ENRAPTURED: A Dark Billionaire Romance (The Devil & His Dove Book 2)

by Jax Hart

  I take the stairs two at a time, barging in her door without knocking. My eyes focus on the oversized bed. It’s messy, unmade, a chaos of sheets and twisted blankets. I smirk. It fits the girl who slept in it. She’s barely tamed. A wild horse fighting capture, twisting and kicking from the rope lassoed around her neck.

  But she’s not fighting now. She’s still. Her back faces me as she stares out the window.

  “I’m not coming. Why would you think I would?” She turns away from the sunset stretching across the sky to face me.

  “To please me?”

  “You are definitely insane. The last thing I want to do is please you.”

  “You please me…just by existing, glykía mou.”

  “Don’t call me that!” She fires back in rapid Greek.

  I pause, nostrils flaring, color slashing both my tight cheekbones. “Theos, you turn me on.”

  “Too bad. Because the last thing you do—is turn me on.”

  “Liar.” He rasps in Greek, cupping my shoulders, bending to slide his lips down my neck to nip my collarbone. My head involuntarily falls to the side, giving him more access. His low chuckle brings me back to my senses as his hands press me closer.

  “So, you’re a skillful lover. So are many men. I’m young, fertile and you awoke desires I never knew I had. Bravo. Thank you. But you’ll never touch me here again,” I point a finger at my own chest, “or here.” I point to my temple. “And without those two places, this is pointless,” I gesture between the two of us.

  “Keep your love. I never wanted it.” His words are a slap in my face.

  “Be downstairs in five minutes, dressed properly or I’ll take every scrap of fabric from this room, making you walk around naked…and collared. Just because it’s not here, doesn’t mean it’s not on.” His finger traces a line around my throat.

  I recoil at his light touch. I’d rather wear a ball gown while eating bugs than let him collar me again.

  “Fine,” I snap. “Leave so I can change.”

  He saunters to the other side of the room, crosses his heels and leans against the tall bed with his arms folded waiting for me to move.

  I walk into the large closet, grabbing the most inappropriate dress I can find. It’s a ball gown, I think. I don’t flick the closet light on as I change, pulling the damn thing over my head.

  “You look ridiculous.”

  “I don’t do dresses,” I mutter, blowing a lock of knotted hair out of my face.

  “Yes. I can see that.” He shrugs, holding out a hand. I walk briskly past him, the satin dress swishing with every step.

  “Utterly, bloody ridiculous.”

  “This whole thing is ridiculous!” I throw my hands up, exasperated.

  “It is isn’t it. Fuck dinner…we could have dessert right here.” He moves next to me.

  My shoulders tense as his finger reaches out to brush down my bare arm. “You hurt me.”

  “I know.”

  “You keep hurting me.”

  “I know.”

  “Will you ever stop?”

  “Probably not.”

  “I wish I never applied for a job on the Oasis.”

  He doesn’t respond but takes me by the elbow guiding me out of the room. When we reach the ornate formal dining room, he pulls out my chair indicating I should sit. Then he takes his seat at the head of the table, which is to my right.

  A man dressed in a formal butler’s uniform enters carrying two piping hot bowls of soup on a silver tray.

  “What is the place, Downton Abbey?”

  Christos frowns not understanding my dry humor. “It’s my mother’s ancestral home. It’s been in her family since the Victorian Age. I grew up here. Well, before my father sent me to boarding school in Scotland.”

  “Is that where you met Alex?”

  He dips his head. “I don’t remember telling you that.”

  “You didn’t.”

  He picks up his spoon but waits for me to explain. “I looked you up on the internet. One article mentioned you and Alex went to school together…”

  His face darkens, my face heats. Great. Just when I thought I might be able to keep the sane Christos from hurting me, I had to remind him about the internet and the day he found me emailing his records mistakenly believing I was feeding the social media paparazzi information about his personal life.

