Her Beast: A Dark Romance (Beauty and the Captor Book 1)

by Nicole Casey

  I pulled the cell away from my ear and stared at it for a long moment, an uncertainty washing through me.

  Am I calling her as a co-worker or as something else? I asked myself and the question sparked a glimmer of worry in my gut.

  I ended the call and slipped the cell back into my pocket, unlocking my Audi.

  How many times had I fantasized about being with Yvette over the past six years? When I had landed the job at Kilpatrick-Campbell, I had not foreseen the attraction I had apparently carried for Yvette since the time we had spent together as undergrads.

  She would never know but she was the reason I had called off my second engagement. I had been unable to get Yvette out of my mind in those early days.

  But I had believed those feelings had been curbed and that I only saw Yve as a friend and associate.

  Suddenly I am calling my lover by her name. You need to get your thoughts in order, I chided myself. You and Yve will never be. You have tried that, and it didn’t work, even before you were both jaded.

  I started the car and sighed, shaking my dark head.

  This Sterling case will be good for you, I told myself. It will keep you away from temptation. Don’t forget; you are exes for a reason. A really good one.

  4

  Yvette

  A cold breeze shifted through the curtains, but I didn’t move, the warmth of Draven’s body surging through me as I lay looking at his sleeping face.

  He’s not just handsome. He’s appealing, I thought and almost laughed aloud at the words.

  I sounded like a cheesy poem in my own head, but it was true; Drave wasn’t simply some pretty college boy. He had a charisma which wasn’t arrogant, an aura whose glow everyone wanted to bask within.

  Including me.

  Sometimes the hold he had on me was troubling as if I was hypnotized by him and it unnerved me.

  Romance had always played second fiddle to my school, my ambition. Sure, I was a red-blooded American woman, but had I ever envisioned that I would be watching my lover sleep while I memorized the regally handsome lines of his face?

  This was something I would envision more from Vyolet.

  He stirred slightly, and I froze, not wanting him to wake.

  I didn’t want to lose the moment of near bliss I was experiencing, not yet.

  He moved slightly beneath the comforter, his shoulder-shrugging off the blanket to expose a well-formed bicep and I exhaled slowly.

  When I was sure he was soundly sleeping, I moved gently away from him although I thought my pounding heart might wake him.

  I have to do this, I told myself firmly. I have weighed out the pros and cons of this. I am doing the right thing.

  I found my discarded clothing on the floor near the bed and quickly got dressed, an eye on his even breathing.

  In the pale light of the moon, I paused to look at him one last time, slipping the small diamond from my ring finger and leaving it on the dresser beside the letter I had spent a painstaking week creating.

  When he woke, I would be on my way to the University of North Carolina for law school while he remained at NYU.

  I tried not to cry as I left the apartment we had shared for two years, swallowing the thick lump in my throat.

  But I couldn’t stop the stream of water building in my eyes from falling down my cheeks as I fled.

  It was for the best. We just weren’t meant to be.

  I don’t know why the memory of such an immature time kept me awake that night. I can only assume that the stress of the situation was the real cause of my insomnia, but Draven was fresh on my mind.

  I had heard his voicemail from Monday night on Tuesday morning. He hadn’t said anything, but I checked the caller and realized he had left the dead air message.

  I was curious to know what he wanted but I had been out with clients all day and didn’t get a chance to talk to him about it.

  By the time I ran into him again on Wednesday, the moment had all but passed and in a small way, I was relieved that he and I had not gotten together.

  Something told me that it would have ended in something we would only regret later.

  Still, it might have been fun, you know, for old time’s sake.

  It had been a long time since I recalled that aspect of my life, thought about the feel of Draven’s hot skin against mine.

  He had always run unseasonably warm but that had worked to my advantage. I always found myself insufferably cold, especially during the frigid New York winters.

  You have been working with him for three years and never crossed a line, not even at a Christmas party. Suddenly your loins are on fire like some horny teenaged girl on prom night, I snapped at myself. Get it together. You and Draven are apart for a reason. There is no reason to open Pandora’s Box and explode that can of worms.

  Grunting at my mixed metaphor, I sat up in my dark master bedroom, wandering to the window sill to peer out toward Pierce Creek.

  My house on Pelican Circle was one of half a dozen, maintaining its quiet prestige but

  Although it was three a.m., I could still the lights from the Sea Harbor Yacht Club in the not so far distance.

  Soon, I told myself. Soon I will have a boat docked there, just like Kilpatrick and Vern Harrison. Senior partner is my next stop and then I will have my name on the door in emblazoned silver just like Kilpatrick and Campbell.

  It was a mantra I played in my mind nightly almost since the day I had passed the bar, albeit not verbatim.

  My first job had been working at the Public Defender’s office in Raleigh, but I knew instantly I was cut out for greater things.

  I had not worked like a mad woman in college to share a cubicle with two other people and be underappreciated my entire life.

  Anyway, criminal law was not where I wanted to be.

  Not that divorce law was much better. In fact, I would be willing to bet that people who divorced often went out afterward and committed some unlawful act, just to assert their lost power.

  I couldn’t imagine the helplessness of being on the wrong end of a good divorce attorney.

