I opened a cabinet, pulled out a glass, and accidentally dropped it, grimacing as I watched it shatter across the floor. I knew enough to remain still; barefoot feet did not belong on splattered shards of glass, so I thought for a moment.
I placed my palms on the counter behind me and, as I lifted myself up to a seated position on it, shook off the tops of each foot to remove any shards they might have on them. Then I twisted around and stood on the cool marble before I jumped to the island. Once there I lowered myself to the floor on the other side, beyond the blast radius of the broken glass.
Then I went to what I assumed was the broom closet and made two light taps to my band to activate it.
When it opened, I looked inside and gasped.
Chapter 24
I reached out to touch the carvings, which made my heart catch.
“What’s going on?” Tim said, startling me. I turned to see him rubbing his eyes as he walked in.
“Here, come, look at this,” I whispered.
He came around behind me, blearily peered over my shoulder, as his hands gravitated to my body, and pulled me back against him.
There, on the inside of the dark wooden door, were the etched words, “We were here.” Beneath them were dozens of tiny stick figures, scratched into the wood, likely with a kitchen knife.
The first two, now rubbed almost flat, from endless hands touching them, were both men.
The next, a solo female, followed by singles and pairs all the way down one column, after the other. Maybe six columns in all.
I knelt, pointing, “Look.”
After the crude early ones, came more elaborate designs. All stick figures still, but some with hair, high heels, big lips; another curvier than others, some with simple designs on their dresses. All of them wanting, in some small, broom-closet way, to be seen. To acknowledge that no matter how lonely the path behind or ahead, they were in fact not alone.
Their lives, without the comfort of loved ones, still mattered.
My eyes felt moist as Tim reached down and kissed my shoulder before stroking my hair. Then he began to turn, but I pressed for him to stay. A moment later I rose. From the closet, I grabbed a broom, wiped away a tear, then swept a path, making my way back to the drawers by the fridge.
Once there, I reached in the middle drawer and extracted a sharp knife, turned and brought it back to where Tim waited.
He took it, smiled, and nodded, before bending over to the next available spot and began carving us into existence with our new “family.” We were here, too.
“Be sure to add your glasses,” I said as I smiled.
Chapter 25
Over breakfast the next morning I grinned, at my once-again, completely altered, much less appealing man. Then I took a bite of my toast, before saying, mouth still full, “C’mon already! Open it! I’m dying to know where they are sending us first!!” I pounded on the table for eager emphasis.
Tim grinned, showcasing the one tooth that jutted out a bit, making me roll my eyes, shake my head, and laugh.
He reached for the neon green envelope that had been waiting for us in the house when we arrived, indicating we could not open it until 0600 today.
He tapped one end to ensure the paper inside was flush with the bottom, and then tore the upper edge cleanly off.
He blew into the opening, turned the envelope on its side and then tipped it fully downward, so that the paper inside fell out on the table.
I quickly scrambled to grab it, making Tim chuckle, and flashed excited eyes at him before opening it.
I looked at the paper, blinked a few times, and then slowly closed it, expressionless. I then lifted my butt and daintily sat on it.
“What!” He laughed. “What did it say!”
I shrugged, looked away, and took another bite of my toast, casually, ignoring him completely.
“Oh no you don’t!” He laughed as he lunged toward me, targeting my face for a steamy kiss, making me squeal and pull away playfully. I moved to dodge him, which showed his play as he reached for my ass, tricking me into revealing the letter. I overreacted to his move, laughing, when trying to turn back, to prevent him from taking it.
In the playful tussle that ensued we both ended up on the floor giggling.
Finally, his arms longer than mine, he grabbed the paper but held it high above the two of us, out of her reach. His other hand shoved me down toward his lap, playfully insinuating I should focus there, while he tried to open the letter he was holding.
“I am NOT going down on you like that! You- you-” I could not help but giggle as I struggled.
The page bore only one word:
SINGAPORE.
The Catacombs III
An Obsessed Billionaire Romance Series
(Book 4)
By
Camille Alexander
Copyright © 2020
Introduction
In this fourth installment of the Obsessed Billionaire series, our smart, hot billionaire hero and stunningly beautiful young heiress – who have had to go underground to escape her father, the king of a wealthy nation – travel to destinations unknown to hide from those that would kill him to rescue her.
Some men treat women as property, and Perri is no exception. But she will not go along quietly with any man’s idea of what is right for her. She will make her own choices and live the life she wants; rules be damned.
How far would you go to avoid capture, rebelling against a father you love?
How far would you go to protect a woman against her controlling father, who was once your close friend?
Perri and Michael tried to stay safe by adding extra security. When that didn’t work, they were forced to take more extreme measures until they find a way to resolve things with her unreasonable father.
Entering the Catacombs is no small feat, even for the wealthy.
You give up all your connections and comforts, you assume new identities, and you live in ways that are decidedly not luxurious.
