by Bex Dane
Captivated by Cutter © 2020 by Bex Dane.
All rights reserved.
Published by Larken Romance
Cover by Elizabeth Mackey Designs
Photo by Rafa Catala
Model: Álvaro Torralbo
Editing by Trenda London of It's Your Story Content Editing
Captivated by Cutter (Twist Brothers Book One)
He's flawed, scarred, and utterly beautiful.
As a special effects makeup artist, I turn people into monsters using prosthetics and paint.
But it's all fake.
Cutter Twist has real scars that disfigure his body and haunt his thoughts. They make him obsessed with revenge and closed to love.
I could spend hours unravelling the workings of this man, but I've trusted him before and ended up with my heart in pieces.
So I'm making a vow with myself. No falling in love with Cutter Twist. And definitely no sex with him either.
I'm doing my best to honor my pact, but darn him for inserting himself into my business! Catching glimpses of his caring and funny sides makes it nearly impossible to keep my promise.
When he plants a passionate kiss on my lips moments after a fierce brawl to defend his family's honor, it's hopeless. I'm done trying to resist him.
Just as I'm about to toss my vow to the curb, a sharp blade from his past drives a huge wedge between us.
All I can do is hope he trusts me to help him fight the most important battle of his life.
If he doesn't, the monsters win and we lose.
Captivated by Cutter is an angsty, action-packed standalone romance and the first book in the exciting new Twist Brothers series by best-selling author Bex Dane.
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Contents
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Contents
Prologue Ten Years
Chapter 1 Hate Fuck
Chapter 2 Watch Over Yourself
Chapter 3 The Redhead
Chapter 4 Escape Hatch
Chapter 5 Space Brothers
Chapter 6 Riding Boots
Chapter 7 Bucket List
Chapter 8 Outnumbered
Chapter 9 Pink Door
Chapter 10 The Queen Mary
Chapter 11 Wiggle Wiggle
Chapter 12 Toxic
Chapter 13 Tail Lights
Chapter 14 Losing Battle
Chapter 15 House of Horror
Chapter 16 Bubbles
Chapter 17 No Big Deal
Chapter 18 Huge Deal
Chapter 19 Invite
Chapter 20 Hatchets
Chapter 21 Juliet
Chapter 22 Tom Sawyer
Chapter 23 Faking It
Chapter 24 Remy
Chapter 25 Pay It Forward
Chapter 26 Bruce
Chapter 27 Willow
Playlist
Coming Soon - Memorizing Mace (Twist Brothers Book Two)
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"I have an entire forest inside me and you have carved your initials into every tree." — Pavana
Prologue Ten Years
Knox(Cutter)
For ten years, I've stalked this man. Now, it's time to strike.
My adopted family has warned me to let it go. My biological sister begs me to leave him alone. They care about me. I get it.
But I can't move on until the rage burning inside me is smothered. Until justice is served. Until he faces his reckoning.
Forgetting about it is like letting him get away with murder. He hurt me, my sister, my mother. I know in my gut he continues to hurt people. I just need to catch him in the act.
I've been waiting for him to slip up, and I think my chance is finally here.
Three Virginia's Secret lingerie models have disappeared in one month. Gone without a trace.
The police aren't even looking into the company's owner and CEO, Arthur Morganstein. He's too high profile and famous to be investigated.
But I'm sure he's behind it.
So here I sit in front of Morganstein's gated estate in Beverly Hills.
The palm trees enshrouding the perimeter fence blow in the warm California breeze. Three weeks I've been sitting here on my bike waiting for something to happen. It never does.
With a click, the iron gate in front of the residence rolls to the right. Jackpot. Headlights crest the hill and a black Lincoln Town Car turns into the drive. Before the gate closes, a van follows the first car in.
This is my chance. My heart pounds as I run from my bike, up the hill, and jump through the last sliver of opening before the gate slams shut.
I have to creep around in the bushes to find a vantage point. Arthur Morganstein steps out of the first car, his bald head shining in the lights, and the rage flares again. He's such an asshole with his smug face and tailored suits.
He opens the back door to the van. Two, three, four young women, dressed in tight dresses and heels, climb out. They giggle with nervous laughter.
Those poor women have no idea they're in danger. They're probably excited to be invited to Arthur Morganstein's mansion. So sick.
They enter the residence together, and I have to force myself to stay put. It would be so satisfying to barge in there and slash his throat. But that will accomplish nothing. One thing I've learned over the last ten years is self-control. Patience, preparation, and practice.
If I want to take down Arthur Morganstein, I have to find a way into one of those parties and figure out what's going on.
The thought makes bile rise in my throat.
I don't want to be near him, much less talk to him.
But I have to do it.
If justice is going to be served, it's going to be me who delivers it.
Chapter 1 Hate Fuck
Cass
My best friend Tash drops me off in front LA Confidential, an upscale nightclub in Beverly Hills. My heart thumps as I burst through the door and scan the room.
If Dayton is here, I'll kill him.
He's a self-centered jerk for what he did. He's the king of jerks. The jerkiest of all jerkdom. King Jerk.
No. I'm not going to kill him. I'm going to play him like he played me. Let him feel the pain and humiliation of being taken advantage of.
