Eternally Seduced: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set

by Marian Tee

  She suppressed a sigh. Like a man indeed. It was because Warren was so typically like a man that he did not realize Rathe was far from immune to the ridicule and bullying that he had been subjected to since he was old enough to understand how everyone saw him – and his mother. Rathe might pretend to be unaffected, but he was. Alyssa was his mother, and she knew that underneath the arrogant exterior were wounds so raw Rathe would be broken if he acknowledged they existed at all.

  When Rathe still hadn’t spoken, she asked in a gentler tone, “What they’re saying is not true and has never been true.” She paused, hoping he would open up, but he did not. “I didn’t marry him for his money and he did not marry me because he wanted a trophy wife. One day, you’ll understand that age is never a factor when it comes to love. Your father may have been twenty-two years older than me when we married---”

  “It’s never been about you!”

  The words took her by surprise. He had never expressed his thoughts about her marriage to Warren until now.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I never blamed you, Mother. He swept you off your feet. Even I know Father can be attractive, being rich and a duke’s heir but…” His fists clenched. “Why couldn’t he have waited? You were a teenager, barely older than I am now,” Rathe pointed out bitterly. “Why couldn’t he have just waited?”

  “Please don’t blame your father, Rathe. He didn’t take advantage of me and I didn’t take advantage of him. He loves me.”

  He did not speak.

  He did not have to.

  His eyes said it all.

  Alyssa’s heart shattered for her beloved son. “One day, sweetheart, you’ll understand. The heart…it doesn’t always listen to rhyme or reason. It just…loves and when it’s found its mate, it will love forever and there’s no stopping it.”

  Rathe said tonelessly, “I don’t believe in love. I believe in what’s right and wrong and what Father did…”

  She said helplessly, “He loves me.”

  The words might have sounded sweetly poignant to others but in Rathe’s mind, they were despicable and revolting. They made his skin crawl because he couldn’t help thinking of the love between his father and mother as the love between a predator and its prey---

  You’re the pedophile’s son---

  Son of the marquis’ whore—

  Gold-digging blood runs through your veins---

  “Rathe?”

  The tremor in his mother’s voice made him look at Alyssa, and the hurt on her face made Rathe strive for greater control. “I’m fine, Mother,” he lied as he pulled her close for a comforting hug. After a moment’s hesitation, she leaned her head against his chest and patted his hand.

  Not a second passed when something made Rathe look up, and his gaze met his father’s, who was quietly standing at the doorway. They might have their differences, but if there was one thing they did agree on, it was their love for Alyssa.

  No matter what, Rathe vowed to himself, he would do everything possible to make Alyssa a woman no one would ever dare disrespect.

  ****

  4 years ago

  Mary Ashton bit her lip as the cane struck her back for the third time. The force of the blow almost pushed her off her knees, but she managed to keep her balance. If she fell to the floor, she knew in her stepfather’s twisted mind it would be proof that she was “weak”. And if he thought that, then he would think she was weak because her mother was weak---

  “Do you repent now?” Bartholomew roared from behind.

  “Yes, Father,” she whispered.

  The blows came furiously after that but she managed to stay still, not one pain-filled whimper slipping past her lips.

  With immense will, Mary managed to focus her mind on the dancing flickers of the dozens of candles surrounding them. When they had moved to their new home a year ago, her stepfather had immediately converted the attic to the Room of Penitence – a private place where sinners could reflect on their evilness. The caning was Bartholomew’s way of beating the Devil out of sinners, something he considered an act of supreme kindness on his part.

  When it was over, Bartholomew went around to stand in front of her. His tone, once violent and hateful, was now that of a benevolent priest. “Dear Mary,” he said with a sad sigh as he cupped her chin and made her look up.

  “Do you understand now?”

  She nodded.

  “Men are never to be trusted.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “I am doing this to protect you.”

  “I understand, Father.”