In the last book we learned how to enter the Catacombs, and all about its rules and processes, while also seeing Perri and Michael’s connection and romance begin to blossom.
Now, in this book, we see all that was merely the lull before the storm. Emotional intensity becomes replaced by physical danger, from all sides.
We finally get to see why the king, Perri’s father, is so enraged by her defiance, and why he is unwilling to work through this complex situation with Michael, his friend and Perri’s paramour.
Will living without opulent surroundings and comfort create discord?
Will the danger rip them apart – or make them stronger?
Will they ever fully consummate their love – and break the maidenhead she had tried to auction and he had purchased?
Will the feelings they developed for each other be enough to help them face and navigate all the controversy they face?
Action, Heat. Danger. Love.
Take a chance on The Catacombs III. You will not be sorry!
Chapter 1
We had watched the port cranes loading and unloading the cargo ship we had booked passage on for a long while before it was time to board. It had been fun, as we had wondered and teasingly speculated what might be inside the containers. Bananas. Leather goods. Kinky toys for a very conservative and wealthy Asian businessman who had a massive red-room dungeon in his palace.
Jason, one of the crewmen, had given us guidance and rules as he led us onboard the industrial beast and I wondered how Abda would deal with the conditions on board, given her experiences with luxury and her absence of “roughing” it. I wanted to know that she could make it, but I wasn't sure she realized how difficult harsh conditions could be – nor how much fun.
She looked uncertain and stressed.
The first set of instructions had been easy:
No asking about what was in containers: that's private property and owned by the individuals of the containers.
No expectations of engagemen
t with the crew unless they were off duty. This is a working vessel and work comes first.
No running on deck anywhere. (This had elicited a sharp glance from Abda, who liked to jog in the mornings.)
We had to review our passenger safety guide located inside our suite. The word “suite” had made Abda’s ears perk up, and I chuckled to myself. We would be the only passengers for the first three legs of the lengthy journey, traveling from Venice to Singapore. But, because it would take approximately two weeks to get there, it was likely we would pick up others.
The ship had no stabilizers. So, unlike cruise ships, we would need to expect constant rolling with the waves. This made me concerned.
There would be no accommodations for special diets. We were instructed that whatever was served was the meal, in part or in whole, and we ate what was offered or we could purchase and subsist off snacks. There would also be no visits allowed to the galley between serving times, so no sneaking food or accessing food stores.
There would be a Slip Chest on this vessel, which would be available during special hours whereby passengers and crew could buy cigarettes, beer, and toiletries etc. The Slip Chest only accepted USD cash, so no credit cards or other forms of currency were allowed.
Finally, our cabin would be cleaned once a day, and we would have access to a washer and dryer if we needed it.
His spiel complete, he then showed us to our rooms. Apparently, we were allotted an en suite. That meant two rooms with a full bath, although there was no bathtub, just a stand-up shower. Still, it was spacious.
It had windows on two of the walls. When I opened the curtains, I laughed because we had a perfect view of four stories of the 8,500 cargo containers that the ship was transporting, not counting a collection of Taiwanese fire trucks and a twin-engine airplane. Absolutely no water views.
He left us to it and I made a beeline to the safety instruction guide, which Abda pulled out of my hands after checking out the bathroom. She threw herself on the bed and I went to look out the windows as she read small excerpts to me.
I noticed that Abda was wearing her sea-band, which was a wristband that exerted pressure on her wrist to alleviate the effects of nausea, but I had anti-nausea meds just in case.
Chapter 2
“Did you know that if the ship is going down, we have to don an immersion suit?” she asked with false seriousness.
I looked over at her and then realized that midway between us on the counter were two folded scuba suit-looking thingies that were likely the suits she was talking about.
I walked over to them and said, “This looks like it sees.” I laughed.
Abda stood up and walked over to the suits, pulled one up to look at it closer, and laughed, before shaking it out and examining it further. It was one of the most ridiculous looking things that we had ever seen, and only vaguely resembled a single-piece scuba diving suit, but it had two fingers and a thumb, not space for five fingers on each hand.
It was one full piece that you stepped into from a hole in the center of the back, then pulled over your hips and arms, and then pulled over your head before closing it in the back.
Holding it up, unfolded, she laughed and decided to try it on. I went over to one of the lounge chairs and kicked my feet out as I leaned back not able to resist watching the show I sensed was coming.
She shimmied out of her clothes, down to her underwear, then stepped into the suit and pulled it on over her head. And wouldn’t you know it, she sure enough looked just like a giant Gumby.
I couldn't help but laugh.
I said, “If it had better access holes that would be a great bondage device.” She glared at me, not humored, and then we both laughed.
I decided I wanted to go exploring, and she wanted to go with me, so she wiggled out of her contraption and back into her clothes before we headed out.