I don't see Dayton, but my grand entrance attracted the attention of a big biker dude with long hair and a black leather jacket. He glances at me then hunches over his beer again. He's totally out of place in this club full of Sony execs from Burbank and people pretending to be somebody. This guy doesn't care what anyone thinks of him. He's here to have a beer and that's it.
I work my way through the crowd and find Dayton at the back booth. Our booth. Well, not our booth but the booth where we met. The booth where he charmed the pants off me and somehow suckered me into dating him.
He's wearing the same white button-down shirt, looking deceptively handsome and innocuous, but he's a manipulative bastard, only thinking of himself and putting on a sensitive front to convince women to give him what he wants.
How could I be so gullible to fall for his act? I'm always giving people the benefit of the doubt and always regret it!
The girl sitting next to him is blonde, petite, and pretty. She's just like me. She's the next victim in his quest to fuck all of Los Angeles.
Taking a deep breath, I slow down and approach them casually. He startles when he sees me and quickly removes his arm from around her shoulders.
"Hey, Dayton. How are you? So good to see you and your friend." I give them a fake smile. I'm dressed to kill
in my little black dress and platinum blonde hair styled in lazy shoulder-length curls.
"Cassiopeia," he says without looking me in the eye. I've asked him not to call me that and he continually does it. He swallows like he's guilty, which he totally is.
"I got your lovely text."
"Uh…"
"Such a sweet text to send the day after I finally agreed to sleep with you." I hold up my phone and read it loud enough for the girl next to him to hear. "You're not my type after all. Bye."
He stands up and brushes past me. He's too embarrassed to do this in front of his new girl. Doesn't want her to see how he eats them up and spits them out.
As soon as she's out of earshot, he turns on me and his face is livid. "What the hell are you doing following me around town?"
"I just wanted to let your new girlfriend know your old girlfriend thinks you're a jerkified jackass." I hate confrontations, but he has me so angry, I don't care anymore.
"Shut up and get the hell out of here."
See? Total jackass. I can't believe I thought I loved this guy.
He walks up to the bar and signals to get the bartender's attention. I follow behind him and stop next to the biker dude.
I speak in a mocking voice to Dayton's back. "You're beautiful, just my type, looking for a girl like you all my life, I have to have you, can't wait any longer. Do you pull that on all the girls until they sleep with you and then they get the breakup text the next day? When their hopes are up that they actually connected with someone nice and you knock them down with a breakup text? Is that the true you?"
Finally he turns to me and gives me his full angry gaze. I never realized before how thick and prominent his eyebrows are. "You want the truth? My penis connected to your cunt. It was good, but not worth your crazy."
At the horrible double C-words, I gasp and the beard on the biker dude's chin tilts toward me.
Dayton's blaming me for this? He created all of this. He pursued me. He screwed me then called it off with a text.
"Let's be honest, shall we?" I prop my hands on my hips and prepare to go in for the kill. "The truth is… I faked it."
"What?"
"I faked the orgasms, Dayton. All one of them." He scowls at me then glances around to see if anyone heard me. I'm pretty sure the biker dude is getting an earful, but no one else is even looking. "Where's that girl? Hey, you?" She can't hear me, but this is pissing off Dayton so I'm going to milk it and fully humiliate him. "Dayton can't figure out nature's Rubik's Cube!" I scream with my hand over my mouth like a megaphone.
"Don't you dare, Cassiopeia." He grabs my wrist and pulls me back.
The biker dude stands up and glares at Dayton's hand on my arm.
"Let me go." I struggle to pull free, but he tightens his grip. "My fellow female should be aware you can't find where the sidewalk ends."
"Shut your pie hole." He yanks my arm and I stumble into him.
"Ow." As I'm trying to regain my balance, biker dude grasps Dayton's hand from my wrist, twists it, and wrenches it back. Dayton cries out in pain. A huge warm leather-clad arm wraps around my neck and hauls me off-center until I crash into a wall of cotton.
Oy vey. This guy's chest could span the Grand Canyon. And it's hard as rocks! He's a giant and he has me in his clutches.
Then we're on the move. I can't see anything except his black tee and the zipper of his jacket. My feet are shuffling awkwardly through the bar as Dayton's cries and grunts grow louder and more urgent.
Oh shoot. Did I piss this guy off? He's mad at Dayton, right? I hope I didn't anger him with my taunts about clitori. I'm pretty sure he's mad at Dayton not me. That's good because I would not want this man angry at me under any circumstances.
I catch a glimpse of Dayton on his ass on the concrete sidewalk outside the open front door of the bar. He's rubbing his arm and glaring up at the biker dude. When the Goliath arm finally releases my neck, I'm face-to-face with a real-life giant. My gaze travels up his black tee, past his scruffy beard, and into azure-blue eyes. Wow.
Two bar employees and some random people have gathered to stare wide-eyed and curious at us.
"You okay?" his deep voice asks me.
Am I? A quick inspection of myself shows my dress is still covering all my privates, my shoes are still on, and my pocket purse is still hanging from my shoulder.
I nod but I think my mouth might be hanging open. This all happened so fast.
