Gilded Cage (Harbour Bay Book 6)

by Camille Taylor

  Gilded Cage

  Camille Taylor

  A Harbour Bay Novel

  ***

  Chapter 1

  Swift economic movements carried the body through the sparkling crystalline water, the sun glittering like millions of diamonds on the ripples. Long legs kicked behind the definitely feminine form, propelling her from one end of the pool to the other. A head moved above water briefly to take in a deep breath before diving back below the surface. Blonde hair trailed behind the woman, acting as a curtain covering her back.

  The infinity pool which disappeared over the edge from its well-placed position, overlooked a panoramic view of the ocean from the greatest and unobstructed heights above Harbour Bay, a small city on the southern New South Wales coast.

  The pool filter hummed nearby and he breathed in the crisp, winter morning air.

  Declan O’Neill’s shoulder ached as it began to stiffen from lack of movement. He pushed the pain back, not wanting to draw attention to his disability. Not that his employer wasn’t aware of his recent wound, but he’d rather appear fully competent.

  He’d removed his sling earlier, sick of the hindrance. He’d been shot a month ago. Unfortunately, it had hit flesh rather than his bulletproof vest tearing through muscle and tendons. After weeks of gruelling physical therapy, it had become apparent to him and his doctors that he may never again have full mobility in his right arm.

  An icy chill ran through his veins. His career as a cop may as well be over and he still hadn’t come to grips with the painful realisation and what it meant for his future.

  Declan’s whole world seemed to be crashing down around him and he was afraid of losing his sense of self. He’d always been a cop and had no clue how he’d cope waking up every morning not being able to do the thing he loved and did well. He hopelessly fought against the bitterness taking residence inside him.

  Bethany Bennett came up for air, grasping the side of the pool to stay afloat. Her blue gaze locked on his companion, her father’s right-hand man before shifting to him. Her brow creased. Hoisting herself out of the pool, Declan had his first glimpse of his charge. Stream rose from her sleek and toned body, covered artfully in a tasteful navy one piece as the cool air hit her warm body. Declan knew then the pool was the heated kind.

  He also knew his body liked what he saw. Everything inside him tightened with desire and he adjusted his stance to accommodate his new condition, moving his hands which had been clasped behind his back to his front and covered his groin.

  Bethany snatched a robe from one of the chaise lounges surrounding the pool and quickly disappeared beneath the terry cloth. Pulling the cord closed tightly, she kept hold of the ends.

  “Declan O’Neill, Bethany Bennett.” Douglas Hooper made the introductions as Bethany wrung the water from her almost waist length hair.

  He had no desire to become a bodyguard to the rich, famous and spoilt but at the moment he didn’t have another choice; promising Caitlyn Harris he’d ensure her goddaughter’s safety.

  From what he had learned from the Harbour Bay Tribute and online was the elusive shipping heiress, Bethany Bennett was very much a pampered princess.

  As she neared, Declan calculated her age to be mid-twenties, her face pink from the change in temperatures. The spring in her step and the way she moved, her hips moving seductively even beneath the mass of towel also portrayed her youth and agility.

  Just as he surveyed her, Bethany scrutinised him. After a few quiet minutes, Bethany’s eyes darkened and her mouth set in a firm line. She didn’t speak as she stormed past him. Beside him, Douglas Hooper cursed. Together, they followed her throughout the richly adorned mansion. She pushed open two heavy oak doors with elaborate carvings and entered the room. As Declan neared, the overwhelming stench of Cuban cigars filled his lungs.

  Dirk Bennett, a man who had just past his sixtieth year looked up at the intrusion, his gaze taking in his daughter’s wet form.

  “Is it too much to ask, that you respect my privacy?” Dirk scolded his daughter.

  “Why? You obviously don’t mine.”

  Dirk glanced over at him. “I see you’ve met our new houseguest.” He turned his attention to the two expensively dressed businessman who occupied the two visitor chairs on the opposite side of his ebony desk. “If you would excuse me please gentleman. This will take a while.”

