Captivated_Kobo

by Steph

  CAPTIVATED

  AIDEN & OLIVIA

  PART I

  Stephanie Julian

  Copyright © 2017 by Stephanie Julian

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at stephaniejulian@msn.com.

  All characters in this book are fiction and figments of the author’s imagination.

  Chapter One

  Olivia

  After five ass-numbing hours of surveillance, the light shining through the second-floor window finally dims and I shimmy down the forty-foot oak tree, silent as a shadow.

  The only things between me and my prize are the high stone wall topped by an electrified cable and the almost impenetrable system guarding the doors and windows of the massive stone mansion beyond the wall.

  Set deep in the hills of northern Berks County, Pennsylvania, the estate sits in the middle of a hundred and fifty acres of dense forest. If you didn’t know it’s here, you’d never find it. The only way in is a paved lane that rambles through the woods until finally the paving gives way to bare ground and you think you’re totally lost.

  My dad gave me explicit directions. Now it’s up to me to complete the job.

  Only this isn’t just any other job. This is life and death.

  My dad’s life depends on it. And without my dad, my sister’s freedom will be in danger.

  Failure is not an option.

  Luckily, Dad taught me well.

  Moving through the forest with the surety of two weeks of reconnaissance, I reach my point of entry without incident and start to climb.

  The rough fieldstone provides plenty of foot-and handholds and I’m at the top of the wall in less than a minute. The live cable at the top would be a problem for someone bigger than me but I’m able to slide beneath without electrocuting myself.

  My ear comes within a hair of the cable and electricity whispers against my skin, the fine hair on my neck quivering in anticipation of the shock.

  A lesser man might’ve flinched. I’m not a man.

  On the other side, I take a second to breathe and center myself before starting my descent. My arm and leg muscles shake but if I drop, I could make too much noise and set off the two dogs. I have tranquilizer darts in my belt, if I need them. I really hope I don’t.

  Most nights, the man who lives here takes the purebred German Shepherds inside with him. They appear to be pets, not guard dogs. The only companions the man has.

  During the past two weeks, I’ve seen no one go inside except a woman who seems to be the housekeeper.

  The guy appears to be a hermit. A nameless recluse who never leaves the property owned by a shell company with holdings all over the world. All of my digging never produced a name associated with this company. At least, not a real name.

  Someone has gone to an awful lot of trouble to conceal the owner’s identity. It’s a huge red flag but it’s not enough to stop me.

  The building had been built more than a century ago by some rich steel magnate as a summer home for his wife and kids. They’d stayed here for about three months out of the year then returned to their New York brownstone or their Pittsburgh mansion. Must’ve been a nice life.

  It’d stayed in the family until about fifty years ago when that owner had been forced to sell the house to cover his alimony. Just another entitled asshole who couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Why did rich people think they’ll never get caught?

  That’s when Squire Incorporated bought it for much less than its value. I have no idea when the man currently occupying the house moved in.

  I want to have all the facts I can find when I pull a job like this, especially one as important as this. If I don’t have them, I get twitchy. I’m twitchy now.

  I need the file hidden in the mansion’s library. Dad’s depending on me. I can’t let him or my sister down.

  I trip none of the security floodlights as I make my way to the back of the building, where I’ve identified my entry. A small window on the third floor. The only one not connected to the security system and much too small for a full-grown man to fit through. I’m twenty-five but I’ll fit through that window. It’ll be tight but not impossible.

  The tough part will be the climb. The house is made of stone but much smoother than the outer wall. Not as many foot-and handholds. And if I fall, I’ll fall into the thorny hedges growing around the base of the building. It’ll hurt like hell and I’ll probably end up with a few holes I don’t need or want.

  So I can’t fall.

  Just another day on the job, Livvie.

  I hear my dad’s voice in my head and shake it out. If I think too much about the situation, I’ll get pissed. And when I get pissed, I get irrational. I may even cry. And I can’t afford that now.

  I’ve studied the building from every angle and mapped out my climb using photos I’ve taken, but this is the first time I’m seeing it up close. It’s going to be the toughest climb I’ve ever attempted. With the highest stakes.

  Shoving down sudden nerves, I take several deep breaths to center myself once again, forcing down my heart rate.

  I can do this. I graduated from indoor rock walls to military-grade parkour when I was twelve.

  Just another climb.

  Pulling on my fingerless climbing gloves, I set my grip and start, pulling myself up, inch by inch.

  I can’t go straight to the window. I have to take a zigzag approach, searching for the best holds. I slip about halfway up, feet dangling for a second before I can continue.

  My heart races but I take a few moments to still, my toes clad in thin climbing shoes jammed into tiny crevasses in the wall. When I continue, I’ve managed to shove out every thought but one.

  I have to get that file.

  It takes me half an hour to reach the window. My muscles sting but I take the time to double-check the window to make sure it’s not wired to the alarm system.

