The Corrupt Billionaire COMPLETE Box Set

by Hope, Camilla

  If I was near death, a psycho like that probably took no pleasure in my nightmare finally coming to a close, and I pictured him simply pulling the needle out when my body sagged and burying me in some shallow unmarked grave. No, there was too much chance that someone or something would uncover my battered corpse. It seemed more likely that he would commit my lifeless body to fire or chop me up into a million tiny pieces so that no one could ever put me back together and learn my fate.

  The thought of going out like that, remaining an unsolved mystery until everyone I loved eventually got back to the business of their lives and I became a distant memory, filled me with an unspeakable sadness, and I reached for the needle with a weak, trembling hand. Even though defiance might only add to my torment, I had to pry it from my aching arm. I still didn’t want to die.

  “Caroline?”

  A hand touched my other shoulder, and the voice seemed so far away. Unable and unwilling to meet Morgan’s cruel stare and hear some teasing question as to just what the hell I thought I was doing, I abandoned my attempt to escape whatever the mad man was flooding me with and bit down on my lip.

  “Please,” I muttered, my own voice coming out in little more than a wretched whisper. “Please no more.”

  “Caroline.”

  A hand reached under my chin, and I tightly closed my eyes, lacking the strength to resist the feel of him dragging my face closer to his.

  “Please stop. I… I can’t take anymore,” I pleaded feebly.

  “It’s okay, Gypsy. You’re safe now.”

  Blinking fast, I slowly focused on the sight of Peter looking down at me. His dark eyes were wide and full of worry, but the corners of his lips curled into a comforting smile as he stroked my cheeks and leaned closer.

  “Peter?” I asked, unsure if he was real or just another dream that I might have some chance of escaping into.

  But it had to the latter. Morgan had told me that Peter had been dealt with and that no one else would ever have any idea where to find me or even start looking. Was I already dead? Seeing him was like confirmation that heaven actually existed, and I started to relax into the reunion and the reality of being back with him on any plane when he lightly kissed my cheek and dragged his lips towards my ear.

  “You’re in hospital,” he said softly. “Getting the best care. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.”

  As soon as he started to pull away, I grabbed his face and peered at him hard.

  “You… you found me?” I murmured, my eyes brimming with tears and disbelief as he nodded softly.

  “Of course,” he said. “Like there was any way that I was ever going to let you go.”

  At the sound of those words, I finally took in my new surroundings. Despite the dim light, this was not a prison. The pillow under my head was as real as the bed that cradled my aching limbs, and through the slight crack in the door, I caught a quick glimpse of a cart with trays being wheeled past. Flashing my eyes back to the needle, I quizzically stared at it and looked back to Peter with an unspoken question on my lips.

  “Just an IV drip,” he gently assured me. “You’re dehydrated.”

  At those words I nodded and closed my eyes again.

  “No water,” I whispered hoarsely. “He… Morgan wouldn’t let me…”

  “I know, Caroline,” he crooned as he rested his brow to mine and kissed my hair. “You must have been so scared.”

  That was only the half of it, and I started to speak again when I burst into tears.

  “What he… Peter… the things that he did to me…”

  “Shhh,” he said as he gathered me in his arms and held me tight in a tender embrace. “It’s over now. I’ve got you.”

  I started to ask him how he knew, how he had known where to look and how he’d got past Morgan when I suddenly didn’t care. He was here; he was real, and I clung to his neck as I sobbed into his shoulder.

  “Oh, Peter,” I whimpered. “I thought… he told me that you were dead.”

  “Not by a long shot,” he promised. “Right here. You just hold on to me.”

  He didn’t have to ask a second time as I ran my trembling fingers down his broad chest, up the back of his neck, through his hair. I had to keep touching him, assuring myself over and over again that I was back in his arms, and when I peered into his eyes again, I longed to tell him what had happened when the idea or reliving it any form suddenly became too much to bear. Shaking my head, he brought his gentle kiss to my quivering lips before his whisper hit my ear again.

  “You don’t have to talk,” he said. “Just rest now.”

  Grateful for the first show of mercy in what felt like forever, I gulped back a fresh sob and started to sink back into the sheets when I parted my lips to ask for more.

  “Lay with me?” I asked. “I need to feel you next to me.”

  Peter quickly complied and lifted his body into the narrow bed. He curled close to my side and kept me in his arms as he stroked my arms and kissed my cheeks.

  “That better?” he asked.

  “So much better,” I muttered. “I… I missed you, Peter.”

  “Same here,” he said.

  We were silent as he stroked my stinging back and kept kissing my hair. A small part of me feared that I was still dreaming, that I would be jolted awake at any moment to a fresh wave of torture. What if Morgan was lurking right outside the room, posing as an orderly or something and ready to take me back to the dungeon and make the lie that was Peter’s demise a crushing reality? I shook violently at the idea, and Peter brushed the hair from my damp face and nuzzled my nose.

  “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he said.

  “But… but Morgan…”

  Just the act of pushing his vile name past my lips made me want to wretch, but Peter cupped my chin in his hands and narrowed his eyes.

  “He’s gone, Caroline,” he whispered. “That fucker will never touch you or anyone else ever again.”

