My Billionaire Captor

by Shae Black

  “Oh God, Marcus I’m so sorry, so, so sorry. I didn’t, I wasn’t…” Shit what am I supposed to say now? It’s too late, all the cards are on the table now he either accepts me or not. I won't survive if he doesn’t. “Sorry? What on earth could you be sorry for baby?” he answers opening his misty green watery eyes, the pain there is devastating. “I’m sorry I told you, I thought it would help for you to know. It was a terrible idea and I can’t take those visions out of your mind.”

  Sitting up he gathers me into his lap arranging the blankets so I am completely protected from the chill in the room. “Do not ever apologize for doing something you need to do to make yourself feel assured in our relationship Imani, ever, understand?” I nod and look down into my lap while he smooth’s the curls that have escaped my braid from my face. “I love you more right now than ever, you’re my warrior queen. No woman I’ve ever known has endured what you have and come out on the other side with such courage, strength, grace and beauty, inside and out.”

  It’s my turn to cry now, hot tears spring into my eyes and fall onto his bare arm that he has wrapped around me.

  He’s accepted me, for who I am and all I’ve been through, he’s even called me a warrior queen which I guess in a way I am. I fought like hell and I won the battle against those bastards. “Don’t cry baby, you’ve cried enough. I’m here to protect you now… forever. I will do whatever it takes to keep you from shedding another tear.”

  Well shit, leave it to him to say exactly the right thing at exactly the right moment. “I won’t cry if you won’t.” I say. “All right, agreed.” he says pulling me away from his hard warm body to wipe my tears and then his own with the sheet. I sniffle unattractively and a small understanding smile creeps across his face followed instantly by the wink that always makes my tummy flutter and my heart skip a beat.

  “Sleep now baby, you need to rest and get well so you can set me free from the misery of keeping my hands off of you. I have missed you so much but you are in no condition to be making love.” Making love? He’d always referred to it as fucking, never making love. By some miracle after all I have been through I rather liked being fucked by this man but making love sounds so much more beautiful and permanent. Maybe we can compromise and do a little of both.

  “Ok, I’ll promise to sleep as long as you promise to hurry up and make me strong and fat.” “Oh, baby, that is the easiest promise I will ever keep. So am I forgiven now?” “You were forgiven the second I saw your face. I could never stay mad at you, no matter what you do.” “Scoot.” he commands again and I return to my place and plaster myself to his side. I hike one skinny leg up between both of his solid muscular ones and drape my arm across his abs. His arms surround me while we snuggle down together peacefully for the first time in months.

  A seed of hope takes hold in my heart that maybe just maybe, everything will be all right.

  Chapter 4

  I made it through that first night, barely. Four a.m. arrived accompanied by a nightmare like no other. I should have known they wouldn’t disappear immediately just because Marcus was back in my life. I slip out of bed and gasp when my feet hit the chilly floor. I head to the bathroom to warm up and shower off the cold sweat. What is it with this house anyway? It’s so damn cold in here! With disappointment I recall that there is no shower in the En Suite just a claw foot tub. I wonder if the house has another bathroom. I’d really like to just quickly shower instead of soaking in a tub. Tip toeing back into the bedroom I have no idea why I thought I could get past my mentally connected partner unnoticed, and of course I haven’t.

  “Where are you going?” he asks in a deep, rough, sleepy voice. “I had a bad dream” “And?” “I wanted a shower but there’s only a tub in there. I thought maybe there was another bathroom.” “Why do you need to shower? I thought we had you all cleaned up before bed last night?”

  He rolls over to climb out of bed. When he passes over the damp sheets on my side of the bed he answers his own question. “Do you want some help? I’ll show you to the other bathroom, where are your socks?” he asks looking down at my bare freezing feet. “Socks? I didn’t have any on when I went to sleep.” “I put them on for you.” He says rummaging around in the sheets to find my socks. “I should have given you your meds but you have been drugged so much in the past couple days I thought it would be good to clear your system. Ah, here they are.”