  It’s not but it is locked from the inside. I have to open it with one hand. Luckily, it’s an old wooden latch. Unluckily, it probably hasn’t been opened for years, maybe decades, and it’s stuck.

  It takes me a good ten minutes to get the damn thing to release, and my arm and leg muscles now scream in protest. I need to get inside and I need to do it fast.

  I swing the window open as slowly as I can but it still screeches loudly enough to make my breath freeze in my lungs. After a minute of not hearing a sound, I shimmy through the window. It’s a tighter fit than I thought it would be, and I’m breathing heavily when I finally land on my feet and take a look around.

  Whoa. Not what I’d been expecting.

  I thought I’d be in an attic since the window was on the top floor. Dusty floors, cobwebs, lots of junk to maneuver around.

  Instead, it’s a bedroom.

  From the moonlight streaming through the window, I can make out the bed on the opposite side of the room. An imposing four-poster with a canopy, which should make it look girly. It doesn’t. The dark drapes hanging from the rails look heavy and the bed frame is huge. I wouldn’t be surprised if the mattress is bigger than a king.

  It looks like a prop in a Victorian horror movie and fits the room perfectly. The walls are papered, the pattern partly shiny and reflecting the moonlight. The rest of the furniture matches the bed. Oversized. Dark wood. Heavily carved.

  Ominous.

  I shiver for no reason.

  The room’s empty and I hear nothing from the rest of
the house. No alarms, no footsteps pounding up the stairs, no dogs barking.

  The door to the room is closed and I make my way toward it, only to have my attention drawn to that bed again.

  I stop in the middle of the room, my gaze caught on what appear to be ropes holding back the curtains at the head of the bed. They’re attached to heavy silver rings on either side of the headboard. There’s another ring in the center.

  My heart begins to pound and my imagination, not normally overactive, kicks into overdrive. I’m not naïve. I know exactly what you could use those ropes for. My gaze drops to the foot of the bed.

  Yep, there are rings on the foot posts and more ropes holding back those curtains.

  The ropes look almost…delicate. Are there cuffs that attach to those ropes somewhere in the room?

  My sex clenches involuntarily and my next breath rasps in my throat.

  Does he tie women to this bed before he fucks them?

  Lust rises because I’ve seen the man who lives here.

  No. I can’t think about him because if I do…

  Another deep breath and I head toward the door. I need to get out of here. Now.

  I turn the knob and the door opens without a sound. I’d been expecting a creak at least. But no, this door swings on well-oiled hinges. Someone uses this room regularly.

  I swallow hard, images crowding my brain of what the man might do in this room. What I’d allow him to do to me in this room.

  Focus.

  Sliding into the hallway, I make my way to the stairs in front of me. There’s another doorway to the left but I’m not here to explore. I know exactly where I’m going.

  I stop at the top of the stairs and listen. Hearing nothing, I start my descent.

  The wide stairs don’t creak either. This place is a thief’s paradise.

  I don’t linger on the second floor, merely stop to make sure the coast is clear before continuing down a grand curved staircase, my fingers trailing along the cool wood of the banister. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the carving on the handrail. And I’ve been in some expensive homes before.

  Finally, I reach the first floor. The stairs drop me into a huge foyer, complete with marble tiled floors and arched front door. Totally castle chic.

  Who the hell lives like this? Certainly not me or anyone I know. This is a whole other level beyond what I’m used to.

  Some slight sound from the left catches my ear and I freeze. It repeats and I realize it’s the sound of an icemaker.

  Can it really be this easy?

  I’m beginning to wonder at my luck. I still haven’t seen the two dogs I know live here. I did see them earlier tonight. The man had let them out to run just before eleven.

  Maybe they sleep with their master. More likely, they’re somewhere on the first floor.

  But as I make my way to the back of the house and the library I know is there, I don’t hear them. No whining, no nails on the wood floors, no barking.

  Something nudges at the back of my brain, something telling me to get the hell out of here.

  But I can’t. Not without the file.

  I set off through the front hall, which might be as big as my entire apartment, and through the entrance to the room behind the stairs.

  The library is almost pitch black because the windows are covered. I know the general layout but I need light because I don’t want to accidentally bump into anything. I grab the tiny flashlight from my belt and flick it on.

  During the day, the curtains in this room are open and I’d been able to get some decent shots of the interior. I know where the desk and the safe are located.

  I should head there immediately but I take a second to swing the light around the room.

  It really is straight out of a fairytale.

  I may be a thief but I was once a little girl who wanted to be Belle. A little girl who loved to read and play with dolls and pretend that someday, she’d grow up and marry a prince.

  That was before I’d realized life doesn’t have fairytale endings. But it does have absent mothers and sick sisters and fathers who worked well outside the law.

  And now I’m starring in my own private version of a gender-swapped Aladdin. Progressive, right?

  Still, sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to be the princess instead of the thief. And to have a prince present me with a library like this.