  “Alex is…well, Alex. He has extreme tastes…isn’t always a good man. But then again, neither am I. He was abused. His father beat him. When we met at school…the other boys sensed his weakness, that he had different sexual tastes. But he was the only one who talked to me. He went missing one day. Never showed up for class. I found him curled up in a ball under a canoe. They beat the shit out of him. Both his eyes were swollen shut. He was fourteen. He couldn’t see and screamed thinking I was one of the boys that beat him. I carried him inside to the infirmary. Slept in a cot next to his making sure no one but the doctor came near him. He had two broken ribs, a broken nose and PTSD. Don’t mistake me for having any feelings about it. It was pure instinct. I made sure he physically healed. But he’s saved me as much as I saved him. Alex was the first person I told my secret to. At that point only my mother guessed I was different. Alex listened as I poured out everything. When I was done, he sat up, still blind with his eyes swollen shut and told me I’d be okay. That he’d help me survive. And he did. He taught me how to fake my way through life, smile for the cameras, laugh at jokes and fool the world. I’m loyal to him for life, no matter who he is. I accept him, just as he accepted me all those years ago.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Because, little one…no one made me want to try. I just accepted who I was. But you—you made me want to try to actually live instead of just pretending to live. But as you know, I couldn’t process the emotions that ripped through me. It’s safer for you if I let them go. But I can’t ever let you go, knowing you have the power to rip me apart.”

  “That makes no sense Christos. Keeping me here will rip you apart. Set me free, pretend I don’t exist…drop me off in Siberia. Let me go. Setting me free will release you. You’ll see.”

  “No agápe. The thought of you loving another man…being with another man—getting married, having a family—enraged me. If I can’t have that with you, no one will. You can’t meet anyone else to fall in love with living inside my tower.”

  “Are you serious? I’m barely twenty-three. Are you saying you are denying me the chance to have a normal life out of spite? That you plan to keep me here, aging, year after year until I die?”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m saying. But we’ll age together, little dove. You’ll have me.”

  “I don’t want you. I want my life back.”

  “I’ll give you anything but that.”

  “There’s nothing more to discuss. And don’t you dare think—I’ll spread my legs for you. I’m not your whore…your consort or anything but a woman who’s being kept against her will.” I push back my chair, throw down my napkin and bolt from the table. I yank the French doors open, walking out into the cold fall night. He has the sense not to follow me. A twig snaps causing me to turn around, holding my hands out defensively. My fists clench. I can see him, sitting at the table. Eating his dinner without a care in the world. So calm. So, collected.

  It’s dark out here. So dark the sky’s littered with stars, as many stars as you can see from the bow of boat out on the ocean. The wind picks up, either I’m delusional or it carries the smell of salt and the sea. We must be close. If that’s true, maybe there’s a chance I can escape his latest prison. I keep walking into the night, hearing the sounds of animals all around me. Crickets, hooting owls, howling wolves… I walk towards the sounds, dressed for a ball. It’s surreal. Everything is since the moment my foot stepped off the dock that day in Capri and I boarded the Oasis. Christos doesn’t live in the real world. He never did. But now I’m trapped in his demented fairy tale. I laugh out loud to the full moon. H
ow fitting I’m his muse. I’m a far cry from a perfect princess with my gap teeth, knotted hair and tomboy frame.

  For once, I wish I was beautiful. Maybe then he wouldn’t have looked twice at me. I’d be living my life or at least figuring out what to do with it.

  The lights from his cold castle fade in the distance as I walk further into the forest. Streams rush over rocks; thick ferns brush against my gown. Being outside in nature helps lift the oppressive aura choking my heart.

  “I wouldn’t go any further miss.”

  I twirl around, at the man leaning against a tree with an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. A long gun hangs from his shoulder.

  “There’s a pack of wolves that roam these woods. They’re protected in the national park but if they cross onto Mr. Devillo’s land I have permission to shoot.”

  I shudder. Christos is El Diablo, but he never made my skin crawl the way this man does.

  “Who are you?”

  He doesn’t reply, but slips back into the shadows, disappearing. I linger a bit longer, but my feet are two blocks of ice. I had no idea my night would end up in the middle of the woods when I put on the silk ballerina slippers.

