed him, slipping into my robe as he shook his head. “Nick, we have the money, the ability. We just leave it behind. Tonight. We can forget everything that ever happened. The kidnappings and the beatings and Darius. We can start new somewhere else and be together.”

  “And you’d let my father win?”

  “Nicholas, he’s already won. There is nothing else for him in this world. Let him rot in his wealth, and we’ll start our own lives, far from all this insanity.”

  “And Max and Reed?” Nicholas asked. I looked away. “Your mother? Your company? You could no sooner walk away from your responsibilities than I can mine.”

  “So what then? You leave, and I stay in my prison? You surrender my only power over to your father
, and then…somehow take over the Bennett Corporation without a majority or any allies on the board?”

  “And you stay safe.” Nicholas took my chin in his hand. “You listen to me and stay far from trouble. I’ll be back soon with the sales agreements, and then we can decide what to do. But I am not risking your life. You are everything to me, Sarah Atwood. And I would sooner imprison you in this cabin and bind you under lock and key than give him the chance to hurt you.”

  I believed him. That was the problem.

  I said nothing as he finished dressing. I followed him downstairs, earning a gentle nuzzle from Hamlet. He basked before the fireplace.

  “Thank you for bringing my dog.”

  “Thought you’d be lonely,” He said. “Reed’s gonna miss him, but you need him more.”

  My perfect night couldn’t end in such misery. I stepped into his arms and held him tight.

  “I’ll come for you.” He kissed me, brushing my lips with a promise that did little to ease my fears. “I promise.”

  He patted Hamlet and wished me a goodnight. The door closed.

  And my hopes fled with him.

  I collapsed on the couch and cradled Hamlet. He flopped over me, a fuzzy hug of pure love, but I wished for something more.

  The pit in my stomach only grew.

  I woke from a sweaty sleep with a start.

  Hamlet growled.

  Hamlet never growled.

  The knock came quietly, same as before. I pushed the dog from my lap, but eighty-pounds of stubborn goldendoodle was difficult to shift. I flicked at his nose and frowned.

  “Ham, it’s Nick. He came back. Get up.”

  He growled again. What the hell got into him?

  I retied my robe and thought of a clever I told you so to serve at Nicholas.

  I knew he’d want to spend the night in my arms. No one would miss him. No one would find me. And at least we’d be happy, if only for one night.

  I wrapped the blanket over my shoulders and bound to the entry, unlocking the bolt and sweeping the door wide—an invitation inside where it was warm and safe.

  Hamlet barked.

  The blanket dropped to the ground.

  It wasn’t worth screaming.

  No one would hear. Any breath I wasted would be one less I had to survive. My chest tightened, and my throat closed without a desperate gasp.

  I stared into the leering, malicious, and lust-shaded eyes of Darius Bennett.

  Darius stepped inside and shut the door. He switched the lock with a solemn click.

  His voice struck like a punch to the gut, but he wouldn’t have to strike me.

  Not now. Not here.

  Not when I was so far from anyone who might have saved me.

  “Hello, my dear.”

  22

  Sarah - Six Weeks Later

  Run.

  I groaned.

  Run.

  The last thing I wanted was another night searching for a motel that accepted dogs but wouldn’t lace Hamlet with fleas. It took long enough to find this one, but three nights in the same place was too risky.

  Run.

  Hamlet whined at me. Somehow, the bowl of kibbles was more appetizing than the burger. I picked at the bun. It tasted way too sweet, but the bread was better than the grey burger, limp and greasy and smelling like…

  I bolted to the bathroom.

  Like it wasn’t bad enough trying to escape from Darius Bennett without suffering through an endless flu. I didn’t know what was worse. The running or the exhaustion. The nausea or the headaches.

  Ugh.

  I wiped my mouth and grimaced as I stared into the mirror.

  Enough time had passed that the bruises faded on my cheek, but I still saw them. It was easier to run with the black eye. At least then, the hotel clerks didn’t ask questions when I ordered a room, paid in cash, and demanded absolute privacy.

  I slipped from the bathroom and tossed Hamlet the rest of the burger. It was too late to eat such horrid food anyway. The clock blinked close to one, but it wasn’t like it mattered. I sure as hell wasn’t going back to sleep just to suffer through another nightmare.

  Darius attacking me once was enough.

  I didn’t need to relive it again and again in my sleep.

  My cheeks wetted. I scoured my face with my nails.

  I spared no tears for Darius or his violence, and I tried not to weep for Nicholas. I didn’t have time to pity myself, not if I planned to ensure it never happened again.

  Darius had laid over me, destroyed my pride, and made the same promises as his son.

  He swore he’d return.

  And so I ran.

  I hadn’t stopped running, or hiding, or protecting myself.