  God, this place is so far removed from my reality that I’m still not sure it isn’t the set for a movie.

  The room is circular, the walls curved, and books cover every inch of those walls. Above, there’s a painted ceiling that looks like stained glass. I’m not sure if it’s a pattern or a picture and I don’t have the time to find out now.

  If this were a movie, I’d be about to get my ass caught right about now. So I drag my attention away from all the lovely books and that ceiling and focus instead on the massive wooden desk in front of the window across the room.

  The flashlight reveals intricate carving on the front but I’ve already spent way too much time here. I need to get what I came for and get the hell out.

  I hurry to the other side of the desk and check the drawers. They’re all open, no locks. I guess when you live alone and with this much security, you don’t worry about anyone stealing your shit.

  The only other person I’d seen in the house besides him is the housekeeper who works four days a week.

  Like I said, the man’s a hermit. In the two weeks I’ve watched the house, I’ve only ever seen him leave once. I have no idea where he went in his fancy Lexus that probably cost more than I’d make at a legitimate job in two years.

  I guess I’m lucky I don’t have to rely on that legitimate job to live. I’ve been building my reputation since I was sixteen. I hope to be able to retire before I’m forty. Or before I get caught. Like my dad.

  I don’t blame him for getting caught. It can happen to the best. But what he’s been threatened with makes me want to puke. And to stab someone.

  But I’ll clean up his mess because of Maylyn. She doesn’t deserve what she’s been threatened with. Jesus, she’s only twenty.

  A search of the desk reveals nothing so I’m left with the safe. I’ve already been here an hour. I need to be gone by five thirty a.m. when the guy wakes. I have about two hours. And it’s going to take me at least fifteen minutes to crack the safe.

  I turn toward the wall that divides the library from the rest of the house and head for the large still life hanging on it. Swinging it out reveals the door of the safe. State of the art…five years ago.

  I’ve cracked a hundred of these. Still, my palms get sweaty inside my gloves and my heart rate increases. Some of it’s performance anxiety. Most of it’s the thrill of the challenge.

  I retrieve the stethoscope from my belt and get to work. The dial spins beneath my fingers and my breathing immediately levels out.

  I’m in the zone.

  Ten minutes later, I turn the handle and the door opens. Now I hold my breath. If the file isn’t here…

  I shine the flashlight into the darkness of the safe and suck in a breath.

  Jewelry boxes. A pile of cash. And files.

  It seems too good to be true. I’ve learned that most things usually are.

  Doesn’t matter. I need the file.

  I pull them all out one at a time. Of course, it’s the very last file, placed against the far wall, almost out of reach.

  I leaf through the pages, just to make sure everything I need is there, then I stuff it into the back of my pants and pull my shirt over it, make sure it’s secure then close the safe and swing the painting back over it.

  It’s three twenty-five a.m. More than enough time to get out of here before he wakes.

  I take my time up the stairs. Don’t want to rush now. I’m almost home free.

  I reach the bedroom. Slide through the door and close it behind me.

  I open the window.

  “Did you find what you need?”

 
Chapter Two

  Aiden

  I had a feeling she’d come tonight.

  Anticipation runs through my body like an electric charge, making my heart pound and my breathing quicken.

  I tell myself it’s because I can finally finish what I started, but some part of my brain knows that’s not true.

  I ignore that and concentrate on not making a sound as I head from my hiding place on the third floor to the attic bedroom while she enters the library below.

  It’s been almost two weeks since she started watching the house. I knew she’d make her move soon. The countdown to save her father is getting closer to zero and Olivia will do everything she can to save him.

  What she doesn’t know is that she needs to save him from me.

  And she’s about to learn just how much it’s going to cost her.

  Watching her through the security system feed on my phone, I know she’s found the safe and is making her way back up the staircase.

  Damn, the girl moves like a gymnast. No, like a trained dancer. I’d gotten hard watching her climb the wall of the house like she’s fucking Spider-Man.

  Hell, if I’m honest, I’ll admit I get hard anytime I see Olivia. I tell myself it’s because she’s beautiful and any man who sees her wants her. But I know that’s bullshit.

  There’s something about this woman that makes me want to fuck her.

  And I’m going to. She’s going to give me what I want tonight and I’m going to take back what she needs to save her father. Then I’m going to watch the bastard twist in the wind before I shut him down.

  I can’t fucking wait. The smile on my face would probably terrify her. Tough shit.

  She’s a thief. A good one, by all accounts. But she’s still a thief. Tonight, she’ll learn what it’s like to be on the opposite side. Tonight, I’m going to steal what she needs so desperately.

  Then I’m going to send her back to her father and watch the trap close around him.

  Through the security feed, I see she’s reached the second floor. Where she pauses, looking at the closed doors. At my bedroom door, in particular.

  Of course she knows which one it is. She’s been watching the house for two weeks. I made no effort to hide the fact that that’s the room I sleep in. But why is she staring at it?