  The house is silent when I slip back inside. But I know he’s watching. He’s always watching me. I slip off the ruined shoes, holding them in one hand as I walk up the spiraled staircase to my room. I breathe a sigh of relief that he’s not in it. I’m not sure how much longer he’ll wait. I remember the things he said…how he touched me when we were on the plane. He wants me. Burns for my body…the same way mine does for him. But my body and mind have severed. One wants nothing to do with him while the other just wants to be under him.

  I sigh, holding my hands to the crackling fire someone lit in the fireplace on the opposite wall from my bed.

  What a pretty hell I’ve landed in.

  CHRISTOS

  THE SKY IN ENGLAND is a steady gray. It’s a reflection of me. I’m on the precipice, living in the gray between the light I briefly felt and the dark pit I’m about to fall back in. My hands rest in the pocket of my favorite Armani slacks. I haven’t been back to this house in years, preferring my flat in London to this English Tutor-styled house on a hundred acres of fields and forests bordering England’s treasured Exmoor National Park. But I wanted to feel close to my mother, before I’m completely shut off.

  Afterall, it was her lifelong dream for me to feel what I did. I owed it to her. Or maybe part of me wanted to bring Jessie here, to the house owned by my late mother.

  I know Jessie better than she thinks I do.

  She needs to feel free, even when she isn’t. She knows the doors are all unlocked; the fields are hers to wander…but the tiny device inserted under her skin assures me, I’ll always know where my dove has wondered.

  She fucking hates me.

  But underneath everything I did to tear us apart, the fabric of what we had…what we are is still tightly woven. For better or worse, our fates are sealed together.

  She’ll accept this.

  Eventually.

  Until then, she’ll eat and sleep. Get her strength back. Nothing turns me on more than when my little dove turns into a firebird, spitting sparks at me until we both combust.

  My thoughts are interrupted by my cell pinging across the room from where it sits on my father’s antique desk.

  “Did you get your dove?”

  “I did. Do you still have your balls?”

  “Barely. Helena…. she’s blowing my damn mind.”

  “Theos, Alex.”

  “She’s a bloody dominatrix. I thought she was a cold fish, but bloody hell the woman has more stamina than me. Who knew she had such a tight body underneath the staunch black clothes I always saw her in? I’ll send you pics.”

  “Please don’t.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, closing my eyes.

  “Gotta go, mate. She wants me in the playroom.”

  “Christ, what have we come to? I lost my heart as soon as I found it and your wife has you by the balls.”

  “Times are changing, old friend.”

  “That they are. I don’t like it. I’m going back into the dark. I feel whatever feelings I had slipping…”

  “Alex!” Helena’s shrill command pierces my ear through the speaker.

  “Bloody hell, she has the whip out. Go easy on Jessie. Your bird is a fragile one.”

  “There’s nothing fragile about her.”

  “You’re wrong. Her heart is. But you never had one so how could you know what you did with Fiona would impact hers.”

  “I knew.” I mutter, eyes looking down at the tips of my two thousand-dollar shoes.

  “Alex!” Helena’s shrill voice is so sharp, it’s a blade to my temples.

  “Christ, she’s not playing. I need to go. We’re having a small house party when we get back from the Maldives. Be there and bring Jessie.”

  My eyes turn back to the bank of windows. For a split-second, shame flits through me, but I vanquish it. Just like I do everything else. I no longer question my strange obsession with the American girl resting in my bed upstairs. I just know that I need her. Her body raised me to heights of pleasure that I never felt before and I’m not letting that go. Her sweet body gives me the only thing I can feel—the ecstasy of release that makes me pass out it’s so good.

  With her back in my clutches, I’m able to focus. No longer hampered by the emotions swirling around my head and heart—I sit at the desk, open my laptop, place my reading glasses on and grin. Whose world am I going to tear apart next? From the portfolio on the screen, the winner is: Grant Lawson. Heir to an oil empire from Texas. He loves to gamble, drink and womanize. Theos, these men are all the same. Letting their money make them weak. Well, Grant Lawson, you are about to meet El Diablo. He’s back and more ruthless than ever.

  My hand reaches for the desk phone. “Jin. Go to America. I’m emailing your next assignment. Destroy him.”