  Given no real choice, the two men stood, nodded to Dirk before stalking out of the room. Each threw Bethany a disgusted look at having had to take their leave when they were clearly enjoying themselves.

  Bethany took no notice, not even waiting for the doors to close behind the two men before charging at her father. “Were you even going to tell me before you slinked off?”

  Her father stood, stretching to his full height, just shy of six foot. His sandy blonde hair was expertly cut in the newest style and coloured to look more natural. Hell, even men couldn’t age gracefully these days.

  “Do you think I like the fact that to keep my daughter safe, I have to resort to hiring security for her? Because I sure as hell don’t.” He pulled out a file folder from a drawer in his desk, opened it, and revealed the contents to her. “But the threat is very real.”

  Bethany stepped forward, her bare feet making no sound on the Oriental rug covering the blood-red carpet. Picking up one of the pieces of paper from the file folder, she quietly read.

  Dirk’s voice softened as the blood drained from Bethany’s face. “You see now, this deal is very important and I must continue through with it. Unfortunately, that puts you in danger, so please don’t fight me on this. Be a good girl.”

  Declan’s eyebrow arched. Be a good girl. Surely the man didn’t just say that? His sister, Riley wouldn’t have put up with that condescending remark. Would Bethany Bennett?

  She looked down at the pieces of paper. Had the threats thrown her? They sure as hell did him and he was supposed to be privy to all things case related. This was the first time he was hearing about tangible threats.

  Dirk stepped out from behind his desk which spoke of his power and influence and stood before his much smaller daughter and kissed her cheek. His hands gripped her upper arms, whether it was to shake some sense into her or to keep her still, Declan wasn’t sure. “Mr. O’Neill is the best in the business. He will keep you safe.”

  At Dirk’s declaration, Bethany raised her head and over her father’s shoulder caught his gaze. He could sense the rage bottled up inside her. Declan knew it was only a matter of time before she blew. He also sensed a great sadness in her and a silent plea to do just as her father said he would. He gave her a brief nod in acceptance of the possible dangerous task of protecting her.

  Her shoulders sagged, the fight leaving her. “I won’t fight your decision.”

  Bethany was an interesting case of fire and submission.

  Dirk nodded happily, glad his child saw reason without a fight. “Good. It’s for the best Beth, you know I couldn’t live knowing something bad happened to you.”

  Bethany pulled away and without a backwards glance left the room. Declan appraised Dirk Bennett with new eyes. The businessman was shrewd. A shark. The father, a first-class manipulator who treated his daughter like a client, one who said and did anything for a sale. Declan wasn’t sure he liked the father who allowed his daughter to get mixed up with his dealings and became a head for the chopping block. He especially didn’t like how Dirk handled his daughter but then again maybe the man knew his daughter while Declan didn’t. For all he knew Bethany Bennett was more trouble than she looked.

  But there was something in her eyes that told him she wasn’t happy and with a father like Dirk Bennett, was it any wonder?

&
nbsp; Dirk shook his head sadly as he watched the door close behind Bethany. Douglas immediately began tiding up the desk, replacing the printed threats back into the folder. “If I may have a word with you, Mr. O’Neill about my daughter’s safety.” It wasn’t a question or suggestion.

  Declan’s gaze roamed Dirk’s office. A large dark stained bookcase lined the entire width of the wall to his right, filled with a variety of volumes. Dirk was a reader.

  The room screamed decadence. Declan had a sense that business wasn’t the only thing conducted in this room. This was Dirk Bennett’s sanctuary. No one could discount the man’s success. Yet, Declan knew each man determined what was the most important in their lives, and some, their children were their biggest accomplishments. Did Dirk?

  He held the older man’s gaze. “You never mentioned the letters.”

