Billionaire’s Captive: A Beauty and the Rose Box Set

by Black, Stasia

  I cut off her shirt and bra, and grab another rose, running it down her back. She naked but for a see-through pair of panties. She shivers, but not from cold. I keep it warm down here. No, she’s already falling under my spell.

  “Is this what you wanted, Daphne?” I murmur. “To know what I would do to keep you? The lengths I would go?” I run the rose down the cleft of her ass, smirking as she shifts her weight from foot to foot. “You want me to claim you, don’t you? Here?” I palm her ass, squeezing gently before giving the firm globe a smack. She jolts against the cross. “Do you need your Master to claim all of you?”

  “You’re nuts,” she breathes, but her accusation holds no heat. I grab a fistful of her thick hair and ease her head back. She’s already panting, lips parted, nipples beaded. Her eyes are hooded and I bet if I checked her pussy, she’d be sopping wet.

  “Doesn’t take much with you, does it?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Oh, you most certainly will be. Fucked long and hard by me.”

  Now she’s rocking her hips, seeking stimulation against the wooden cross.

  “Ah ah,” I tsk. Time to turn in my rose for a sterner implement. I braid her hair loosely and tuck it over her shoulder, out of the way. I run my hands up and down her limbs and back, then select a flogger.

  “Let’s get you warmed up.” I snap the flogger, letting the leather strands rain on her back. Her shoulders immediately relax as she accepts the sensations. The thudding strands give her a massage, with a light sting mixed in.

  Her pale limbs are rosy by the time I’m done. And her back is arched, her body rising to meet the flogger.

  “Good girl.”

  She sighs at my praise. I slip a hand between her mons and the cross, finding her smooth folds and stroking them. Her juices coat my fingers.

  How can she not realize she was born for this? Made for me? Why is she so quick to throw it away?

  I grit my teeth and pull away. She whimpers but doesn’t fight when I undo her bindings and lead her to a spanking bench. She bends over willingly, offering up her bottom to my most depraved whims.

  I hook my fingers into the side of her panties and jerk outwards, tearing the lace. I let the flimsy scraps fall to the floor. “Count,” I order and let my hand fall on her reddened ass. After five, her voice is choked with tears. Her hips wiggle a little but she doesn’t try to escape.

  And I fall to my knees. “Good girl. You’ve earned your reward.” I tip her over further, baring her sweet cunt to my mouth. I lick up all her juices and probe her ass with my tongue as she squeals.

  “You like that, dirty girl?” My cock is a steel bar pressed to the front of my slacks. I rim her dark whorl with the tip of my finger before pressing inside. “Breathe out and bear down,” I order, and smack her ass when she doesn’t immediately comply. Her tight ass swallows my thick finger and I reward her, tickling her clit until she cums with a cry.

  “Fuck me.” I can’t shuck out of my pants fast enough. Thank gods I had all this furniture custom made for multiple uses. I prop her the way I want her and sink into her hot cunt, pounding her from behind. Her inner muscles flutter as her orgasm goes on and on. “That’s it, kitten. Cum on your Master’s cock.”

  I grab a handful of her hair and draw her head back, keeping her back arched. Her little cries are maddening and I roar, slamming my hips into her until the sturdy bench shakes. I fuck her like a wild man. An animal. A Beast.

  When I cum and pull out, she’s still shaking with aftershocks. I cup her ass, enjoying the heat searing my palm.

  “Soon, I will take all of you,” I promise as I gather her into my arms. I expect her to flinch and protest—she’s gone from virgin to dungeon in a few short days—but she snuggles against me. A happy, sated sub.

  “Logan,” she murmurs, twining her arms around my neck, bringing me closer to kiss me.

  And I’m lost. I could lock her away forever, make her depend on me for food, shelter, human interaction, become her everything, but it wouldn’t change the truth.

  Without her my life is meaningless.

  I need her more than she needs me.

  * * *

  “Please, Logan,” she whispers softly. “Just hear me out.”