  I hired a former Bosnian soldier to patrol the estate. He’s a ruthless, trained killer. But he knows not to dare touch her or cross me. He reported to me that he warned her of the dangers lurking in the woods. Dangers that make me the safer choice. She joins me every night for dinner but sits in silence. Barely looks at me, eats food bursting with flavor like a robot. None of this is going how I imagined. I underestimated her stubbornness. She won’t forgive me for hate fucking Fiona.

  But I only ended up fucking myself.

  My hands rake through my hair, I blow out a breath hissing through my teeth, still remembering the feel of her moving beneath me in the dark. If I don’t get that back soon. I just might kill someone. Andre and Dimitri are still at the top of my list.

  “Sir? The children will be here in twenty minutes. Do you want me to lock her up?”

  “No. I’ll do it.” I shake my head at Mrs. Fritz. She enjoys inflicting pain on Jessie far too much. I’d get rid of her if I could. But she’s my former nanny and knows far too much. I tap my phone using the tracker to see where my dove flew. She’s in the gardens.

  Silently, I make my way to her. She’s sitting on a bench with a book in one hand and an apple in the other.

  She’s engrossed in what she’s reading, never noticing how my eyes shut, my hands fist, and how I sway on my feet as I bend down with my nose brushing against her silken hair. I’m instantly hard, my throat burns. My body needs hers to survive now. But she won’t give it to me and I refuse to lose control. My lips press against the side of her neck seconds after my shaking hands move her thick golden hair out of the way. She tenses. Freezing me out but her nipples harden giving me hope. “Good morning. I trust you slept well?”

  Her face heats. She never calls me out on what I do. Both of us pretending my late-night visits to her room never happen. She tricks herself into believing she just dreams it. I come in the dark and leave before light even flipping the pillow over to erase the indentation of my head.

  She ignores me, turning the page.

  “Ah, Homer’s the O
dyssey. Your taste in books are improving, eh?”

  She snaps the hardcover book shut. Still refusing to speak. I walk around the bench sitting next to her. She moves to the opposite end.

  But I never could resist chasing her. I scoot down. Our thighs press together. The birds chirp. Dew still clings to flowers trying not to die.

  “This is my favorite time of day. It’s quiet. Orderly.”

  She bites her lip. “I’ve been here a month. People must be worried.”

  “They’re not.”

  “I miss home.”

  “That’s your fault. You shouldn’t have left.”

  “Asshole.”

  “Pouter.”

  “That’s not even a real word.”

  “It is. But being a college drop out…I can hardly hold your lack of knowledge against you.”

  “Ooh!” She springs up mad as a hornet. Watching her get worked up so easily gives me a sort of sick satisfaction.

  “Come on. I have important things to do today.” I make a point of staring at my Rolex watch before standing.

  “Good. Go do them and leave me alone.”

  Ignoring her, I simply walk forward put my hands at her waist and haul her over my shoulder. She beats the book against my back as I carry her back into the house.

  I take her to a wing she’s never been in, up three flights of windy stairs to a small storage room in the attic. “You’ll need to stay up here today. Mrs. Fitz will be up with some tea and food. Be good.” I pat her butt then pat her head as you would a dog when I place her on her feet.

  Her eyes spit sparks.

  Fuck I’m hard.

  Tormenting Jessie does that to me.

  “There’s no bathroom.”

  “I’ll bring a bucket.” Our eyes never leave one another’s face.

  I stalk forward. She backs up against the small window. I press my hands against the dormered ceiling caging her in. I let my hips shift closer, letting her feel me. I tell her with my eyes I won’t wait much longer. Then I grab her face kissing her hard using my lips and teeth to part her lips. I moan when I succeed, sweeping my tongue into her mouth taking control. She fights it at first but even she knows our passion is too strong to be denied. Her hands punch against my chest but her tongue twines with mine. She’s just as enraptured with me as I am with her. But she’ll deny it until her last breath. The sound of a rickety bus rolling over the gravel has me reluctantly lifting my head. “Until tonight,” I breathe against her swollen lips.