RAGE (The Rage Series Book 2)

by MJ Riley

  They had never gotten to take the vacation that she wanted, and this almost made up for it. Soft music from the beach drifted in through the window along with the scent of the sea and the rhythm of the waves.

  David lay his golden goddess against the white silken sheets, taking a moment to admire her beauty. Now, he didn't want to think about the past or the future, only the present. Presently, he wanted the woman he'd been denied for so long. Reaching down, he slid the straps of her nightgown from her shoulders, tugging the diaphanous material down her torso until it pooled at her waist, revealing the glorious globes of her breasts.

  Eagerly, David bent to take a nipple into his mouth. When Charlotte's breath immediately hitched in pleasure, the sound went straight to his erection, which was now pulsing painfully within his shorts. Leisurely, he laved the darkened tips of her beasts with moisture until she was arching and cooing against him, her flesh hard against his tongue. She was like a fine wine that he could never get enough of. He would forever be drugged.

  Reaching for him, Charlotte's hands tangled in his hair to pull him towards her once more. As they shared another heated kiss, she worked his shirt up and over his chest, ultimately tossing it somewhere in the room to be found at a later date. Then, she sat up, pressing her lithe body against him, causing him to moan at the feel of her bare breasts against his chest. Within moments, she had pressed him backward against the mattress, straddling him as she worked at the fastenings of his pants impatiently.

  After a few seconds, however, she finally freed the button and carefully pulled down the zipper. David thought that she might free him of his pants and underwear altogether; but, instead, she merely withdrew his pulsing arousal from the front of his underwear and began to stroke madly, making his thighs tense. He bucked into her grip helplessly, bouncing her with the bower of his lower body.

  Atop him, the blonde woman licked her lips in anticipation, rising slightly to wiggle out of panties that were the same color as her nightgown. Then, he felt the slick, hot wetness of her, as she slid against his cock.

  A strangled noise escaped him as she teased him, rubbing the cleft of herself back and forth over the tip of him. When he finally took hold of her hips, forcing her to take him inside, they made sounds of pleasure. David's rumbled deeply through his chest, as he felt her squeezing him exquisitely.

  This was what he had craved.

  When the whole world had been caving in on him, he'd only wanted to be with someone and to have it feel right.

  As she rode him, Charlotte's head fell back, her hair tumbling down her back in a grand profusion of curls that had him catching his breath. The way her body undulated, those intoxicating blue eyes stared down at him, and her mouth parted as her inner muscles clamped down on him…

  He wouldn't last long.

  Indeed, the moment she placed his hands on her hips and increased their pace, he began to come apart. Grasping her firmly, he began to move her almost fervently over him until the pressure had his eyes rolling in their sockets. By the frequency of her gasps and moans, Charlotte was close as well. When he gave one final, powerful thrust upward, she cried his name and stiffened atop him, as her muscles milked him exquisitely.

  He could no more resist the pull of his own climax than he could stop breathing. With a hoarse cry, he tumbled over the edge, clutching her for dear life, as his body jerked and pulsed.

  Finally, both of them were still. Without a word, Charlotte slid from atop him, finding the edge of the blanket so they could both climb underneath. Then, she nestled close to him, her expression sated and serene.

  Tomorrow would bring complications; but, for now, David wasn't worried about tomorrow. It would come soon enough. Right now, Charlotte was in his arms. He hadn't a care in the world, and everything was right.

  Chapter Eleven

  Charlotte was awoken the next morning by an insistent knocking on the door. As she gradually came back to consciousness, the first face that greeted her was David's, still lax from sleep and sporting half a face full of stubble. As the knock came again, her stomach suddenly roiled.

  Bolting upright, she raced for the bathroom, reaching the toilet just in time.

  Christ, she must have had more to drink last night than she'd thought. As she wiped her mouth with a trembling hand, she heard David rise to answer the door. The following exchange made her groan, laying her head back against the toilet seat.

  “Where is she? I know she's in here.”