  “You are not my real daughter, but I have accepted you wholeheartedly because it is the godly thing to do. And because I see you as one of my own, I shall do my best to do right by you. If you disobey me again, I can only blame your mother for it. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “You must prove to me that you will not sin like your mother has sinned against God.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “You must remain chaste and pure.”

  “Yes, Father.”

  They gazed at each other then. In his eyes, she saw what Bartholomew was doing his best to hide but failed to. He lusted after his stepdaughter, and they both knew it. In her eyes, he saw what she wanted him to see – a young girl who feared God but feared Bartholomew’s wrath more.

  But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. She mustn’t.

  He could beat her as many times as he wanted, but one day she would be free of him…no matter what.

  Chapter One

  Present Time

  “Oh my God, Mary – you wouldn’t believe how gorgeous the guy is downstairs!” Those were the first words that Camille Wilson said as she came bursting into her friend’s room without knocking. A tall and striking brunette, Camille had only transferred to the university a week ago. All but one girl had correctly sized her as an unabashed flirt and avoided Camille accordingly. Mary was the exception, being more scientist than woman.

  Mary Ashton, tiny, dark-haired, and enviably curvy, was standing on a stool, bent over a large fish tank. She gasped at the unexpected entry, almost dropping her iPhone into the tank. “Cam! You startled me!” She stared with visible regret at her pet piranha, which was Saffi March-Aehrenthal’s birthday gift to her.

  Although she had been fascinated with fish for years, Mary had never owned one as a pet. She had been too afraid of what her crazy stepfather would do to it if she wasn’t around. But now that she had one, it was love at first sight between Mary and her piranha, and she finally understood Saffi’s fascination with having fish as pets.

  Seeing the lettuce-wrapped lobster toy in the tank, Camille knew right away what it meant, having spent most of her free time with Mary. For a really shy girl, Mary had surprisingly bloodthirsty interests when it came to her studies.

  “You’re at it again?” Camille shook her head in exasperation. “Piranhas can’t be turned into vegetarians.” She tapped the tank, and the piranha’s head swerved in her direction in a snap, jaw open to reveal sharp and jagged teeth. “See?”

  Mary ignored her friend’s example. “It’s just a matter of finding the right training.” She reeled out her bait and, climbing down from the stool, she returned the vegetable-wrapped lobster in her compact-sized refrigerator.

  “Maybe if you try swimming with them---” Seeing an imaginary bulb light up in the younger girl’s eyes, Camille retracted her words quickly. “I’m just joking!” Remembering her reason for coming to Mary’s room in the first place, she said hurriedly, “But wait – your piranha’s not what I’m here for.” She sighed dreamily. “I just saw the most beautiful man on earth downstairs, Mary.”

  “Uh huh…” Mary’s mind was still dwelling on the opportunity she had just lost. Maybe, Camille was right---

  “Mary!”

  She nearly dropped her iPhone again, jumping at Camille’s impatient tone. “Sorry, what?”

  “…please say you’ll do it?”

&n
bsp; “Umm, okay?” Mary had no idea what she was agreeing to, but she knew from experience that it was just better to say yes to whatever it was Camille wanted.

  “Yippee! You’re the bestest friend ever! Now, let’s go.”

  In an instant, Mary found herself being dragged out of her room.

  “I haven’t locked---”

  Camille didn’t stop racing down the stairs as she answered over her shoulder, “Get real, Mary. No one’s going to steal your killer pet. They’d lose a finger if they did.”

  Every hallway they passed as they went down was strangely empty, making Mary wonder if today could be one of those days again.

  “Where’s everyone?” Mary asked rather breathlessly as she tried to keep up with Camille’s longer-legged strides.

  “Where they’re supposed to be!”

  Yup. Totally one of those days, Mary thought resignedly. She had already made a mental note to herself to make an extra effort to be normal, popular, and cool. And by that she meant prioritizing what was supposed to be important to eighteen-year-old girls like her.

  Her lack of physical coordination had her missing the last step, almost causing Mary to tumble straight down. Luckily, she managed to hold on to the staircase’s post at the last step.

