Cruel Captivation: A Dark Romance (Underground Kings Book 5)

by Kelli Callahan

  “Well, we aren’t done. Every dress needs a wicked high heel, right?” The stylist smirks, her red-stained lips confident. “And I know just the shoe that will go with this dress. A simple black pair of Louis Vuitton? They have a red bottom that will give you another pop of color when you walk.”

  “Will anyone see? The train will block the shoes. I’d hate to hide them.”

  “It’s why the train can do this…” Ariel bends down and folds the train until it looks like a seashell, then clips it, giving me a fun tail.

  I love it.

  “You ladies are good.”

  “Oh, you haven’t seen nothing yet. Just wait until we do your hair and makeup. No one will see the old you. They will see the new and improved you. The one taking her life back in her own hands.” The stylist squeezes her hand into a tight fist as if she is squishing something. She’s intense, but she sure as hell is good at her job because I am lifting my chin higher, my back is straighter, and I’m ready to take on the world.

  The only person I wish was here to see my progress is Asher.

  One day, I’ll be the woman he deserves, but not until I tell my truth to the cops. When Asher is free, that’s when I’ll be free.

  Twelve

  Heaven

  Being in my hometown makes me sick. I hate it here. There is nothing special about it. It holds nothing but bad memories. I curl my fingers into my knee while is stare at the suit hanging on the back of the hotel door. The team has separate rooms, but they are all interconnected. Everyone is getting ready for the Ball and I’m sitting here on the oversized bed wondering how my life brought me back to exactly where I started.

  I lean back on the bed and throw my arm over my eyes, debating if the guys can do this without me. Sure, I’m the only one that is experienced in this life, but it isn’t hard to figure out. Smile, drink, gossip about Jeff who got the cheap brand of gold clubs and his swing leans a little to the right. Talk about the wives. They don’t even have to say names because the other men will laugh and throw names out left and right. All anyone has to do is smile and nod.

  But.

  There is always a but.

  They want to create a little bit of drama and chaos which is why they want me going into the party alone for the first hour, then they will come through, flashing their fake invitation and the guards won’t know because people who look rich must be the real deal, which is why we have Armani tuxedoes, but I’m going in without the bow tie.

  I hate bowties.

  Luckily, the Governor’s ball isn’t going to be held in the same place as it was all those years ago. I don’t think I could have gone through with this job knowing I was walking into the same building where I found Grace beaten to death.

  A knock at the door is loud, demanding, and it’s more of a pound than a tap, which tells me it is Owen. I roll out of bed and keep my towel tucked around my hips before walking over and unlocking the door. I swing it open. “Come on in, Owen. Make yourself at home. Go to the mini bar. I am.” My feet patter along the tile floor before the ground switches over to carpet.

  “Why aren’t you ready?” Owen asks, closing the door behind him until it locks with an automatic click. “You have to be down at the ball in an hour.”

  I pour myself a whiskey neat into a scotch glass provided by the Ritz Carlton and take a swig. “It doesn’t take me an hour to get dressed Owen. I’ll be ready. I only have to put on my suit.”

  “Well, don’t we sound cheery,” Owen says, sticking his hands in his pockets.

  I deadpan him, annoyed, and slightly pissed off that everyone thinks I should be in a grand mood right now. “Yeah, Owen? How would you feel if you were about to walk into all the people you used to know, thinking you killed someone in their circle, then stand in front of you father that you haven’t seen in seven years, then on top of that, because that’s fun, right?” I down the rest of my whiskey and slam it on the bar top. “I have to see the woman, the only woman, I’ve ever cared about and let her go, again. Don’t stand there and patronize me, Owen. You have no idea the dread I’m feeling. You have no idea how bad I am ready to sell out my share of the Underground Kings, and fucking walk away.”

  “You don’t mean that,” he gasps, straightening from his relaxed position.

  No, I don’t, but I’m that angry. “I don’t mean it,” I sigh, lowering my head between my shoulders as I grip the countertop with my hands. “But I’m about to walk into the wolf’s den and I’m going to get torn apart and you guys think it’s going to be cake. You act like I’m not allowed to be bothered.”