  “Leah, please.” David still sounded half asleep. “Can't we discuss this later?”

  “David, what are you doing? Have you forgotten that when you get back to the city, Emerson will tear you apart if he catches you with his daughter?”

  “She's not his daughter.”

  “As far as the law is concerned she is. I'm assuming Mathers wouldn't have neglected something as simple as legal adoption. How are we supposed to be forming a relevant case when you can't keep away from her?”

  “Leah, it's not that simple.”

  “Yes. It is. You just don't sleep with her, for Christ’s sake. Look, I'm not trying to speak ill of Charlotte's character. We know that she was as much as a victim as you were; but, the man is going to be looking for any excuse, David. He could have you charged for rape or molestation if he put the right spin on the story!”

  “Charlotte would never corroborate that,” replied David, firmly and with confidence—making Charlotte smile from within the bathroom. “She'd tell the truth.”

  “David, if Emerson gets his claws in her. If he threatens her or, God forbid, hurts her, who knows what she would say?”

  At that moment, Charlotte made her way to her feet to reenter the bedroom, her expression severe. “I would never ever let them pin something like that on David.”

  Leah was dressed for their departure in dark slacks and a light sweater. Her hair was pulled back from her livid face into an up-do. “Charlotte, how can you still be so blind? The man has lied and cheated his way to the top of the world. I'm willing to doubt that there is absolutely nothing he wouldn't do to get his way.”

  “There's no way I would testify against David. He'd have to drag my bodily to the stand.”

  “That could be arranged.”

  All of them turned, dread pooling in Charlotte's stomach at the sound of the chilling, muffled voice.

  Standing in the doorway was none other than her father. This time he was flanked by what appeared to be members of some secret organization. They wore flashy suits and ties to cover their bulk, but they looked mean. The way they immediately scrutinized her nakedness had her grabbing a nearby cushion to cover her vulnerable bits.

  “Charlotte, Charlotte, Charlotte.” The man's voice had taken a soft, almost pitying tone, that she'd long learned signified danger. “You wound me. This man tries to sabotage the company we built together, lies to you, and breaks your heart and still you crawl through the mud with him.”

  “You're the liar!” Charlotte spat, fury washing over her in hot, sickening waves. “You stole everything. The patents, the prototypes. You even stole another man's wife. Have you ever told the truth about anything in your life?”

  “I'm sure I have no idea what you're talking about,” he replied, his gaze cool.

  “We have papers.” Leah threatened. “Evidence that most of Mathers Incorporated patents were stolen from Lester M. Marscomb over a number of years. We won't hesitate to go to the press.”

  “With papers stolen from my private server? I don't think those will hold up very well in court,” he responded, chuckling darkly and shaking his head. “Any information taken without my consent will never see the light of day, this I promise you.”

  “And what about your illness?” asked David, speaking for the first time since Emerson entered the room. He seemed surprisingly calm, considering the last time he'd seen the man he had injured him. “I'm sure that's already seeing the light of day. What treatments are you taking, Mathers? Retrovirals? Preventatives? At your age,
HIV is a nasty business.”

  For a moment, the man's face contorted into an expression so enraged that Charlotte took a step back. Though she knew her father was capable of great cruelty, she had never imagined him committing actual physical violence. However, when he looked at David, she didn't doubt it for a moment; but, as quickly as the look had surfaced, it was gone, replaced once more by Emerson's cool, infuriating smugness. “You know, slander is a very real crime, boy. One I'd be happy to add to the already long list of charges pending against you.”

  “And what about fraud?” Leah's eyes were now narrowed in hate. “Say, claiming the parentage of a child that's not actually yours? Leading two sexually involved people to believe that they're blood related? Or, how about we try this one on for size—never revealing to someone that they're not your own flesh and blood while still forcing them to take on duties relegated to them as if they were? I'd say that's a hell of a case against you, Mathers.”