  He holds up a pair of fuzzy, warm lavender socks. Lavender… of course. “I must have kicked them off when I was dreaming. And whose fault is it that I’ve been drugged for so long?” I snip. He pads silently toward me and crouches down at my feet. Tapping one ankle and then the other he slides the warm socks onto my feet while I hold his shoulder for balance. He blatantly ignores my smart comment.

  My God that helps so much. “Why’s this house so cold anyway?” “It is very old, I’ve only done minimal updates and not much remodeling, the fireplaces are the only heat sources.” “I’m surprised you would want to come here, it doesn’t seem much like your style.” He turns me around to point me toward the door of the bedroom. Holding my waist he gently guides me forward.

  “My style eh? What exactly is my style?” “Uh, big for one thing, swanky, elaborate, showy, obnoxious…” he cuts me off placing his hand around my mouth from behind and whispers into my ear. “That is enough.” I can’t help it, I try to hold it back I shouldn't but I giggle into his hand. He continues to guide me down the short hallway of his Aunts house. We turn into a slightly larger bathroom that has both a shower and a tub. It’s still very modest in comparison to Marcus’s usual grandiose style.

  “If you weren’t undernourished and sick I’d spank you for sassing me with that smart mouth of yours.” he says while he reaches into the tub to start the shower. He looks over his shoulder at me with an “I dare ya” look on his face. “If I weren't undernourished and sick I might like it.” I say.

  He returns to the shower testing the water temperature. “In.” he directs, pointing toward the shower and I tore off my socks while wiggling out of the flannel pajama pants and tank top he dressed me in. I haven’t seen any of my own belongings as of yet. Before I can walk to enter the shower I catch my reflection in the mirror above the sink and inhale in shock.

  It’s as if I’m seeing myself for the first time in weeks I look horrible. Marcus realizes what’s happening and moves to escort my paralyzed body to the shower and away from the mirror. “You will be fine baby, we will have you back to your old self in no time.” He tries to comfort me but I am appalled at how disgusting I look and even more so that Marcus has seen me multiple times this way. “And you look beautiful no matter what weight you are.” How the fuck does he do that? I swear he has some sort of ESP abilities. I stand under the spray of hot water and smile to myself, he even remembers I like it nearly scalding.

  I unbraid my wet sweaty hair; it’s gross and sticking to my face after my nightmare. His hand appears through the curtain handing me a bottle of shampoo and I take it gratefully. When his hand disappears he pulls the curtain tight against the wall so no heat will escape. I wash and magically when I’m ready to condition his hand appears with the appropriate product. When I’m done I peek out of the curtain and find Marcus standing there with an enormous fluffy towel. Some things never change. I hesitate to step out, it’s fucking cold out there and I’m now leery of being seen naked. He rolls his eyes knowing exactly what I’m thinking and steps into the shower with me, still clad in only his sexy as hell black briefs.

  He pats my skin dry from head to toe and wraps the towel around me, twice. I begin to turn and step out when he holds one finger up to stop me. He turns me by my shoulders to facing the tiles of the shower and gathers my hair in both hands to squeeze and wring the water from it. His skillful long fingers quickly braid my hair and just when I think we’re finally getting out he spins me back around. Pressing me against the wall he traps me between his arms one hand on either side of my head, palms against the wall. He holds
me captive with his body and his sharp green eyes.

  His gaze moves to my mouth where he pauses for a long time. My pulse is pounding and that familiar whoosh starts in my ears. Moving in slowly his lips gently press against mine, no tongue just a long soft kiss. Holy hell I’ve missed this man’s touch. I try to intensify the kiss but he murmurs “No, no.” He wants to set the pace he wants control. He tortures me with baby kisses on each corner of my mouth just like I remembered, center, just like I remembered and then oh God, down my neck, just like I remembered.

