Hyland’s Consort
(A Rage and Revenge Novel):
A Dark Mafia Dark Necessities Romance.
Book Two
By
Felicity Brandon
Copyright © 2021 by Felicity Brandon
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]
This book is entirely a work of fiction.
The author does not condone, nor endorse any of the acts in this book.
First edition October 2021
Cover design by Raven Designs.
Editing by Personal Touch Editing.
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Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Hyland's Consort (The Rage and Revenge series., #2)
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I loved him.
I hated him.
But could I live without him?
Prologue
Sean Hyland
“YOU’RE SURE THIS IS what you want?” His expression serious, Crane’s fingers paused over the keyboard as he glanced up.
“Are you asking if I’m mentally competent?” I sniggered, amused the man I paid such a huge sum was questioning me.
“I’m asking if you’re sure.” His fingers went to work again, tap, tap, tapping on the plastic keys as he completed the paperwork. “I’d be remiss if I didn’t, sir. It’s all so...” He paused, apparently trying to think of the right word.
“Sudden?” My brow arched. He was right. The decision to take a wife was abrupt, to say the least, and contrary to the self-serving man I’d become, but Hilary had turned everything upside down. Since I got my hands on her, all I could think about was leading her down the aisle and finally claiming what was mine.
“Precisely.” Crane leaned forward, staring at me over his spectacles. “I’ve known you a long time, Mr. Hyland.” His tone was ominous, reminding me of one of my uncle Zander’s droning speeches... until Saul Morrison had put a bullet through Zander’s brain. “And I knew your uncle even longer. I just want to ensure your interests are protected.”
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do,” I assured him, offering the older man a smile. “You’ll ensure all Zander’s properties and assets are safeguarded in the event of divorce or my death.”
“They’re your assets now, sir.”
“That’s right.” I sighed, leaning back in the huge black leather seat. I still hadn’t wrapped my head around Zander’s death, let alone avenged the bastard who’d brought him down, but I would. I was working on both, and my new bride was the pièce de résistance. “Sometimes, it’s difficult to think about it that way.”
Crane considered me from behind the vast screen. “That’s understandable.” His tone was sympathetic. “The loss of Mr. Hyland was tragic. None of us want to believe he’s gone.”
Yet he was gone—murdered in the same grotty London office I was redecorating, brought to heel by the rival gang who’d been the thorn in his side his whole life.
“Still, you’re here now.” Crane’s lips twitched. “The next generation of Hyland, and I feel sure there’re brighter days to come.”
“Indeed, there are.” I pressed my fingertips together, contemplating the day in question. The wedding was set in only three days, and the documents Crane was putting together were the final loose ends to be tied up. “A great many. I thank you for your concern, Mr. Crane, as well as your long service, but my mind is made up. I’m marrying Miss Mantle.”
His brow rose at my emphatic tone, but a professional like Crane knew when to argue and when to get the job done. “Very good, sir.” He pressed his lips together, attention flitting back to the screen. “Then we’re nearly done here. I’ll just need a signature from Miss Mantle.”
“An electronic one won’t suffice?” I already knew the answer, but I asked anyway. Getting Hilary to Crane’s office was going to be an interesting challenge. I’d been keeping her in sensory deprivation, edging her closer and closer to ecstasy each time we played but never permitting her to reach the stars. After so long without the light, without hope and longing for my touch, Hilary had become quite the well-trained, eager pup. I could certainly get her to sign the paperwork, but taking her from the place I held her wasn’t my preferred option.
“I’m afraid not,” he replied. “I could bring the papers to your address if you desire?”
“No, I’ll bring her here.” I sighed, but even as the air was expelled, my lips curled, imagining my gorgeous blonde scampering around on all fours in Crane’s wood-paneled office. “She could use a trip out.”
Crane laughed. “Well, I’ve never heard my offices referred to that way, sir.”
My grin widened at his amusement. “These are strange times, Mr. Crane. I’m certain Hilary will appreciate the chance to meet you.”
“Very good,” he replied, his focus flitting between the screen and my face. “Does tomorrow suit you both? Better we get this finalized in advance of the wedding, I think.”
“Tomorrow is grand.”
I envisioned Hilary’s slender limbs moving across Crane’s old-fashioned carpet and her utter embarrassment at the public humiliation, but she may as well get used to it. Come the big day, she’d be bared and subjugated as much as I desired, and based on the way I was constantly aroused, that could be most of the day.
“What time, Mr. Crane?”
“I have an early slot.” He peered around the screen as if checking I was still there. Poor Derek Crane. I’d be willing to wager his office had never seen anything like my bride-to-be. “Nine in the morning?”
I inhaled at the thought of having to drag Hilary here so early. “I can make that work,” I agreed, trying to ignore the swell of passion that surged at the thought of Hilary and focusing on the dry, monotonous, but nonetheless significant reasons that brought me to Crane’s office. “It will give you the chance to meet my intended and see what all the fuss is about.”