  I’ve bathed and fed Daphne, and we’re back in the library, in front of the fire. She waited until we were cozy, laughing at old inside jokes, before setting down her hot chocolate and facing me. “I need to go see my father. He’s not well.”

  I rise and go to stand at the mantel. Who told Daphne to speak softly during negotiations? Because it’s working. I can’t bear to meet her trusting gaze.

  “I know you say he did terrible things to you—”

  “He did do terrible things.” I say to the gilt framed mirror above the fireplace. The reflective surface is old and warped, obscuring my marred face.

  “Logan, he’s the only father I’ve got. Please.”

  “No.”

  “The old Logan would help me,” she murmurs almost to herself. “He had compassion.”

  “The old Logan is dead. Coded twice, remember?”

  She’s quiet, but I feel the weight of her gaze on my back. Her hope. I thought it’d be easier when she knew who I was, accepted it. Fuck me, it’s not.

  “Logan, if there’s anything left of the man you were—”

  “There isn’t.” I laugh bitterly. “Because of them.”

  Soft footfalls on the carpet herald her. She touches my back, urging me to turn.

  I almost back away before I remind myself that she’s not the predator. I am. But she puts her hands on either side of my face. She doesn’t flinch when her soft hands touch marred skin. She looks me right in the eye. “You don’t have to be like them.”

  I’m nothing like them. But when it comes to her, there’s no line I won’t cross.

  “You’re staying here,” I order, hardening myself. “And that’s final.”

  Twenty-Four

  Logan

  The next morning, I’m settled by the fire in the library when I hear a door open and close. I’m on my feet, pounding down the hall. She wouldn’t just leave, would she?

  She’s standing in the hall, her head stuck in a closet. “I’m looking for a coat.” She pulls out a heavy fur—a leftover from the former owner’s wife—and makes a face.

  I take the coat from her. “Why?”

  “I want to walk in the garden.”

  “It’s too cold.”

  “Please, Logan.”

  It’s getting harder and harder to say no to her.

  “Fine,” I mutter. “But the second I think you’re too cold and order you back inside, you obey, understand? You’re still recovering.”

  She nods, smiling. And after I’ve bundled her up and shrugged on my great coat, I hold out my hand. She takes it, drapes it over her shoulders and tucks herself into my side.

  We head out together, braving the bitter cold to view the sad winter garden. She’s so small it takes two of her steps to match my long stride. I slow for her benefit, keeping a careful eye on her flushed cheeks. How have I lived so long without her smile? Without her near? Her presence at my side feels so right.

  I guide her through the winter garden, pointing out the greenhouse down the hill where I grow tropical plants. I offer to show it to her but she declines, preferring to amble the frosty path, her breath puffing in the freezing air. We reach the part of the hill that overlooks the labyrinth and she studies the maze of tall evergreens.

  “Who designed the labyrinth?” she asks.

  “I did, years ago. Before I owned the place. I did the one for the Autumnal ball, too.”

  Her forehead wrinkles. I know she’s thinking of that night, our meeting in the maze.

  “You know, when you fainted, I first thought it was because you recognized me.”

  She shakes her head, her gaze still unfocused.

  “When you didn’t wake, I panicked. Your pupils were dilated.”

  “I know,” sh
e murmurs. “Someone at the ball thought I’d been taking belladonna.”

  “You had quite a cocktail of drugs in your system.” I clench my jaw when I think of it. If I hadn’t been there…

  She presses her lips together, studying my face. And I know what she’s thinking.

  “It wasn’t me. I would never do that, Daphne.”

  “Hmmm,” she says. But when I turn her to start back to the castle, she doesn’t pull away.

  “Yet another reason you should stay here,” I tell her. “We don’t know who tried to drug you. Whether it was an accident or meant for someone else. Or if someone’s targeting you…” I make a mental note to check in with my contacts in the city. I sent a private investigator to uncover more about that night, but haven’t heard anything. And I’ve been a little distracted since.