  For a moment, they stared one another down, the tiny lawyer and the massive business mogul. Their gazes were so intense that Charlotte swore a fire was going to spring out of thin air. Ultimately, her father merely turned from her and said, “Mr. Thompson, Mr. Riker? Please retrieve my daughter.”

  Instantly, the men moved past him and headed for Charlotte. She tripped over her own legs, backing up to escape them. From beside her, David bellowed in sudden rage, and Leah gasped in shock.

  Before Charlotte could even hit the floor, her arm was taken in a strong grip. She squeezed by one of the agents pursuing her, and the other was currently grappling with David; but, one was more than enough. The man who held her was massive, his grip so strong it was actually cutting off the circulation in her arm.

  “Let go,” she demanded, struggling despite her nakedness. “You're hurting me.”

  “Don't touch her.” David's tone was laced with malice the likes of which she'd never heard before. “I'll kill you. I will murder you.”

  “Here's how this little scenario is going to play out, children.” Everyone froze as Emerson's voice permeated the air again, drawing all attention to him. “Charlotte, you will come with me. You will not struggle. If you don't comply, I will have your pathetic little boyfriend thrown in the roughest Bahamian jail I can find on charges so outrageous that no one in their right mind would take his case. He will rot there, at the very least, for a year.”

  “Charlotte, don't you go with him.” David was still struggling against the agent he had clashed with. “I don't care what he says. You stay right there.”

  “You, keep exerting Mr. Riker, and I will mark Charlotte black and blue in front of you until you decide otherwise.”

  Almost immediately, David stilled, allowing Mr. Riker to land a blow on his cheek, snapping his head back and bloodying his mouth.

  “David!” Charlotte's cry echoed throughout the room.

  “You.” Emerson pointed a meaty finger at Leah, who was trembling in rage. “I don't know who the hell you are, but I swear I will find out. And when I do, you will rue the day you ever sought to go against me. Thompson, bring her.”

  With that, the man holding Charlotte began to drag her toward the door, never mind the fact that she was still without a stitch of clothing, and there was nothing she could do.

  “Charlotte...” David's voice was utterly broken as he called after her, blood pouring down his jaw.

  Time seemed to slow down as Thompson edged her closer and closer to her father's side. When she finally reached him, she looked over every frayed vein, his balding head, his wired jaw, and his flagrantly expensive suit, and she hated him. Emerson merely gave her a once over before he raised an arm to backhand her with no small amount of strength.

  As her head canted to the side, she saw stars and searing pain spreading down her jaw and neck. She heard David's bellow of fury, but she was dragged, nonetheless, from the room, still dazed. As they pulled her through the lobby, many of the patrons staring, she tried to protest. She was a grown woman. Her father couldn't do this to her.

  “I'm...not wearing any clothes.” Blood bubbled from her lips from where she'd bitten her tongue, “I need clothes.”

  “You want to act like a whore, you don't need them.” Though she knew he wasn't truly her father, the words still cut her to the quick, bringing tears to her eyes.

  Chapter Twelve

  The trip home was humiliating. She was forced to ride through the busy city of Nassau, naked, beside her father in the back of the limo before she was paraded inside, much to the shock of a multitude of travelers. It was only when airport security insisted she be clothed that she was finally provided with a loose shirt, some leggings, and some sandals, which she quickly donned.

  Within the hour, they were aboard her father's private jet. No sooner had she been thrown into a seat than Thompson handcuffed her in place with a salacious grin. Riker joined them soon after, and the plane door was closed as they prepared for takeoff.

  With some difficulty, Emerson Mathers seated himself in the plush seat before her and then fixed his beady gaze on her. For a moment, his eyes roamed over her. Then, he snorted in disgust and withdrew a handkerchief from his jacket pocket, extending it to her. “Clean yourself up.”

  Charlotte could only gaze at him in disbelief.

  When she didn't take the cloth after a full minute, he merely scowled, dropping it on the table between them. “Suit yourself.”