“Yes, sir, though I’m sure she’s quite the catch. Why else would you want to get her down the aisle so quickly?” He grinned, revealing a line of crooked teeth, and I started to laugh.
“Why else, indeed?”
Chapter One
Hilary Mantle
THE SLITHER OF ILLUMINATION at the far end of the room edged across the wall. Cast from the tiny space behind the blackout blind, which leaked light, it was only a trickle, but it was all I had. In the days I’d been here, I noticed its pattern and envied it. I resented its routine, begrudged the fact it could move so freely when I could not, but over time, it had come to represent something greater than just the contrast between our fortunes—it began to indicate time. Based on its position, I could work out what time of day it was beyond the endless gloom of the place where he kept me, its presence
a fleeting semblance of normality in this new depravity.
Sighing, I watched its slow path, tension knotting in my shoulders. I was naked and bound to the chair again. I was always bound and naked. Tethered and unable to flee, enveloped in sultry shadows and, as usual, right on the edge of reason before I’d been abandoned. Fleetingly, my mind flitted back to the first day Sean Hyland had captured me, to the onslaught I’d been made to endure at his hands, the rounds and rounds of pleasure he’d ripped from my reluctant body in that dank little basement cell. That might as well have been a thousand years ago for all I could recall of the thunderous orgasms. Now, those climaxes were as out of reach as freedom itself. It was the game Sean loved to play—one that enthralled him while leaving me perpetually on the brink of breakdown. Each time he returned, I’d be permitted to move, but liberty came at a price. I’d have to cede to his demented will and allow him access to my body, permit him to torment me. There was no denying Sean could play the game. He was a champion competitor. We’d only just met, yet he was capable of stimulating me in ways most men could hardly conceive, and while he’d refrained from actually taking what he so clearly believed belonged to him, the threat was always there. I was his. His to tease, his to harass, his to garner thrills from, and one day, he would expect much more.
My insides tightened at the thought of that day. Sean had made no bones about it. It would be our wedding day, and apparently, it was looming faster than I imagined, though in the confines of this place, even the slither of light couldn’t illuminate how soon for me.
“Soon,” I whispered into the darkness, pleased for once, he’d permitted me the possibility.
Sean had a penchant for gags and enjoyed seeing me struggle in one. It was all shades of wrong, watching him harden at my dismay at not being able to communicate, but even worse was the pulverizing reality I enjoyed it, too. What could be worse than finding yourself in such a hopeless situation—hostage to the deranged rival of your boss—than discovering you actually relished his insidious attention? But it was true. I’d been wetter and needier than ever fettered in his bondage. Hornier than I’d been with any boyfriend and even needier than I’d been with Saul. My face screwed up at the unpleasant reality. Saul Morrison, the man who’d signed my paychecks for the last three years, was also the same man I’d bedded by choice before this ordeal—the man I thought I’d been in love with.
Where was Saul?
Glancing up, my gaze fixed on the dribble of light visible across the room. Was he out there somewhere, looking for me? Granted, we never got to the stage of saying we loved each other, and I wasn’t sure either of us was ready to declare undying devotion, but we’d been pretty damn close. If I knew anything about my lover, he protected everyone in his organization. He’d come for me—I knew he would—he’d never leave me to rot in the darkness with a ruthless cretin like Sean Hyland. That wasn’t Saul’s style. However, he wouldn’t anticipate how deep the rabbit hole had gone, wouldn’t dare guess at the devious games Sean played. Never in Saul’s wildest dreams would he imagine the nephew of his old gang rival would not only capture me but plan to marry me.
Once I was Mrs. Hyland, where could I go from there? There could be no coming back, no divorce lawyer who could wash away the stain of having actually been his wife. How could I go back to Saul’s organization, The Syndicate, after that? How could I go back to his bed? The short answer was, I couldn’t. If Sean insisted on this lunacy, he was forcing my hand into more than just marriage. He was imposing an entirely new life on me, a new job, a new social circle—if he ever allowed me out of this bloody room.
A shot of anger raced through me, my impotency swelling until it was difficult to take another breath. I still couldn’t believe this had happened. I’d been content with my life in a job I enjoyed with a decent group of friends. I’d finally found a man who respected me, a man I could envision a real future with, then this had happened. Now I was lucky if I could leave my damn chair, and when I did, Sean had me crouching over a bowl to relieve myself before I begged and pleaded for more of whatever pleased him.
If you’d have told me only a couple of weeks ago that this would be my fate, I’m certain I would have called you crazy, but not only was I Sean’s prisoner, in the haze of shadows and craving for the satisfaction he never offered, I couldn’t even contemplate how to escape. My head was a mess, spinning with every sound. Was that the creaking floorboard Sean approaching from behind the door? Was he about to arrive and turn my world on its head again?