  Daphne doesn’t protest, doesn’t argue, but her steps slow as we reach the frozen terrace. She stops and stares up at the sheer stone face of the castle wall.

  “The tallest building,” she mumbles.

  “What’s that?”

  “Nothing. Something I read once. A quote by Joseph Campbell: ‘If you want to understand what's most important to a society, don't examine its art or literature, simply look at its biggest buildings.’” Her eyes scan the grey-green stone, the towers, the turrets.

  “My little homeschool genius.” I brush a tendril of hair from her face.

  She rolls her eyes at me. “It makes sense. In medieval times, the tallest building in a village was a cathedral. Religion ruled. Then came the political palace.”

  I study the castle with her. “And a castle? What does that mean?”

  She faces me, penetrating me with her fierce green gaze.

  “High walls,” she says. “An impenetrable stone fortress.” She tilts her head. “You don't want to let anyone in.”

  I straighten her coat and pull her close. “I let you in.”

  She raises a brow. I can hear her thinking, yes, as your prisoner. A reluctant guest, at best.

  “Come. It’s too cold.” I release her and guide her to the door, a hand on her back. She hesitates on the threshold, and it takes everything I have not to throw her over my shoulder.

  I’m putting the coats back into the closet when she says in a low voice, “You think the walls will keep me in. But I'm not the one actually imprisoned here.”

  “What do you mean?” I take her elbow and steer her to the nearest fireplace. I position her in front of the blaze, but it’s not enough. Taking her hand, I start to chafe it.

  “When was the last time you left this place? Other than the night of the ball.”

  “You forget.” I drop her right hand and reach for the left. “I waited for you at your mother’s grave.”

  She flushes, bowing her head.

  I gentle my tone, really considering her question. “But you're right. Before that, I’d been a year in this place without stepping out the front door. But what about you, Daphne? What's the tallest building in your life?” When she gives no answer, I supply it. “Belladonna. The aptly named. Beautiful woman. Poison.”

  She sighs. “We help people.”

  “Is that why your father moved the headquarters to the most expensive area in the city?” I catch her chin. “New Olympus worships power. Money. Greed.”

  “I don’t deny it. Logan, I’m trying to change it. To hold to my ideals. You could help me.” For a moment her expression blazes with hope. Then she turns to the fire, shuttering her expression, angling her face away.

  And I’ve never felt more like a monster.

  “Daphne.”

  She turns, her cheeks still pink from the chill. Gods, she’s so beautiful. She’s more than I deserve.

  And I must be crazy because I open my mouth and hear myself saying, “If I let you go, you must promise to return.”

  She doesn’t respond right away. She squints those perfect green eyes, studying me.

  “You have to promise,” I say raggedly. I’m surprised my chest hasn’t cracked down the middle, that I’m not bleeding out in the middle of the frostbitten garden. Because that’s how it feels.

  She leans into me and I almost stagger with relief. I need her close, always.

  “I’m not the one who left and stayed away,” she reminds me. She lays her hand on my cheek again, looks me straight in the eye. “I promise.”

  Twenty-Five

  Daphne

  The same kindly old cabbie picks me up in his taxi. If he’s curious why he keeps ferrying a young woman back and forth from the city to this castle, he holds his tongue.

  Logan stands on the stoop, dark and forbidding in his greatcoat.

  “I promise,” I mouth. I watch him until the road curves and the castle disappears.

  “Oh thank gods,” Rachel gasps when I call her. “The board is breathing down my neck. They’ve been here since practically dawn, holed up in the executive conference room.” Plotting your removal I hear the end of the sentence she doesn’t speak.

  “Tell them I’m on my way. I have to make a stop first.”

  * * *

  “Daphne,” my father greets me. He looks thinner than when I last saw him, but there’s a healthier flush to his cheeks. Maybe Rachel was wrong? Maybe he’s actually doing better?

  “Dad,” I kiss his cheek and stand a little ways from the bed. “I need to ask you some things. You’re not going to like it but I need to hear the answers.”