  And I will never have to know firsthand, I thought with a smirk.

  But in the back of my mind, a tiny voice called out to me.

  You almost married him. If he had decided to go with you then or you stayed behind, you and Draven would be married right now.

  I scowled at the unsolicited reminder.

  “Married and divorced him,” I retorted to an empty house.

  Maybe I needed to get a cat.

  I spun away from the long, rectangular windows and took a deep breath.

  Running my hair through my new, stylish bob, I willed myself to count sheep or kittens before the tangle of thoughts clogged my brain and I never got to sleep.

  I had a big day in the morning; I was meeting Ryerson Sterling for the first time.

  The circus was about to begin.

  It was raining, adding to my already sodden feel as I rushed to my Mini Cooper and climbed in.

  Overnight, the trees had lost their leaves it seemed, and I knew that winter would soon be upon us, even though Thanksgiving was just around the corner and the first day of the solstice wasn’t until the end of December.

  The first day of the solstice. My God, Maya is rubbing off on me.

  Although I had managed to block out most of what Charlotte had told me on Monday, a slight ache had remained when I realized it had been at least two weeks since I had seen my sisters and a week since I had spoken to them.

  You can pick up a phone and call too, I reminded myself.

  I grunted aloud and focused on the drive, mentally preparing myself for the day ahead.

  I tried to envision what Ryerson Sterling was like.

  Sure, I had seen pictures of him and the odd interview but what did that really tell me?

  All I truly knew was what I saw on paper.

  He was in his sixties, and attractive for an older man.

  People had compared him to Paul
Newman, but I confess, the reference was a little dated for me.

  From the little I recalled, Ryerson was a soft-spoken man but not someone who could ever be mistaken for meek.

  He exuded a confidence which was not easily forgotten as if he knew things which other didn’t.

  I don’t envy Angeline Sterling. Not only is her soon-to-be ex-infallible, he has the better attorney on his side.

  Chuckling, I wasn’t entirely sure that was true but there was no need for Draven to know that I considered him a worthy adversary.

  Traffic made things more difficult through rush hour, but I made it in through the doors of Kilpatrick-Campbell on time as always.

  The first person I saw as I shook off the water from my coat in the doorway was Vern Harrison and he seemed more frazzled than ever.

  It never ceased to amaze me how he had made senior partner and charge of the junior associates.

  To me, he was in a perpetual state of chaos, his shirt wrinkled, tie always slightly askew as if he had simply slept in his clothes, rolled out of bed and started the day without any preparation.

  Albeit, the man closed clients and was a shark in the courtroom I was told.

  Still, he left a lot to be desired from a physical standpoint with his myopic brown eyes and bloodhound face.

  “Good, you’re here,” he said when he rested his bespectacled gaze on me. “Come to the conference room with me.”

  He spun without waiting to see if I was going after him and disappeared down the hallway like a frightened squirrel.

  I nodded and followed, shaking off my trench coat and handing it off to Abby who rose to accept it from me.

  She rolled her eyes slightly as if to display that Vern was overreacting, but it didn’t help my quickly tightening nerves.

  “Is Sterling here already?” I asked the receptionist and to my relief, she shook her head.

  “No,” she replied. “But I think they’re both coming today.”

  My dark brows shot up and I stared at her.

  “Both the Sterlings?” I choked, thinking about how unprepared I was for such a meeting. I hadn’t even scratched the surface of the case. Typically, I wouldn’t delve into it until after I had met the client one-on-one.

  Abby shrugged, and I stifled a groan, my heels clicking on the matte tiles of the lobby as I started into the west hallway toward the third-floor conference room.

  When I opened the door, I was startled to see Draven already sitting at the table with an elegant blonde.

  I didn’t need to be told it was Angeline Sterling although she did not look familiar to me.

  She almost wasn’t real with her hair sprayed blonde hair and pearl combs, sternly formulating a knot precisely at the center of her royal-looking head.

  Her lipstick was blood red and perfect, none of it having bled onto the coffee cup before her.

  She is a pearl cigarette holder and sequined evening gown away from being a sixties starlet, I thought in amazement. Eat your heart out, Grace Kelly.

  Draven glanced up at me and although I didn’t read any expression in his face, I knew him well enough to know that this meeting was as much as a shock to him as it was to me.

  “Angeline Sterling, this is Yvette Viera. She will be counsel for – “Draven started to say but she held up a gloved hand and silence him with a withering green stare.

  “I know who she is,” the socialite growled. “She handled Gerald Fowler’s divorce and his ex-wife barely gets enough a month to pay her horse trainer. I hope the same won’t happen in my case.”

  I swallowed a smile and eyed Draven who recovered quickly with a short laugh.

  “I have no idea who Mrs. Fowler’s attorney was,” he replied. “But I assure you, it wasn’t me.”

  A fusion of appreciation and annoyance fluttered through me.

  I had worked my butt off on that case and it had dragged out for eight months. I was proud that Gerald Fowler was able to keep his hard-earned money against a cheating, heartless and gold digging wife.

  It wouldn’t have mattered who her attorney had been; Amanda Fowler already got more than she was entitled to and that was against my advice.