  I can’t help myself and I reach out to touch him, he allows it, twisting my fingers through his hair I pull him closer, he allows this as well. But, when I try to slide my tongue into his mouth he pulls away and scoops me up in his arms and yanks open the shower curtain blasting us with cold air. I shudder from the cold and the sudden halting of intimacy. I wrap my arms around his neck and nuzzle into his chest where it’s warm and smells of his trademark eucalyptus and spearmint body wash. He carries me briskly back to bedroom grabbing a clean pair of purple satin pajamas from a drawer.

  After dressing me he tucks me in on his side of the bed where it’s dry. He’s tucked me in so tightly I think his subconscious must be working overtime he’s still worried that I’ll leave him again. I watch him as he returns to the fire to load several logs onto the dying embers from a pile next to the fireplace. After he stuffs some kindling under the wood to making the flames take hold I can feel the heat from across the room. It’s late and dark, the only light in the room is from the fire. Marcus is majestic standing there with the light playing on his gorgeous chiseled body. I want him, and I can see from the way his cock strains against the material of his briefs that he feels the same way. He squeezes in the bed behind me keeping us on the same side to stay out of my nightmare sweat. He also ignores the fact that he is hard as a rock when he presses against my ass. “We gonna do something about this?” I say nudging against his swelling manhood. “No baby.” I push my bottom lip out but he can’t see it as he’s spooning behind me.

  “Put that lip back in.” Seriously? This is getting insane. “How do you know I’m pouting?” I exclaim and he answers by tightening his hold on me and slipping his leg between mine. I can sense a smile going on back there he knows that drives me crazy but he’s Marcus Castillo, he knows everything. “Sleep.” I’m getting tired of the one word text like answers but I know there is no sense complaining, it’s just his way of simplifying the conversation.

  I sigh and he chuckles, his warm breath puffing against my neck. I lay still and quiet, I’m not going back to sleep it’s almost five a.m. too late for sleeping pills and he’s right, I should try to purge myself of all medications for a while. If I can figure out how to sleep that is. Soon I’m warm from head to toe and I watch a slit of light as it begins to stream through the curtains and across the floor. I listen to his soft breathing and wait patiently for him to wake. Thank God he doesn’t snore. I wonder what day two of this dramatic Italian kidnapping adventure will bring.

  Chapter 5

  So this is your Aunts house? I ask after we have finished lunch the following afternoon. Sitting across from each other at the small kitchen table the fireplace is snapping softly behind me sending a shiver of Goosebumps through my body. “Are you cold? I thought I had you close enough to the fire.” He asks, a frown line deepening between his now constantly concerned eyes. “No, no just thinking…” “About what?” “Your Aunt, you as a little boy, what you went through. Why would you want to come here? Why would you even want to keep this house or return to this town?”

  I lift my eyes when he doesn’t reply and one of the top three reasons I ran out of Marcus’s life stares back at me. Void empty dilated eyes. At that moment, that exact moment in time, panic floods my body and my blood turns to ice. Fucking hell I can’t do this, why did I stay? Why didn’t I fight harder? Why didn’t I run farther? For once in my life I actually want to pass out but of course my cruel mind has chosen this particular moment to remain acutely alert.

  Frozen in my chair I stare at a stranger. Marcus has blacked out before but this time feels different. This time something tells me I should stay still and wait it out. Something is very, very wrong here. Marcus continues to stare blankly through me enveloping me in an eerie silent emptiness. Only a moment ago I was warm and comfortable but now I’m trembling like a delicate flower in a spring storm. His unresponsive gaze is scaring the shit out of me. Slowly, he begins to move, but not in a natural way, not the fluid graceful way that I’ve witnessed since waking in this cottage.

  Slowly, he rises from the table and takes a step toward me and pauses, a spark of recognition passes over his face briefly vanishing as soon as it arrives. My heart is pounding my breath coming in shallow huffs. I break into a cold sweat exactly the way it does during my nightmares. He turns to take small hesitant steps toward the front door. I watch him slowly move through the quaint modest living room. He makes it all the way to the door but with his hand on the doorknob he stops. Something in my mind clicks and I have the overwhelming urge to bolt and I do just that. As fast as I can in my weakened condition I run and slide in my socks on the stone floor.