  “You’ve never been bothered by anything else before.”

  I sling my arm over the bar top and the glass and alcohol bottles fly off, then slam against the window. I’m fucking fuming now. I charge at him in my towel, not caring that I’m half freaking nude. “I’m allowed to be bothered about this! I’m allowed to be upset about this. Jesus Christ, do you hear yourself? You act like I’m not allowed to feel anything except happiness when I’m about to walk into a time machine. Who knows what will happen, I might not make it out of here alive when her parents see me. Hell, when my father sees me. Ever think of that? No, of course not. Just get out, Owen. Get out,” I say, exhausted. “I’ll fucking deal with it.”

  “Heaven—”

  “—Get. Out,” I bite out, about to lose my mind on him again.

  He is crestfallen and it sucks that I’ve hurt my best friend, but I’m getting really tired of everyone thinking I’ll just let this roll off my shoulders. I’m human. I’m allowed to be angry. He nods and pushes off the wall with his foot and heads out the door. I drop to my elbows and scrub my hands over my face.

  “Damn it,” I curse, wishing I hadn’t wasted all of that alcohol. Shit, I even cracked the window.

  Good.

  It can go on Jaxon’s credit card. If he wants me to do this, it sure as hell isn’t going to come for free.

  I whip off the towel and toss it on the bed, then unzip the garment bag to show the expensive suit. I take the sleeve between my fingers and feel the expensive threads, whistling under my breath at how soft it is. Damn, this is nice.

  I still don’t want to wear it.

  But I will, for the team, for everyone that needs me to do this, I’ll put on the expensive, beautiful, suit and look fucking good in it.

  Taking the suit jacket off the hook, I lay it flat on the bed, then unfold the pants from the rod, and slip them on. I forgo the underwear. If there is one thing I can be cocky about, it’s how my dick looks in suit pants without briefs. Careful to tuck myself in, I zip up, and circle the belt through the pant loops, then buckle it.

  After the under shirt and dress shirt, I throw on the suit jacket, and grab the box of gold cuff links from my pocket. My initials are carved into them. I’ve had them since I was fifteen. They were a gift from my dad. He said I was ‘officially’ a man.

  When I’m done getting dressed, I bend over to lace my shoes together, then stand. I walk to the mirror and check myself out, run my fingers through my hair, and tug on the suit blazer. I look good, but I’d look better with Heather on my arm.

  Damn, I’m nervous. I feel like I’m about to take down the entire political freaking party, but I can do that without a stitch. It’s Heather I’m nervous about. I grab the earpiece, grumble my dissatisfaction to myself, and turn it on before placing it in.

  “Testing,” Sebastian says, making sure the earpiece works.

  “Yep. Hear you loud and clear.”

  “Wow, you weren’t kidding. He is pissed off.”

  “I can hear you, Sebastian. The more you guys talk about me like I can’t, the angrier I’ll become.”

  “Zeke is already down there, Heaven. He is talking to a cartel leader who also is the mayor of San Diego.”

  “How do they get away with shit like this?”

  “Hell if I know,” Jaxon says. “Also, there is a surprise in your right suit pocket.”

  “I swear if it is condoms
guys, I’m so not in the mood,” I groan, digging into the right pocket like they said and my brows furrow when I grab something thin, yet hard. I pull it out and notice it is a mask. “It’s a masquerade ball?” I ask, noting the plain silver that is going to block half of my face.

  “It is and on your reservation, you aren’t Asher Haven. You’re Ryan Sinclair.”

  “Oh, Sinclair. Fancy.” I place the mask on my face, tugging the string behind my head, and close the door behind me. I could really use a muffin right about now. “You guys could have told me my identity would be safe. Now I feel bad for freaking out at Owen.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “I didn’t apologize. You still deserved what I said and wasn’t directed at only you, but to everyone. You lot need to remember that I’m just like you.”

  “We’re sorry,” Jaxon says.