  Dirk regarded him much like Bethany had those few moments by the pool, as one might prime beef they considered purchasing. His disapproval was met with a chuckle. “Those were for my daughter’s benefit.” Dirk’s demeanour turned serious. The eyes looking back at him now were completely different to ones Dirk had projected to his daughter. “I’m sure you know full well the men I’m talking about don’t send letters.”

  Declan agreed. “No, they send body parts.”

  “So, you can appreciate my concerns for my daughter safety? She is not involved in this, and I won’t have her either. These men have expressed their desire to tear her limb from limb.”

  His employer poured himself a scotch neat and indicated to him. He declined. Dirk threw back the contents with someone at ease with the hard liquor. Did he drink like this often, or simply shaken over the threats?

  “I understand completely, Mr. Bennett.”

  “I’m not an evil man, Declan. I just want what every father wants. I want to protect my daughter.” He obviously sensed Declan’s disapproval in the way he handled Bethany. “From herself. From me. From the people who’d wish her harm. If that means lying to her and keeping her cosseted—I will.”

  “It’s not my place, Mr. Bennett, to advise you either way. I’m here to keep Bethany safe and I will do just that. You have no need to worry. I’ll protect your daughter until your return.”

  Dirk grinned. “I like you, O’Neill. I must say I was somewhat unsure about you at first—you being a cop and all. The Bennetts haven’t always been on the right side of the law but you did come highly recommended by my late wife’s best friend and I’ve never had any reason to doubt Caitlyn before so I took a risk.”

  “You won’t regret it.”

  Chapter 2

  Goodbye freedom. Again.

  Bethany flopped against the back of the bench swing attached to the hundred-year-old gum tree’s sturdy branch. A chill raced down her spine, the sun hidden behind the thick canopy of leaves, occasionally reaching her when a breeze shifted them. Raising her knees, she looped her arms around her legs and allowed the slight rocking to soothe her.

  Why couldn’t her father see she was miserable? More importantly, why couldn’t she stand up to him and fight his decision? It sickened her that all he had to do was appeal to her in the least amount of words and she rolled over like an obedient puppy.

  A bodyguard.

  Wasn’t her life a prison enough?

  To anyone else, her life could be considered a dream. Anyone except her.

  Maybe she didn’t need to worry about O’Neill. This was a big house, surely they wouldn’t spend any time around one another. Protecting her at home didn’t require being in the same room. At least she hoped.

  Above her, a kookaburra took flight with a flutter of its wings and she followed its progress across the carefully cultivated garden, filled with winter-blooming flowers—a mixture of carnations, pepperberries and chrysanthemums—before dropping from her sight as the land gave way to the decline. Staring across the lush Kentucky bluegrass lawn out to the hills in the distance, the fluffy white clouds lazing about in the otherwise flawless blue sky, she tried to forget her worries.

  She was just beginning to relax when a shadow fell on her, blocking out the little sun streaking against her skin. She stared up at one hundred plus kilos of pure undiluted hunk and promptly stopped breathing.

  “Yes, Mr. O’Neill?”

  “Let’s get a few things straight here, okay? I don’t have time for your spoilt heiress shit or daily temper tantrums, and as far as I’m concerned, you can sulk all you want so long as it doesn’t get in the way of my job. Because if you fuck me about, I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Her eyes widened and her gaze dropped to the tan leather holster at his waist beside his large hand.

  “Are we clear, Miss Bennett?”

  She jerked her chin up and met his challenging eyes.

  “Who do you think you are?”

  His lips flattened into a hard line. “The man standing between you and a bullet.”

  “Well, don’t do me any favours.”

  “Don’t expect me to feel sorry for you, Princess.”

  Her body vibrated, practically shaking with her anger. “How dare you? You know nothing about me. I haven’t had a temper tantrum since I was two.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, drawing her attention to the rippling muscles and the bulge of his biceps. Enchanted by his assets, she almost missed his reply.

  “Then what was this morning?”

  Her skin burned at the reminder. “I admit, it wasn’t my finest moment. I will defer to you on matters of my safety, however, don’t presume to order me about.”