  “Is this about the patents? Because—”

  “No. Not exactly.” I take a deep breath. Steady. “Why didn’t you tell me what happened to Logan?”

  In a flash, my father grows so pale I jolt with alarm. “Dad?” I take his hand.

  “You can’t trust him.” Eyes wide, he squeezes the life out of my hand. “Daphne, please, promise me you won’t ever go near him.”

  Promise me.

  “Dad, you’re scaring me. I can’t make that promise.”

  “He’s a bad man.”

  I sigh. I can’t really deny that. Good men don’t lock women in towers or torture them in dungeons. Even if that torture was delicious…

  “I’m a grown woman. I can make my own decisions.” Coming here was a mistake. My father is too frail to answer for his past mistakes.

  I lean forward and press a kiss to his liver-spotted brow. “Don’t worry about me. You just focus on getting better.”

  “I won’t rest easy until I know you’re safe.”

  “I’m safe. I’m here, aren’t I? And I’m headed to the office next. I’m going to meet with the board.”

  “I know. Adam called. He’s meeting you there.”

  I press my lips together. I can’t exactly tell my dad I’m going to stop the merger and figure out another way to save Belladonna without selling out to Archer Industries. Even if Adam did half the evil things Logan accused him of, I don’t trust him. Logan doesn’t trust my dad, either, but I’m sure there’s an explanation for my father’s actions.

  I just can’t ask him about it until he gets better.

  “Adam will fix everything.” Dad pats my hand. “You just listen to him. He’ll take care of my girl.”

  “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

  “Nonsense. I told Adam when he called he had my blessing. He’s going to make everything right.” Dad smiles.

  I’m about to ask what he means when the new nurse walks in. “Dr. Laurel?”

  “Yes?” My dad and I say at the same time. This time he does laugh. “This is my girl,” he tells the nurse proudly. “Youngest recipient of the Avicennius grant. CEO of a top research firm at only twenty-five years old.”

  “You must be so proud,” the nurse coos.

  I force a smile to my face. I used to love when my dad talked about me this way. But now I want to make him look in my eyes as I ask: Am I just a sum of my achievements? Will you ever see the real me?

  No one knows you like I know you, Logan told me. Is this what he meant?

  “—time for you
r medication,” the nurse is saying. “Maybe your daughter could come back tomorrow?”

  “Of course,” I rise, leaning down to kiss my dad’s cheek. “I’ll be back.”

  “Daphne,” he fumbles with my hand. “I love you.”

  “Love you, too.” Even if I’m no longer going to live to please you.

  Rachel is waiting in her car to pick me up.

  “You’re alive.” She looks relieved, still perfectly put together in a pink skirt suit.

  “I’m alive.” The cold surrounds me but I don’t feel it. “I have so much to tell you.”

  “I bet. You look good though,” she looks me up and down before turning her attention to the road.

  “Thanks. I’ve been sick, actually, but I rested and I’ve never felt better.” It’s true. Being with Logan was like waking from a dream.

  “Well, I’m glad you got some time to yourself. I’m sorry I couldn’t hold down the fort better than I did. Things are…really crazy right now.” There are stress lines on her brow I’ve never seen before.

  “Is Adam waiting for me?”

  “Yes. And the press are mobbing the place. They think there’s a scandal. And—” She bites her lip.

  “What is it?”

  “The board is still in closed door talks. I think they’re going to vote you out. I’m sorry, I—”

  “It’s not your fault,” I tell her firmly. “I shouldn't have bailed like that. But I had to.” I briefly outline what I’ve found out about Belladonna, including the secret sale of the patents and my meeting with the man who owns them.

  “Logan was my father’s old business partner. They founded Belladonna together, but they had a falling out and went their separate ways. Logan got my dad to sell the patents at a time when Belladonna was struggling. After my mom’s death.”

  “Crazy,” Rachel shakes her head.

  “You have no idea,” I murmur. Logan did all this under the guise of a different company, one he co-owned with the businessman who willed him the castle. And Logan believes my dad and Adam tried to kill him…