  I nod, tugging on my jacket, then clear my throat. “Good. Then we can get on with the night.” I stroll to the elevator and press the button. It’s already on my floor, so the doors part and I step inside. I’m alone, besides the men talking in my ear, but they aren’t talking about anything important right now.

  Since we are on the top floor, I have a long ride down to the ballroom. I stare at myself in the mirrors surrounding me, my blue eyes stark against the silver of the mask. The elevator stops abruptly, and I turn away from my reflection, so I don’t look so conceited. I wasn’t looking at myself because I was admiring my reflection but because I’m wondering who I am.

  The elevator doors open and my heart beats in my chest, wildly and profoundly, like a jackhammer is pounding against my sternum when I see Heather. My god, she looks fucking beautiful.

  “Hi,” she greets, and she moves to the far back corner to stay away from the man she doesn’t know.

  But she does.

  The dress hugs her body, every curve, but doesn’t show much skin besides her shoulders. Heather looks tainted in darkness, yet draped in elegance, and I want to kiss those bare shoulders to see if she tastes as sinful as she looks. She has her mask in her hand, swinging it back and forth as she waits for the elevator to start descending.

  She hasn’t pressed a button, but she’s too flustered to notice.

  I reach in front of her, knowingly brushing against her arm as I hit the button. She inhales a sharp breath but doesn’t say a word. The tension in the elevator grows. My fingers twitch to pull her into my arms and kiss her within an inch of her life, but I can’t.

  No.

  I have to.

  The space between us can no longer exist because the man I am is less than the man I was when I was with her. She looks too beautiful not to take notice and tell her.

  I’m a glass fucking ceiling and she’s the damn object that shatters me. I pull on the emergency handle and the alarm rings for a few seconds before we are encompassed in darkness and the lights of the generator come on.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice shaking. “Please, don’t hurt me. I…I…”

  “Heather.” I turn toward her and take my mask off, showing her that she has no reason to fear me. The last thing I expected was to see her in the elevator, but I’m glad I did before we get lost in the sea of people waiting in the ballroom, especially the people waiting for her.

  “Asher?” she whispers, her green eyes big, wide, and happy. “Asher!” She launches herself at me and I barely have time to wrap my arms around her before her lips are on mine.

  She kisses me.

  It takes me a minute to process what is happening because I expected to be the one to figure out when to kiss her first. She rips away from me when I don’t kiss her back and rejection reflects in the light blue flecks of her eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I should have thought, but I just—”

  I don’t give her time say anything else, I wrap on arm around her waist and cup the back of her skull with the other, pulling her closer. I smash my lips against her again, this time not second guessing or overthinking it, but kissing her like my life fucking depends on it. Her tongue searches for mine and I eagerly meet hers, dancing an erotic tango as our lips mold together like they were always meant to.

  Heather’s whimper is the catalyst to my restraint. I push her against the wall and cup her jaw with my hands, moaning into her mouth with how fucking delicious she tastes. God, I want to push her legs apart, undo my belt, and sink inside her tight pussy that was made me for me. I know she was. I’ve always known, it’s why I never knew what to do with Heather Thomas, but I do now.

  She’s going to be Heather Haven if I have anything to say about it.

  Her hands run up my chest and across my shoulders, then slip down to unbutton my blazer. The jacket falls to the floor and she slides her hands around my sides until she is cupping my shoulders.

  The kiss is endless, but I swear, my heart has fucking stopped. I have her here. In my arms. Kissing me.

  Out of all the men she could want.

  She’s showing me she wants me. Me.

  Her lips are a red wine and I’m ready to drink her dry until I’m fucking drunk. I keep my hands at the appropriate spot. She might be kissing me, which means she’s made progress mentally, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready to have me feel her up and grope her. I keep my hands around her hips, gripping them softly, but not so hard that it tells her I’m about to hike up her skirt.

  The air is sucked from my lungs when she bites down on my lip. My cock rubs against her thigh, and I pull away, shaking with the last thread of self-control I have. There’s a wet spot forming on the front of my pants, and I’m on the verge of coming just from finally having her against me.