Yes, he met my basic needs. He ensured I was fed and as clean as water and a sponge could achieve, but this neverending solitude was starting to drive me insane. Hours when only the noise of my frantic heartbeat kept me company, that and the slow progress of the slither of light—my only friend in this dark desolation. It had gotten to the point where I no longer knew what I wanted, wasn’t sure if I longed for Sean’s arrival, for human interaction, to be free of the chair at least. Or if I craved the boundless hours of seclusion, the time when I only had my thoughts for company.
Nothing seemed real anymore.
Just as the riddle burgeoned, threatening to implode in my mind once and for all, I heard the telltale sound of Sean’s imminent arrival, the noise of his tread reverberating until I swore I could actually feel the resonance.
Sean!
Once more, his approach brought with it an odd mixture of relief and trepidation. He was my only route out of this room. Whatever did or didn’t transpire—whether he compelled me to marry him, whether Saul came to my rescue, or in the short term, if I wanted to eat or ever get out of this bloody seat—I needed him in a very tangible way. Then there was the obvious reality of my predicament. Sean was the same man who’d snatched me from outside my home, pumped me full of sedative, and tormented me. There was nothing sane about being eager to see a man like that.
Just when I didn’t think the tension twisting inside could intensify any further, the key slid into the lock beyond the door. I’d heard the action countless times before, but still, each time it happened, my heart rate quickened, my throat drying as I tried to anticipate his next move. What mood would he be in when he opened that door? What would he want from me? Aside from the inevitable answer that he relished seeing me struggle, it was impossible to say, but knowing Sean, he wouldn’t keep me waiting long.
“There she is.” He threw the door open in triumph, my eyes blinking into the muted light it provided. “My bride-to-be.”
A shiver ran the length of my spine at his pronouncement. Frankly, I wasn’t certain I ever wanted to get married, let alone to some cocky criminal I didn’t really know.
“How have you been, gorgeous, a good girl, I hope?”
“Yes, Mr. Hyland, Sir.” I blew out a breath, the words he expected falling from my lips without a second thought.
Christ, what had happened to me? A few days in this anguished state and I’d ceded to his will, conditioned like an obedient pet to do his every bidding. The muscles at the apex of my thighs clenched at the debilitating thought. I loathed how he must perceive me—an easy blonde he could tie up and order around—but every time I tried to muster the energy to focus on who I really was, on the responses he deserved, Sean had an answer. An unceremonious trip over his knee for the type of humiliating spanking that left my head spinning and my arse in discomfort when he bound me to the chair again. A humbling request to demean me, often while he videoed the ordeal for so-called prosperity—he seemed to have a response for everything.
“Good girl.” He moved inside the room, closing the distance between us in a few strides. “Let me look at you.” One hand rose to my chin, pulling it north to meet his demanding eyes. “I have news, Hilary. News which may interest you.”
My belly tightened, anxiety pinballing. Anything that interested Sean was bound to mean more trouble for me, more reasons to worry, to cry, to be chastened.
“Want to hear my news?”
I blinked up at him, knowing there was only one
acceptable answer.
“Yes, please, Sir.”
He lowered to his haunches, the hand at my chin grazing over my exposed breast en route to my knee. My breathing accelerated, my helplessness to prevent his exploration of my body arousing and vexing in equal measure, his sudden proximity doing nothing to assuage my apprehensions.
“It’s time to get you out of here.” He smiled, one side of his face eerily lit by the subdued light coming from the open doorway. “Time to clean you up. We’re going on a little trip tomorrow.”
“To get m-married?” I could barely get the words out, but I had to know. He’d repeatedly implied he wanted our nuptials to be as soon as possible, and despite my friendly slither of light, it was possible I’d misjudged the days, that this was it—my time was up.
“No, not yet.” He chuckled, tenderly patting my knee as if I said something amusing. “Though it’s good to see you’re excited about the upcoming big event.”
Excitement? Is that what I’d conveyed with my stammering reaction?
“This time, it’s a trip to see my legal man, a few documents for my new bride to sign.” He leaned closer, edging between my parted knees. “Before you get to sign the important one on the day itself.”
My brow furrowed. I still couldn’t believe he expected me to play along with this ludicrous plan to get married, but I knew countering him at this juncture wouldn’t help my cause. It wouldn’t get me out of this chair, or indeed, out of this blasted room, and from the things he said, there was a brief glimmer of hope that his plan might be a way out of here. In the end, I said the one thing I knew would please him, the only thing guaranteed to win his approval.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
Chapter Two
Sean
AS STIMULATING AS HILARY was in my binds, she scarcely resembled the bold young woman who’d literally run into me in the coffee shop, the one who’d tipped the contents of her hot beverage all over my shirt. This version of Hilary was subdued, her pale skin absent of the cosmetics she’d so vehemently paid homage to in the past, her hair lank at her shoulders, but she was no less beautiful. There was splendor in her sunshine-deprived skin, wonder in the way she honored me with the correct title. Her confinement had helped her to blossom, preparing her, I hoped, for the vast task ahead of being my wife. Inching between her legs, I mused on the point. This woman—who I’d stolen from the streets—would soon be my spouse. It would be an adjustment for us both.
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