  Even to tell Nicholas that I had gone.

  I shuddered.

  And I would never tell him what happened.

  My stomach heaved again. I groaned. It lurched every day since the attack. I hoped gaining some control over my life would calm it, that the disgust and shame might have faded.

  The night with Nicholas ended in horror, and I lost every promise of his love in the vile assault. I wanted to believe Nicholas could keep me safe. I wanted to use his strength to repair what Darius broke within me.

  But I wasn’t about to depend on another for my safety.

  Not anymore.

  Not after…

  I rushed to the bathroom again. Hamlet whined from the bed before following.

  At least I had a traveling buddy.

  My lifelong friend helped to pass the time. He didn’t judge when I sat in a silent, dangerous rage or when I plotted my every revenge against a man I no longer had the courage to face.

  “Six weeks, Ham.”

  I patted him and counted the days since I ran away.

  Had it really been that long? That lonely? I remembered everything in perfect detail from that night. Nicholas’s touch. Darius’s grunts.

  I hugged Hamlet. “Six miserable weeks…”

  The nausea returned.

  Six. Weeks.

  Pin-prickles of panic raced heat and chills along the back of my neck, squeezing instantly into an attack that forced me to dive for my inhaler.

  It was a ridiculous thought, a stress induced fear that I had no time to indulge.

  I looked at the clock. Anxiety pulled me from the bed.

  I left Hamlet and worked up the courage to enter the first drugstore I saw. I tossed a twenty at the counter and hurried to the motel, slamming and dead-bolting the door behind me as though it would lock out all the terrible possibilities.

  The test wasn’t nearly as intimidating the first time I took one, even with my step-father and his sons all in audience to witness their failure.

  I tapped my fingers against the counter as the time ticked down.

  I threw up before I read the results. I already knew what it’d say.

  I braced against the wall, sliding to the floor.

  The test exposed my new, terrible, and impossible secret.

  Pregnant.

  Capital Risk (Legacy Book 3)

  1

  Sarah

  It isn’t his.

  It isn’t his.

  It isn’t his.

  The words recoiled in my mind like a gunshot.

  The truth didn’t break my heart—it ruptured, bled, and ground it to ash.

  A surge of bile burned my throat. Morning sickness was dreadful, but this time it wasn’t the baby. The lingering shadow of my nightmare leeched the courage from me.

  I woke in a cold sweat, fearing the pounding of fists knocking at my door.

  Silence. Only the hum of the broken air-conditioner crackled the stillness.

  Hamlet wasn’t the best guard dog. He wasn’t a guard anything, but even he might have rolled over if someone had broken into my room. Instead he grumbled, snored, and tucked next to me, claiming most of the bed.

  At least he could sleep.

  I slunk from the bed to double-check the deadbolt. Th
e metal knob didn’t reassure me. No lock in the world would protect me from them.

  From him.

  And that was why it was time to stop running.

  The hotel’s humidity suffocated me, but the shower sputtered icy water. I washed quickly, my hand just barely brushing my belly. My tummy was still flat.

  Unnoticeable.

  But I knew.

  The wedding sucked, but at least Josiah brought me a drink with more rum than Coke. I gulped it down before Mike took it away. Unfair. He was already trashed.

  “How long do we have to stay?” I picked at a hunk of sugary cake. A blob of icing smeared over my black dress. I rubbed it off. “I can’t be around these people anymore.”

  Josiah got Mom’s looks but Dad’s impatience. “Sprout, just smile and eat your cake. All you gotta do is take a couple pictures. We’re the ones dealing with these assholes.”

  “Oh, I’ll gladly deal with Darius for you.”

  “Not happening,” Mike said. “I don’t trust that bastard. You stay as far from him as you can. In fact, steer clear of all the Bennetts. They’re bad news.”

  “Too late.” Josiah stiffened and crossed his arms, more bouncer than brother. “Try not to accuse anyone of murder, Sprout. Not while the minister’s still around.”

  The golden-eyed intruder nodded to my brothers before offering his hand for a formal handshake. My brothers refused, but one of us needed to be polite. I slipped my palm into his and blamed the rum for the quick flush to my cheeks.

  If Nicholas Bennett noticed, he said nothing.

  I liked the melty-smoothness of his voice and decided against throwing my drink in his face.

  “Ms. Atwood, would you care to dance?”

  Mom said to be cordial, and Nicholas seemed sincere enough. The radiating heat from his hand cascaded over me in unwelcomed shivers….shivers too good to feel for a Bennett. I nodded. One dance, and then I could pretend I behaved myself at a wedding more enemy infiltration than celebration.

  Like a proper gentleman, Nicholas led me to the dance floor, but a condescending slur interrupted us with false praise and deceitful compliments.