  I’ll kick myself in the ass for this later, but I break the kiss and lean my forehead against hers and gasp for air. I’m sweating, my hands are rubbing up and down the curve of her waist, and her sweet breath is tingling my lips. Calming down is going to be impossible after a kiss like that.

  Let me say this, I’ve kissed a hundred women, and every tongue tasted the same, but not Heather’s. Her kiss is the first kiss that’s made me hold my breath and hope it never ends. Her kiss is the first kiss that has me wondering if I’m doing it right. Her kiss, her lips, they might not have been my first, but damn it, I need them to be my last.

  I need her to be my last.

  “Asher,” my name leaves her swollen lips, and I rub my nose against hers, placing another peck on her hot mouth.

  “Hey baby,” I finally untwist my tongue. A half laugh-half groan slips from me and then a vice of emotion takes over chest. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too. I’m so sorry, Asher. I thought I’d never see you again. I don’t deserve you being here. I’m—”

  “Shh,” I say, taking the sides of her head in my hands. “I forgive you. It’s okay. Let’s just move forward.”

  She dives in for another kiss and who am I to deny her? We take our time, rubbing our tongues against one another. She freezes when she feels the hard ridge of my shaft against her. I take a small step away so I’m not scaring her. “It’s what you do to me. I can’t hide it, but I swear, I won’t ever act until you’re ready.”

  “No, I…it didn’t scare me… it just surprised me is all. I wasn’t expecting that. I… I like that I do that to you.” She wipes the side of her lip off and glances at the floor, blushing. “Only you, though. No one else. Everyone else…”

  “There has been someone since you left me?” Fuck, that sounded jealous, immature, and possessive, but the thought of her with anyone else, when I’ve been waiting so long for her, it drives me to a murderous edge.

  “What? No, nothing like that. No one, since…him,” she says, unable to ever say his name. “I mean just everyone else gives me anxiety, but you don’t. I trust you, but I don’t trust the world around me.”

  I blow out a breath and take a step forward, leaning my palm flat on the mirror beside her head. Peering down her dress, I see the valley of her tits, and I growl, wanting to slide my finger over the curve
s.

  I don’t.

  “You trust me?” I bombard her space. “Even when I’m like this.” My chest is aligned with hers. Our pelvises touch, and I know she can feel my erection. I tease my lips over hers, not wanting to kiss her just yet. “And like this?” I drift my hands up her torso, grab her ribcage right below her breasts. “And this?”

  “Yes,” she admits, leaning in to try and close the distance.

  “Good, baby,” I say, so fucking relieved that I could shout it from the rooftops. “Why?” I’m curious, wondering why she has decided to pick me, when I’m the man she used to hate.

  She grazes her hand along my jaw and sparks ignite from the path of her fingers against my skin. I lean into her touch, then decide she isn’t close enough, and place my hand on hers to flatten her palm against my cheek. “Because you’re patient, kind, smart, and strong. You protected me when I didn’t deserve it, but if I want to be honest, I’ve trust you from the moment we met when we were just kids. I did the unimaginable to a good man and I will never forgive myself for what I did to you,” she states, choking up when her eyes water. “You deserve more than how I treated you, but I can be more because I’m not the same woman I used to be. And I know,” she swallows, tickling the side of my neck with the tips of her fingers until she pauses at my chest where my heart is wild, pounding ferociously. “I know what happened to me is terrible and I know you might not have patience for me anymore, or want me as much because I’m… dirty, but—”

  Anger and frustration, hurt, despair, every fucking negative emotion bolts through me as if I’ve been struck by lightning. I grab her chin and back her up against the wall once more. “I don’t ever want to hear you talk about yourself like that again. Do you understand?” Heat flares behind my eyes at the threat of fucking tears because it fucking breaks me that she thinks of herself like that. “You are not dirty. You are clean. You are mine, Heather. You’ve always been mine and some fucking sick asshole put his filthy hands on you, took advantage of you, but not once, not ever does that make you fucking dirty.”