  But if Drave thinks he can do better by Mrs. Sterling, I hope she has a better history being married to Ryerson than Amanda did being married to Gerald.

  Again I cursed myself for not having read more about them but how was I to know? I felt like I was being ambushed.

  “Sit down, Yvette,” Vern instructed. “We will commence when Ryerson arrives.”

  “This is ridiculous,” Angeline interjected. “I know why you called this meeting Vern and it is pointless, I assure you.”

  “Angeline, I would prefer to wait for Ryerson – “

  “Furthermore,” she continued. “I don’t like being contradicted and second-guessed by the very people whom I am paying to protect my interests. If I wanted to be undermined, I would simply remain married to Rye now, wouldn’t I?”

  Her steely green eyes bored into Vern’s and I watched as he balked somewhat.

  “I assure you, Angeline, that is the last thing we want to do. You and your family have been longstanding clients with Kilpatrick-Campbell – “

  “And I would prefer to keep it as such.”

  Abruptly she rose from her chair and it was only then that I realized I was still standing, almost gawking at her larger than life personality.

  “And as usual, Rye cannot be bothered to honor an appointment where I am involved. You would think he would care more about his money,” Angeline continued, and I found myself listening not to her clipped words but the underlying sadness in her voice.

  She doesn’t want to do this, I realized, my head turning toward Draven to see if he had caught the same thing I had but he wasn’t paying attention to me.

  A bemused expression had formed on his face and I understood that he was suddenly counting the dollar signs involved with the case before us.

  Well, he’s over the conflict of interest issue, I thought, watching as Angeline Sterling strolled toward the door, Vern making way to allow her through.

  “Mrs. Sterling,” Vern pleaded. “Please think about how this will – “

  “Am I late?”

  Ryerson Sterling appeared in the doorway, half-smiling at the room until his cornflower blue eyes rested on his wife where they suddenly became unreadable.

  “Is that rhetorical, Ryerson?” Angeline snapped. “Of course you’re late. You’ve never been on time for anything in your life.”

  I felt myself instantly growing protective of the man.

  After all, he was technically my client unless Vern could convince them otherwise and so far, the senior partner was 0 for 1.

  “Mr. Sterling,” Vern said quickly. “Please come and sit down. I wanted to meet with you both so that you might reevaluate your position about having two attorneys – “

  “Oh for the love of God, Vern. You are beginning to sound like a broken record. The answer is no, we are not backing down. We are both staying with your firm!” Angeline cried, throwing her hands up in disgust. “I do hate repeating myself.”

  “Angeline, you gave up the right to speak for me when you left six months ago,” Ryerson said coldly.

  “Well, I have shut up for far too long, Rye!” Angeline snorted. “And if I want to talk, you misogynistic horse’s ass, I will speak.”

  “Mr. Archer, going forward, I believe that you should have your client direct her comments to me or you, don’t you agree?” I told Draven, but my eyes lingered on the surreal blonde, sensing her ire at my words.

  Angeline’s emerald irises became slits of fury as her gaze raked over my body, but I held her icy stare.

  “I will speak with whomever I wish,” she spat at me. “You will not dictate to me whom I can or cannot speak!”

  I shrugged nonchalantly.

  “As long as you understand that everything you say will go on record toward the proceedings,” I replied evenly. “You may wish to reconsider
what you say as it can be used to our advantage.”

  It was not my first rodeo with an irate spouse. She couldn’t intimidate me, no matter how hard she tried.

  She would do well to heed my friendly advice, I thought with some smugness.

  “This meeting is off the record,” Vern announced, stepping between us and casting me a warning look.

  I smiled sweetly at him and watched as he ushered Angeline from the conference room, shooting me a scathing look over his shoulder.

  Ryerson turned to me and grinned.

  “Ah,” he said happily, extending his hand and pumping my palm heartily. “I see I got the better man despite Angeline’s attempt at trickery. Ryerson Sterling. You must be Yvette Viera. Your reputation precedes you and for someone so young, I must say I am very impressed with your track record, Ms. Viera. I have several friends who sing your praises.”

  My beam broadened, and I returned his enthusiastic handshake.

  “It is a pleasure, sir,” I told him sincerely, barely looking over to where Draven stood. “But please do call me Yve.”

  Draven’s mouth had tightened into a fine line of annoyance and for some reason, it gave me a shiver of excitement.

  “Mr. Archer, this meeting is privileged between us. Would you mind giving us the room?” I chirped.

  He cleared his throat and nodded, lowering his grey eyes quickly as if hoping I didn’t catch his discontent but it was too late.

  “Mr. Archer,” Ryerson called after him and Draven paused.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “May the best man win,” the media mogul said, a hard grin falling on his face.

  Draven studied Ryerson’s face for a long moment before offering a weak smile.

  But when he spoke, he looked at me and his words sent a chill through me.

  “Of course,” he replied. “All’s fair in love in war, right Mr. Sterling?”

  Ryerson chuckled, and Draven turned to leave.

  It was only then that I remembered it was my day to bring coffee and for the first time since we had started our tradition, I had forgotten.