  Camille was already hurrying towards the crowd of students gathered around the dorm’s main entry doors. “Hurry!”

  “I’m trying!” As she went after her friend, a sense of déjà vu overcame Mary. Last time she found a crowd like this, it was Staffan wooing Saffi back to his side. But hopefully, nothing like that---

  “Mary! Come on!”

  She hurried towards Camille, who quickly grabbed her hand so Mary could follow her into the crowd. Mary cringed when girls cursed them left and right as Camille forced her way towards the entry, where the supposedly most beautiful man on earth was waiting.

  “Sorry, sorry,” she mumbled, hoping World War III wouldn’t break out between Camille and the rest of the female population.

  Camille seemed utterly oblivious to what was happening, too busy telling Mary about how beautiful the stranger was. “He’s famous, too – I’m sure of it. I mean, I can’t remember where I saw him, but I’m sure he’s famous. I think he’s one of those smart types. Like the Libel Prize winner you pointed out before?”

  “Nobel Prize,” Mary corrected her friend and trying not to smile as she did because she knew Camille wasn’t playing stupid. She just wasn’t interested in anything that did not constitute as ‘fun’ in her vocabulary.

  Camille let out a triumphant sound. “There! Do you see him?”

  Mary craned her neck obediently, doing her best to see the man so they could just be done with this. “I can’t see him,” she was forced to say after a few pointless moments of trying to see past the dozen or so of mostly taller girls before her.

  “I bet you’ll recognize his face when you see him.” Grabbing Mary’s hand again, Camille began pushing girls out of their way.

  Seeing the menacing scowls that were aimed their way, Mary shook her head and tried to pull Camille back instead. “No, let’s stay here. I think I can see him if I jump.” She started jumping, trying to go a little higher with each jump. “I see…” Deep breath, jump. “Dark brown hair!”

  Camille’s eyes brightened with excitement. “Yes, yes, that’s him!”

  Mary sighed in relief. Thank God she had made the right guess.

  “What else?” Camille asked.

  Deep breath, jump. “Umm…tanned?”

  Camille blinked.

  Mary said hastily, “But only because I’m comparing him to my skin tone?”

  “Ah. Yes, I suppose next to you he’s going to look tanned. But really, he’s kinda fair – you know? Like a marble statue.” Camille smiled expectantly. “How about his face? Do you recognize him? If you do, I need you to talk to him and put a good word in for me.”

  Mary nearly lost her footing at the last words. “What?”

  Camille’s brow went up. “What? You promised you’d help me a while ago!”

  So that’s what she agreed to, Mary realized with a grimace.

  “---there’s no other person I know who’s better than you when it comes to impressing good-looking nerds.”

  Mary wanted to gag Camille. “Sssh! You make it sound like a skill I practice.” She explained earnestly, “I just don’t see them as men.” She was painfully awkward with the opposite sex but not when it was clear they saw her more as a colleague than a girl.

  Camille snorted. “Darling, if you offered classes I’d be the first one to sign up. The moment you open your mouth, all the smart men fall in love with you.” She looked towards the crowd again. “Do you see him now? You know, a while ago I saw Krizia trying to chat him up and he was completely unaffected. That’s why I think he’s one of those hot nerd types.”

  Mary started jumping again.

  Okay, he was indeed dark-haired and quite tall.

  Deep breath, jump.

  He was also…dressed in a pinstriped suit, making Mary think that Camille was probably right. This was no college student and he seemed too well dressed for a professor. So what did that leave him? A guest lecturer? A rich patron?

  Deep breath, juuuuump ---

  The girl in front of her suddenly stepped back, the girl on her right moved towards the left, and Mary found herself without a place to land. The next second, she came crashing down, the topmost body on a human pyramid and twisting her ankle as she did.

  Mary gasped in pain.

  There was chaos all around, and she gasped again when the girls underneath her callously pushed her off them, causing her to roll down to the ground. She landed on her injured ankle, and Mary cried out once more.