The library was surprisingly well stocked with both DVDs and books, though hardly any of them were in English. The ship’s crew we discovered were comprised of 33 people, among them Germans, Russians, and Kiribati. Neither of us had heard of a country called Kiribati before, pronounced “Kiri-bass,” but apparently it was in Micronesia, situated in the Central Pacific Ocean near the equator.
They had a population of just over 100,000 people and were similar to Tahiti or Hawaii, in that its land mass was comprised mostly of atolls. Though that was where the similarities stopped it seemed; most of its people were interrelated and lived in very exposed, rough conditions, and experienced some of the most extreme poverty in the world.
The Kiribati people had just 310 square miles of land scattered over 32 atolls and one coral raised island – spread out across almost a million and a half square miles of ocean, which was pretty extensive for such a small amount of space. Who knew? Crew members from Kiribati considered themselves lottery winners to have secured employment anywhere.
They were definitely the kindest men on the ship, and, despite the lack of English, patched together words that made certain we knew how valued we were by them and how willing they were to help if we needed anything. People were their culture’s only valued commodity, and racing hand hewn boats their only pastime. This made them excellent competitors for the small games onboard.
Chapter 3
The next 24 hours we lingered onboard, waiting to ship off from shore. But we soon discovered that the departure dates and arrivals for cargo ships were considered "on or about." There could never be an exact date of arrival or departure because there were so many last-minute changes to the manifest schedule from all too often uncontrolled factors. Things such as additions to the cargo, malfunctions that need to be resolved, weather complications that could create delays, and either some last minute cargo arriving that needed to be transferred onto the ship or the ship itself being delayed during its loading and unloading phases.
Some things on the cargo were refrigerated, such as exotic meats from Australia, including kangaroo, considered delicacies in other countries. So, care had to be taken with those items to preserve the contents.
Other items like light plastics were sensitive to heat temperatures, which meant they too were often refrigerated to help preserve the quality of their product shelf life.
We had been told that we were allowed at any time on the bridge and could visit with the captain there, and that each meal would be taken in the captain's mass, though not at the captain’s table unless by explicit invitation. The only exception to these meals was that there would be special locations and times where the crew might host an on-deck barbecue.
As ugly as the quarters were, I was excited about getting out and exploring the ship. The passenger lounge left a lot to be desired, but I focused on the fact that I was with Tim and we were headed to Singapore, which was one of the places I had always wanted to visit.
We decided to head up to meet the captain who had corresponded with us, prior to setting sail, using entirely ALL CAPS, so we anticipated that he would be quite the character or too old to know how to use email like normal people.
Our vessel was named La Traviata Senate GCM, which, loosely translated, meant “the fallen woman” or “the woman who went astray” followed by Senate and GCM, indicating she was controlled by committee of the international GCM franchise.
While it was clever and intriguing, it did nothing to allay my safety fears. I was a woman who had gone astray, fallen from my father’s favor, and a senate of men who wished to control me.
Combine that with the name Abda, that the Catacomb officers had assigned to me, which meant “servant” or “slave” in many languages, did just the opposite of making me feel empowered and safe.
We went up to the bridge. Meeting the captain, who wore shorts and ankle socks with his running shoes, was nothing spectacular, but when he let the crew show me how some of the instrumentation worked my eyes went wide and my energy perked for the first time in days.
The sun was just beginning to set and the view off the bow was priceless. The captain
invited us to his table for dinner, which sounded fine, but the usual melancholy I felt of late returned and my mood once again soured.
There was just such an absence of comfort everywhere. I didn't know how they could stand it. The heat was inadequate when it was needed at night, the wind often flayed the skin from your bones when on the deck at night for a romantic stroll, there were no upholstered or cushioned seats anywhere, there was no space in the bathrooms – either overhead or on the sides of where you stood or sat. The passageway ceilings were low overhead with most of their walls littered with pipes for plumbing and electricity requiring care not to burn yourself, the gangways as they were called were incredibly steep, and the internal stairwells were painfully tight.
There was also only one stationary bike which they considered the "gym," and the "swimming pool" was a small square with water up to your chest. It had a ring of thick metal bars around it right at the edge that went up to your chest as well, so there was no sitting on the sides and dangling your feet in, and there were no swimming laps. It was just basically a place to get wet.
The only hope I saw for entertainment was table tennis, with orphaned paddles that neither matched nor had all their tread, and an ancient chess board with bottle caps for its missing pieces.
Once we had set sail the ship listed forward and back quite heavily causing paintings on the walls in our room to sway in synchronicity with the water in our glasses.
The worst part of the entire experience though was that not one single man looked at me.
I did not need them looking at me with any kind of interest or appreciation. I did not need the hassle of defending myself on a foreign vessel teeming with randy men and only one protector, without a security team in place, or to be the sole figure of unwanted attention. But the only thing that did get attention was the menu card the French chef created every night.
The Obsessed Billionaire: Boxed Set (Complete Vols. 1-5, A Billionaire Romance Series) Page 11