  “You are sick, you know that.” The words escaped her with the full force of her emotions. Had she been free, she didn't doubt that she would have lunged for the man who had raised her—or hired people to raise her.

  “I am not sick, Charlotte. I am efficient, and I believe you are the least efficient thing I have ever invested in.”

  “Invested?” She shook her head, utterly confused. “What are you talking about?”

  “Everything I have ever done, I have done for a purpose. Efficiency, profit, fame. When I asked a woman thirty years ago to find me a blonde-haired, blue-eyed charity case I could mold into my successor, she did well enough. If I had known you would grow to be this dim witted, however, I wouldn't have bothered.”

  “But...my mother. Why did you have to lie about my mother? You said she died!”

  “There was a woman who helped me to raise you in the beginning, in your infancy. We…got on well, you might say. You'd even taken to calling her mother.” Emerson's salacious expression hardened. “Sadly, she did pass away from complications of the AIDS virus.”

  Charlotte could only gaze at the man in horror.

  He was a murderer. He had driven David's father to suicide, infected God knows how many women with HIV, and one woman had died from it.

  How had she ever desired this man's love?

  “Oh, don't look so shocked. There have been far worse things done in the name of financial gain in the world. And look at you. You grew up with everything you ever wanted. Nannies, tennis lessons, cars—”

  “And look where I am now.” Charlotte's voice had lowered to a growl, as she glared at him.

  Emerson only sighed, shaking his head. “Well, this is quite unfortunate. I'd hoped that as Causewell's secretary you would keep your head down and finally stop trying to run my company into the ground.”

  “You're siphoning millions in company funds directly into your own accounts. If anyone is going to run the company into the ground, it will be you!”

  “It's my money!” Emerson's bark was so harsh that Charlotte jumped. “I made it. I built this company from the ground up.”

  “And you buried Lester Marscomb to do it.” Charlotte’s voice was a low whisper of disgust. “How can you live with yourself?”

  Instead of answering her question, the odious man simply changed the subject as the plane began taxing down the runway. “I'll hardly have to worry about living alone anymore, will I? You'll be moving into the manor in Long Island with me. You'll be locked in your room every day until David Marscomb's trial is long past and he's been put away for the fo
reseeable future. Try me girl, just try me.” He raised a finger in warning and said, “One wrong move, one attempt to escape, and I'll have the boy's mother thrown into the nastiest psych ward I can find.”

  “You monster.”

  “You bring it out in me, my dear. You and your boyfriend have caused me quite a lot of trouble lately.”

  With that, Charlotte fell silent. She was utterly numb.

  She said nothing on the flight back to New York and nothing as she was driven from the airport to Long Island and nothing as she was locked into a room obviously reserved for one of his father's whores. There were bars on every window, and the one in the bathroom was physically nailed shut.

  It wasn't until at least twenty-four hours had passed that Charlotte finally overcame her shock over what had happened. When she did, she turned over on the bed and screamed all of her frustration, her desperation, and her helplessness into the pillow. He had her. Emerson had her, and this time, there was no way she could win.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Time passed in a blur. She was brought three meals a day, but she hardly cared what she ate. It all tasted like sand. Constantly, she wondered how Emerson could get away with locking her up. Hadn't someone noticed? The media was usually ardent in their pursuing of a juicy story. How hadn't they caught wind of her own father keeping her prisoner?

  More often, she wondered what had happened to David. No doubt he and Leah had returned to the city and were preparing for the trial. The frightening reality of his situation was beginning to bear down on her.

  To her recollection, Mathers Incorporated had never lost a trial. Once, she'd thought it was because luck was on their side and they had the moral high ground. Now, she realized that it probably had more to do with her father having all the prominent New York judges in his pocket.

  It didn't matter how good of a lawyer Leah was—and Charlotte didn't doubt her skill—the trial would be rigged, and David would be put away for a large portion of his adult life. After all he'd fought for and all he'd done, he was going to jail anyhow. The thought made her bouts of nausea come more and more frequently, until she was hung over the toilet almost constantly.