  The thought of that comforted me, and I started to nod when I suddenly gripped his arm.

  “You… you killed him?” I whispered, afraid that someone might hear.

  “Had to be done,” he said in a thick voice. “After what he put you through…”

  And he had yet to hear the whole story.

  “But won’t you get in trouble?” I asked as I lowered my voice still further and barely breathed into his neck.

  “I know a thing or two about covering my tracks,” he assured me.

  “Who… why did he…?”

  “Same old story. They want me back to work. But I’m not doing it. Just believe me when I tell you that this will never come back around to bite us,” he said firmly.

  I started to ask him how he had eradicated Morgan, why he was so very sure of himself, but his kisses and his hands were too sweet to sully with even one more mention of the phony pilot’s name, and I snuggled closer to his side and bunched his shirt between my fingers.

  “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for coming after me.”

  “Always, Gypsy. Always.”

  I pressed my ear to his chest and smiled at the sound of his heart beating against my cheek. All the ways that I knew that he meant everything to me, especially when Morgan had said he was dead were only intensified by the feel of him warm and strong against my side. My eyes started to flutter when I pushed away from the bed.

  “Caroline?”

  “I don’t want to fall asleep,” I said. “What if you’re not here when I wake up?”

  He eased my head back to the pillow and kissed my eyes.

  “Not a chance in hell,” he said. “Believe me, Gypsy. I’m not going anywhere.”

  His words and his kisses comforted me, and I slipped into the blackness with the feel of his hand on my back.

  Chapter Seven

  “Are you okay here for now?” Peter asked.

  Every stick of antiqued furniture was back in place, and even though the room still carried memories of Morgan conning me to follow
him to the darkest pits of hell, Peter and I had had our own fun in this space. I smiled brightly as I took his hands and kissed his lips.

  “I’m okay anywhere with you.”

  My hospital stay had been short and sweet. Peter never left my side and made sure that I ate every meal brought to my bed. Never in my life had I consumed so much Jell-O, but it tasted like the nectar of the gods.

  Some perfunctory questions came on account of the local police. Peter said that it was a mugging gone wrong, and that the men who’d mugged us had been wearing masks so he couldn’t give them a description. He said he’d followed them when they took me captive and had waited his chance to rescue me. He told them they’d taken me out of town to a clearing in a wood and whipped me and I smiled to myself as I heard him say it was in the opposite direction to the place where I’d really been held. If the police thought the story sounded far-fetched they didn’t say and I was thankful for that.

  Never thought of reaching out to the law for some kind of help, Sir?

  My only thought was getting her back.

  I confirmed his version of events and felt a little guilty when I lied that I had no idea who my captors had been or where they were now.

  No one connected the so-called random act of arson to my plight. And the house which had burned down had been derelict for many years and so they didn’t look too closely at the ashes.

  I recalled one news story or another where civilians that wasted the police’s valuable time on the back of a lie could be held accountable for their actions. But was there any real harm? We were left alone to lick our wounds, and as soon as I was deemed fit for discharge, Peter signed the necessary paperwork and scooped me up in his arms.

  “I’ll get us another flight out first thing,” he said. “Just for tonight, I…”

  “It’s okay, Peter. I’m fine. Really.”

  Walking around the room, I tried to tell myself that it was the truth but while I was in the hospital, my sleep had been shallow at best. I kept fearing that Morgan would somehow turn up to finish what he had started, but every time I tried to share my fears with Peter, I couldn’t bring myself to add to his worries. Better to play it like I was already repressing it. Something told me that I had the skill for such an act, and I sat at the edge of the bed as he knelt down and massaged my legs.

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  “Please no more Jell-O,” I teased.

  “Definitely not,” he said. “Thinking we would order in. I… I wasn’t sure if you’d be up to anything in public.”

  Flinging my arms around his neck, grateful that he was already ahead of me on that front, I kissed his temples and smiled into his eyes.

  “Order everything you can,” I said. “I’ll just grab a shower.”

  “Want me to join you?” has asked as he waggled his eyebrows.

  I started to honor his request, a part of me longing to feel his lips racing down my damp sides when I smiled meekly and patted his cheek. I knew that it was too soon and that I still had yet to heal.

  “You just see to dinner,” I said. “I’ll take care of the rest.”

  He kissed the top of my head and helped me to my feet.

  “I’ll have everything waiting as soon as you get out.”

  Once I closed the bathroom door, I stripped and stared at my body in the mirror. The bruises were leaving my back, and I reached between my legs and stroked my soft hairs. Pushing down just a little, I reminded myself that Morgan hadn’t violated me there. But my flesh still stung from the lashes of the whip and I remembered his cold comments that none of it was mine anymore.

  Turning my attention to the sink, I splashed several streams of cold water across my face and made the water warm as I snatched a washcloth from the side of the tub. As I gently massaged my lacerated mound, I gritted my teeth and stared in the mirror.

  “It’s mine,” I hissed. “My body. And it’s only for Peter.”