He flicks his fingers toward the back of the bar and the nosey onlookers scatter. "It's over. Get on with it." I don't see the girl Dayton was with anywhere. She might have left with him but hopefully she ran from him.
Big biker dude turns and stalks away from me. His shoulders are stiff and he takes a deep breath as he folds into his seat.
I sit down next to him and slam the bar. "Give me a drink. Give me several. Bring me all the drinks."
The bartender laughs and comes to me. "What'll it be?"
What will it be? That's the question. Will my heart ever be happy? Will I ever find love? Are all men jerks? "Tequila shots. Six of them."
The bartender smiles and turns away.
"That guy's an ass," the biker dude says to me in a deep rich voice.
"I'm going to kill him."
"No you're not."
"I'm going to pour fish in his car and burn his house down."
Biker dude shakes his head like he doesn't believe me.
"I should fuck somebody else."
"What?" His blue eyes lock on mine, but he doesn't turn his head. A sideways glance. He either doesn't know what I'm talking about or he doesn't believe I'd do it.
"A revenge fuck. That'll teach him to treat me like that." I laugh but it's not funny. I would totally do it to get back at him.
The bartender brings me the shots and my hands shake as I swallow the first one. It burns down my throat and I hiss. This is good. Sear the memory of Dayton and my own foolishness out of my memory. "I want to hurt him. The best way would be to get it on with someone else. Anyone else."
I look around the bar to see if there's any single guys who might be takers. My heart is pounding fast and I'm serious as hell. "The next stranger to say hello to me is gonna get hate fucked."
The biker sets his beer down and swivels his legs toward me. "Hello." I can barely hear him because I'm staring between his wide-spread legs, which are up on the rung of the barstool. His faded jeans fit him like they were made for his thick thighs. He twists his torso too and now he's fully facing me. God, the energy coming off him is intimidating. He just threw a guy out of a bar with one hand.
"Hello?" I repeat.
He points at his chest. "Stranger saying hello." He's not smiling. He's dead serious. His chest is heaving, his eyes are narrowed, and his face is flush. Oh yeah, he's raging. Dayton must have really pissed him off. "I'm open to a hate fuck and you're fuck-hot so, yeah. You joking?"
A huge lump forms in my throat. This guy is gorgeous, wild, and fuming mad. He's sexy as hell and the thought of having sex with him makes my insides turn to jelly. I bet his dick is huge and he knows how to find a clitoris. I cough to clear my throat. "Not joking."
His eyes flare and he's off his seat with my tiny hand in his big mitt. He's towing me to the back of the bar.
"Uh. What's your name?" I manage to get out.
"Name's Knox," he throws back quickly. "But they call me Cutter."
Cutter? Oy vey. Even his name is dangerous. What have I gone and done now?
Chapter 2 Watch Over Yourself
We're out the back door as the noise from the bar switches to the quiet hum of freeway traffic in the alley. It's a warm night, and the fresh air clears my lungs.
He smashes me up against the concrete wall of the building and presses his body flat to mine. Each rigid bump of his front molds to my soft curves and we're locked together like two puzzle pieces. Angry lips crash down on my mouth, and a hot wet tongue probes inside without asking for access.
The force of hi
s kiss makes me think he's not angry at Dayton. No. He's battling some war of his own and he's using me too. I'm down with that. Let's do it.
The way he's channeling all kinds of raw emotion at me drives me wild. He's a machine operating at peak performance, and I'm the target of one hundred percent of his output. It's overpowering and beautiful. I channel my fury into the kiss and match his intensity. I can go toe-to-toe with his anger, not even knowing what he's fuming at. As long as he's being honest, I love it.
My hands grip his solid hips and slip over the loops of his jeans. The urgency of it all makes my heart race. His tongue ravages my mouth as I explore the chiseled rocks that make up his ass. He must be some kind of athlete. Normal men don't have bodies this hard. Dayton certainly didn't. And Dayton's an asshole so this is the perfect revenge.
One of his hands squeezes my hip and the other fists my hair at the nape of my neck. He tugs till my chin is tilted up and my frantic breaths pant into the air. Heat from his lips burns a trail of fire down my neck and chest. The rumble of his growl in my cleavage triggers a primal satisfaction in me. My body evokes this visceral reaction from him, positive or negative, it's potent.
I slip my fingers under the hem of his shirt and explore the curve of his spine under his T-shirt. Something raises my fingertips like speedbumps, and it makes me pause in the chaos. This mysterious stranger has a story, a life, a family. Using him like this feels wrong without knowing the why. Why is he so furious? What are these bumps on his back?
I open my mouth to attempt to talk to him, but my feet leave the ground. His strong arms have scooped me up under my thighs, and he's carrying me to the parking lot.
"Where are we going?" I ask with the thrill of excitement and adventure peaking my tone.
"Shut it."
Shut it? Okay. Never mind. I don't care who this guy is. He's a piece of hot meat, and I'm taking out all my frustration on him. We're both using each other for our own secret reasons. We don't have to talk about it. He sits my butt down on a gorgeous Harley Davidson and grabs one ankle, lifting it over the bike so I'm straddling the seat looking backwards.