  “Let me pass,” she dimly heard a familiar voice said in a commanding tone.

  She looked up. A shadow fell over Mary, and her stunned gaze clashed with a pair of startlingly blue ones. Mary’s jaw dropped and she whispered unthinkingly, “SERIAL KISSER.”

  Chapter Two

  Rathe Wellesley had been mistaken frequently as a movie star, a supermodel, and a prince. But never had he been mistaken as a---

  “…I heard she called him a serial killer,” one of the movers whispered as he looked at Rathe.

  That.

  Lip curling at the way everyone was now thinking of him as a serial killer, Rathe walked out of Saffi’s bedroom. If he heard someone describe him once more as a fucking murderer then he would really be one, and his first victim would be the girl next door.

  “Hey, boss? What do you want me to do about this?”

  Rathe turned to face Carter, the head of the moving team he had hired to transfer all of Saffi’s stuff to Staffan’s place. Carter was looking at him with a confused expression as he lifted up a full-colored chart of a fish’s reproductive cycle.

  Doing his best not to wince, Rathe said in a remarkably level voice, “Err, yes. It was the owner’s explicit instructions that everything in this room be carted off.”

  Carter scratched his bald head. “You sure, boss?”

  The things he did for losing a bet, Rathe thought as he inclined his head in response. He was the 5th Duke of Flanders, with Wellington no less as an ancestor, and yet today he was being forced to treasure posters that were better described as rubbish.

  Rathe nodded. “Yes, everything must be properly packed and moved.” He stayed for a few more moments, merely observing to ensure that the move would be completed within a day. Satisfied with what he had seen, Rathe left Saffi’s room and came to stand in front of the room he had once entered a week ago.

  There were so many reasons not to do this.

  He was a duke. She was nobody. He was thirty-four years old. She was eighteen. He would never love her. She might already be infatuated with him.

  But when he closed his eyes now, all Rathe could imagine was Mary Ashton’s barely covered body and the way she felt in his arms.

  ****

  “Come in.” Mary failed to keep h
er voice from squeaking out as she heard the knock on the door. She was hoping it would not be him, but when the door opened and closed quietly at her visitor’s entry, Mary knew it was a doomed wish. Guys in college would have slammed that door open and close.

  “Are you all right now?” The voice was super polite, polished, and…British.

  Yes, she thought glumly. That was definitely him, Mr. Serial Kisser. Her cheeks burned at the memory she was still finding impossible to forget. Even to this day, she couldn’t figure out how it was that she had let him kiss her like that. If not for her phone suddenly ringing, she probably would have…

  No, don’t think that, Mary scolded herself mentally. The important thing here was that she had escaped Mr. Serial Kisser. She had run away from her room and only went back late at night, a few minutes past the dorm’s no-guests-allowed curfew.

  Rathe was patient as he waited for the girl to answer, content with using the time to simply look his fill of her. It was unfortunate she was not dressed so sexily today, Rathe thought with a quiet sigh. Instead, she was covered from head to toe in a white buttoned-up blouse and jeans, with one leg propped up on the pillow to accommodate her injured ankle.

  She was wringing her hands on her lap, something Rathe found strangely…fascinating.

  The seconds ticked by.

  Mary stole a look at her visitor, making sure her glance did not stray above his neck. He was arranging his cuff links like he had all the time in the world to do so.

  He was not saying anything, but for every second that he kept quiet, she felt guiltier and guiltier. Unable to bear it any longer, she blurted out, “I didn’t really mean for anyone to think you were a serial killer.”

  Her mumbled voice had a tone of torture to it. Rathe was not a sadistic man, but for some reason he enjoyed a sense of satisfaction at the way she was almost writhing on the bed with her lovely cheeks on fire. The way she looked now, it was very much easy to imagine her face flushed and her body writhing for a very different reason.

  She still had her head bowed down, with dark tendrils of hair escaping her rather messy twist. Once in a while, she would lift her hand to push her glasses back up on her nose.