  “NO!” I hear him roar and moving with superhuman speed he grabs me around the waist and slams me against the wall. I feel the weight of my body leave the floor as his fingers tighten around my throat like a vice. He’s choking me, crushing my larynx and I can’t make a sound while I struggle desperately to escape. Helplessly I dangle inches off the floor kicking my feet clawing at his arms leaving deep bloody gashes from his elbows to his wrists.

  Darkness closes in and strangely the smell of homemade bread invades my senses while numbness tingles through my fingers and toes. Without warning he abruptly releases me and staggers back stumbling over a coffee table. My frail body slithers down the wall and crumples on the floor. I gasp for breath and try to resupply my body with the oxygen it’s been deprived of. Focusing I try to make sense of what the fuck has just happened.

  Stunned Marcus is sprawled on the floor mere feet away from me scanning the room wild eyed and rapidly taking in the situation. I’m not waiting to see what happens next, no way, been there done that. As soon as I’m able I crawl a few feet before using the wall to drag myself up and back to the bedroom slamming and locking the door. Not far enough, not secure enough…the window, I can get out through the window! I throw open the heavy grey curtains only to have my heart plummet almost as far as the drop I would have to make if I attempted to escape this way. Fuck me! I whirl around and do the only thing left to do, I silently scurry across the floor when I hear him coming down the hall. Go, go, go…run, run, run…hide, hide, hide!!

  The bathroom is small but the door is sturdy and it locks, I’m in. Weapons, I need to find something to protect myself with, I’m in full on survival mode now. He’s almost here, I hear him rattling the bedroom door, not pounding or yelling just gently rattling off and on. Desperately searching the cabinets and under the sink for anything sharp I come up empty handed armed with only a can of some sort of aerosol cleaning spray.

  Not enough to keep a man from attacking, not a man of Marcus’s stature, I’m not going through another round of torture. I stare at myself in the huge mirror over the sink and see bruising starting on my neck, finger marks on either side of my throat, petechiae spreading under my eyes and cheeks. He could have killed me, he still can.

  This realization spurs another round of super self-preservation and I grab a hair dryer and smash the mirror into a million pieces. I whip a towel off the bar next to the tub and wrap the largest piece of glass up halfway so I don’t cut myself but I’m able to wield it as an effective weapon. If he makes it through the bedroom door, and then the bathroom door I’ll be ready. Trying and failing miserably to avoid cutting my feet I step into the white tub smearing blood all over the bottom of it. I squat down and wait…and wait…nothing.

  The only sound in the house is my heavy breathing and thumping heart. After
what feels like forever my breath begins to catch with every inhalation as I quietly begin to sob. I try so fucking hard to keep quiet and I don’t even know why. It’s not like he can’t find me, there is only one place for me to go, but why isn’t he trying? Why isn't he breaking down the doors? What the fuck just happened here?!

  I’ve completely worn myself out, with not much reserve to begin with I can hardly keep my eyes open after the adrenalin rush leaves my body drained and exhausted. Being nearly choked to death didn’t help much either. I can’t be sure how long I sit bloody, bruised and exhausted in that tub. It’s been several hours at least when my head starts to nod and my crouching legs are numb under me. I finally sit back on my ass, not the most defensive stance but better to have blood circulation when I need to move.

  The bathroom is dark, earlier the light from the bedroom was visible under the crack of the door. Another indication I know I’ve been here a long time, the sun has set. The house is eerily quiet, the sound of my protesting stomach occasionally reminding me that it is way past dinnertime. Will he ever come looking for me? Is he still here? Why is he doing this to me?

  I turn my head and rest my cheek on top of my knees that are drawn up and loosen my hold on the shard of mirror. Pain floods my hand and I realize I have been gripping it so tight that it cut me, even through the towel. I remember Marcus saying once that pain was not unfamiliar to him and I’m discovering it’s not for me either. It anchors me, forcing body, spirit and mind to stay connected and to work as a team.