  “Are we going to have a problem?”

  “Not at all, Mr. O’Neill. I believe you’ve made yourself quite clear. I promise not to get in the way, in fact.” She stood, almost tripping over his feet when he didn’t step back to make room. She craned her neck to look up at him. “How about I stay the hell away from you? And you can do the same. Because believe me, right now you’re the one in danger.”

  She took a few steps but didn’t get far. Declan caught her arm before she was out of reach, abruptly halting her. He tightened his hold and dragged her back the two steps towards him. She bumped against him. Reaching out to push him away, her palms encountered hard muscles. Her temperature spiked. He was like an unmoveable mountain which only served to annoy her more. Ignoring her racing pulse, she narrowed her eyes. When she spoke, Antarctica would’ve been warmer. “Yes?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “This is not the first time I’ve been threatened and I doubt it will be the last so long as I’m Dirk Bennett’s daughter. I apparently appeal to every fortune hunter and revenge schemer in the world.”

  His head bowed down until he was at her height, a scarce few centimetres from her face. His hot breath fanning across her skin. Goosebumps erupted and her heart vaulted.

  “You’re not to leave the house without my approval.”

  She knew he was looming purposely to put her in her place, to assert his dominance yet that didn’t stop her heart from hammering, or her body tingling.

  Tears burned her eyes and her throat ached. But she refused to allow him to see how much she hurt. How his words affected her.

  “Why don’t you just chain me up too while you’re at it?” Her voice cracked like the driest earth, betraying her tightly held emotions.

  His face remained passive, immobile like a frigging statue though his eyes glittered dangerously. She’d do well to remember his earlier words.

  Something inside her broke. “Fine. Freedom’s overrated anyway.”

  She glanced down at his hand, still holding onto her arm and jerked. She stumbled back as he released her. Insufferable man. He didn’t need to play these stupid games with her, she was already unbalanced by him without him assisting her.

  Without waiting for his next order, she ran towards the house hoping like hell he wasn’t following her. The kitchen door slammed shut behind her. Quinten Davies, the man who was more like her father than her own, glanced up from where his competent h
ands chopped potatoes.

  She fought to suck air into her lungs and she wished she could blame her breathlessness on the run—escape from her infuriating bodyguard. Her hands curled into fists and she thumped them against her thighs. Bodyguard.

  The tears she’d been holding back rolled free and she swiped them away impatiently.

  “He lied. He said no more bodyguards. I can’t take much more of this.”

  She fell into Quinten’s arms and clung to him as she’d done as a child when she’d scrapped her knee falling off her bike. He held her tightly and she breathed in the scent of her dinner roasting in the oven. Usually, that alone would lift her spirits. She loved to cook, but nothing seemed to penetrate the misery she currently drowned in.

  “He had no choice. These men are dangerous.”

  He gave her squeeze, then put her aside and raising the sharp blade again, moved onto the carrots, his hand jack-hammering up and down until he had sliced to the end.

  She imagined her heart in place of the carrot, then shook away her ridiculous, over the top thoughts. Could she be any more ungrateful?

  “And what about the next? Or the ones after that? There will always be men because of who he is.”

  “He only does what he does because he loves you.”

  Sinking onto the stool beneath the overhang of the counter, she pulled a chopping board closer. Quinten handed her a knife and she placed her frustration into cutting the onions. Why not? She was already sniffling.

  Yes, her father loved her but that didn’t change all his faults and he had numerous.

  What had her father been thinking? He may not have noticed how hot her new bodyguard was, but she had. Maybe not the first time. But definitely her second glance. He also was a jerk who seemed to despise her and she felt nervous in his presence.

  The man was sinfully sexy, the type of man she hadn’t realised existed outside Hollywood. Had she been cheated all these years? With what she could only imagine in painful detail was a body that stood over six-feet with pale blond hair and bright deep sea-blue eyes he was temptation in a package.