  Stepping into the shower, I let the running water cascade down my back as I wiped the torment away. A hospital shower was one thing, but the stall was too narrow to ever truly feel clean, and as I slipped down the sleek wall and gathered my knees close to my breasts, I started to feel better even as I wondered if I’d truly be able to touch Peter again without the memory of….

  “Stop it,” I muttered under my breath. “It was never rape.”

  “Caroline? You okay?”

  The sound of his gentle knock shook me from an unwelcome and unwanted reverie, and I stood to push the shower curtain aside as I called out lightly.

  “Just another minute,” I said. “Hope the food’s waiting.”

  “I got everything,” Peter called.

  Washing my hair quickly, I relished the feel of the suds trailing down my neck, my back, and I scrubbed between my legs in earnest. Biting down on my lip to stifle any screams that might make him worry, I felt better when I emerged from the tub with glistening, sweet-smelling skin, and I tied my hair in a messy bun over my neck as I slipped into a robe and sauntered back to his side.

  “Oh my God! You… you really…” I said as I stared at the mountain of food.

  “You said, Gypsy,” Peter grinned.

  Two boxes of pizza and several cartons of Chinese food rested beside foil packages containing salads and French fries. I pulled a golden brown potato from the platter and plopped it into my mouth.

  “Just hope you have something to wash it down with,” I said.

  “Naturally.”

  A bottle of wine was already chilling, and he popped the cork and poured out two glasses. Downing it quickly and asking for another, the liquor started to rush to my head as he sat me down on the floor and offered me a fried dumpling.

  “Here you go,” he said. “I like to see to getting your strength back.”

  The dough pocket melted in my mouth, and I swallowed the meat without chewing as I popped a few more fries into my mouth and asked for another glass of wine.

  “Not too much on an empty stomach,” he cautioned.

  “I’m eating, Peter. See,” I said waving a fry under his nose.

  Fumbling with the chopsticks, I awkwardly brought a few noodles to my mouth and slurped them down. Peter inched closer to my side and folded his arm around my back.

  “Why everything?” he asked. “Something you want to talk about?”

  Should I try to tell him now? Should I tell him how it felt to be strung up by my wrists and feel my stomach growling as Morgan gnawed a leg of chicken just a few feet from my eyes and threw the naked bone at my feet? I started for a piece of sweet and sour chicken sans sauce when I gagged on the idea and went for the wine again.

  “It’s not important,” I decided.

  I polished off a healthy helping of the bottle and started to feel drowsy when Peter embraced me.

  “Caroline, I… I saw some of what he did to you,” he started. “You were tied up. Broken and…”

  “He didn’t break me, Peter,” I insisted. “Is that what you think?”

  “Gypsy. I…”

  “And now he’s never going to get the chance to, right?” I asked.

  I took another swig from the bottle and stumbled to my feet. Peter caught me before I could fall.

  “I took care of it,” he said. “But if you need to talk.”

  “Talk is cheap,” I slurred.

  Draining the bottle dry, I let the empty vessel fall to the ground with a quick thud, and as my head spun, I grabbed his face and pulled him back to the bed.

  “Take me,” I said. “I want to be yours again.”

  Pulling the robe away from my body, I pressed his hands to my sides and felt his lips on my breasts when he suddenly drew back.

  “Problem?” I asked, my speech slightly slurred.

  “You don’t… we don’t have to do this right now,” he said.

  “Why not?” I said as I stretched to my knees and grabbed his arms. “Am I ruined for you?”

  “No. Never. But…”

  “Then ta
ke me,” I insisted. “Show me how much you really missed me.”

  My hands were clumsy around his belt, and he kept trying to push away when I seized his hair.

  “I sold your story to the cops,” I said. “Now you need to do this for me.”

  I fell back to the bed and licked my lips as I beckoned him closer. Peter seemed tempted, and I sighed in delight as he peeled his shirt from his arms. Laughing as I twisted my head back and forth across the space of the pillow, I spread my legs and waited for his thrust when he suddenly shifted to his feet and lowered his eyes.

  “Why are you stopping?” I asked, struggling to enunciate the words. “Can’t get it up?”

  Peter tried to speak when I propped my body up on my elbows, my head lolling against my breasts.

  “He couldn’t either,” I said.

  “Caroline, what…?”

  “I mean… I mean just picture it,” I laughed. “Me, all strung up and totally helpless. Only thing hard was the whip!”

  Feeling drunker with each passing second, I expected him to get the joke and share in my laughter when he bent back to the bed and started to cover me with the robe.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “You never should have been in the middle of this.”

  He started to tighten the belt around my waist when I wheeled back and slapped him hard.

  “But it was your man!” I said drunkenly.

  “Morgan was never…”

  “And you saved me. I get that,” I said loudly. “But what now? Feed me like some stray dog? Never want to touch me again?”

  “Of course I want to touch you,” he said. “But you don’t really want it like this. Caroline…”

  “Don’t tell me what I want!” I screamed. “I… I want it never to have happened. But I can’t wash it away. Not Morgan or…”

  I slapped my hands to my mouth and fell back to the sheets. Sobbing into my palm, I almost wished I was dead when Peter was at my side, spooning my body from behind.

  “I’m touching you, Caroline. Feel my hands,” he said.