Billionaire’s Captive: A Beauty and the Rose Box Set

by Black, Stasia

  Admiring her beauty is one thing, but she’s still way too young. Too naïve for the shit I’m into, especially lately.

  You don’t tie nice girls like her up and spank them.

  My balls tighten at the image that flashes through my head but I’m not a jackass, so I force it away.

  She barely has any friends. That’s all I’m being.

  She grabs her purse and then we’re walking together towards the elevator. The silence feels heavy as we ride up to the first floor. She glances my way and her cheeks turn rosy. What’s she thinking about? Is she hoping I’ll grab hold of her and kiss her like they’re always doing on those soapy doctor dramas on TV?

  The thought makes me smirk and she immediately looks away, her cheeks going even pinker. So, so innocent. Which makes something in my chest hurt because it’s a rarity.

  The ping of the elevator arriving at the first floor startles both of us. She laughs self-consciously and then hurries off.

  We settle in at a sandwich shop across the street from the lab. “How’s your mom doing?” I ask after we’ve ordered and sat down.

  “She’s doing okay.” Daphne nods enthusiastically. “I’m really hopeful about the new rounds of treatment you, Dad, and Adam have been working on. I spent the morning with her and she was sitting up and we did the crossword. Well, we managed half of it before she got too tired, but I feel like it’s progress.” She bites her lip but keeps nodding, like she’s trying to convince herself more than me.

  I can’t help reaching across the table and taking her hand. “Daph, it’s me. You don’t have to bullshit with me. I know everyone else asking you always wants to hear that she’s doing better, but I know her condition. You don’t have to put a pretty spin on shit for me.”

  She looks a little surprised, maybe because I cursed in front of her, but then she nods, and finally she doesn’t look like a bobblehead. “Yeah,” she breathes out, her chest deflating a little. “It’s still really hard, actually. I mean, this morning was better than most, but it’s still…”

  She looks out the window and tears film over her eyes. She immediately blinks them away, then drops her head like she was embarrassed for me to see.

  Fuck, who taught her she had to be like this? I can’t stand to watch it so I scoot my chair around the table and nudge her chin up with my hand. “Hey, Champ, you know it’s okay to be sad, right?”

  She glares at me and jerks back. “I’m not a child.”

  “Oh believe me, I know,” I mutter darkly.

  Her breath hitches. “What does that mean?”

  The waitress comes by and delivers our food. “Nothing. Eat your sandwich.”

  Daphne’s still frowning at me, but again, does as she’s told. She only takes a tiny, nibbling bite, though.

  “Woman, you aren’t a bird. Take a full bite.”

  She finishes chewing and lifts an eyebrow at me. “So you’ve noticed I’m a woman now?”

  “I don’t know, Champ, you’ve only been one for what?” I look at my wrist and a nonexistent watch, “About three minutes?”

  She throws her napkin at me. “Try three months.”

  I shrug. “Pot-a-to, pot-ah-to.”

  She mock glares at me but does take larger bites of her sandwich, though she only finishes half of it before abandoning it on her plate. In the same amount of time, I’ve devoured my entire sandwich and bag of chips, along with most of my soda. I learned early not to waste food when it was put in front of me.

  When I look up from inhaling my food, I find Daphne observing me, her brow slightly scrunched. I swipe at my mouth with a napkin.

  “What?” Shit, she’s probably used to more manners. Adam fucking Archer probably eats sandwiches with a silver-plated knife and fork.

  “Nothing, I just wonder about you sometimes. Where do you come from? What’s your life like when you aren’t at the lab? You’re kind of a mystery, Logan Wulfe.”

  I choke a little on my sip of soda. The thought of innocent Daphne knowing about my activities outside of the lab is enough to almost have me doing a spit-take.

  I haven’t been with a woman for a few months…not since I saw Daphne at the ball now that I think about it, but still. Just because I haven’t had time for it doesn’t mean my proclivities aren’t a very real part of who I am.

  I just shrug but she’s not about to let it go. “For real, Logan. I want to know more about you. Like, where did you grow up? You never talk about your family.”

  I shrug again. “It’s cause I don’t have any. Dad was a deadbeat. Walked out on my mom when I was too young to remember. We were poor as f— We were poor. My mom tried for as long as she could but…”

  I look up into Daphne’s compassionate amber eyes. “She wasn’t like you. She never had your kind of strength. The world was too much for her. She could barely take care of herself, much less me. So I mostly raised myself till she decided to check out.”

  I can tell by the confusion in her eyes she’s not translating my euphemism. “She committed suicide.”

  Daphne’s hand shoots across the table and grabs mine. “How old were you?” she whispers.

  I shrug but don’t pull my hand away from hers. I don’t know why. I’d pull away from anybody else. Maybe, I don’t know, maybe it’s because Daphne didn’t have much of a childhood either. Her parents were just selfish in different ways, her dad at least, and her mom too sick to take care of her. As far as I can see, she raised herself as much as I did—she just did a fucking better job of it than me.

  “I was twelve.”

  “Logan.”

  “Look, it’s no big deal.” I try to pull my hand away now but she just clenches tighter.

  “Somebody wise once told me it’s okay to be sad.”

  “Oh yeah? Sounds like a real wise ass.”

  “He has his moments.” She smiles at me and it’s so genuine and from her heart it hits me straight in my gut.

  Where have you been my whole life? What I say out loud is, though, “Wanna go grab dessert from that little pastry place on 4th street?”

  She beams at me. “I’d love to.”

  When we stand up, she’s still holding my hand.

  Eight

  Present Day

  Logan

  The cameras pick up the approach of Daphne’s taxi two hundred feet from the gates of the castle. I press the button to open them and sit with my fingers loosely threaded together as the car creeps up the long drive. My heart jolts when I catch a glimpse of Daphne’s dark head. I hate myself for missing her, but I did. This girl has always been under my skin, in my blood.

  I spin in my chair away from the cameras, rising and stretching with eyes closed. Calm. Control.

  This time it’ll be different. I have her stay planned down to the hour. Her tasks and trials, the way she’ll serve me. My own version of the twelve labors of Hercules, tailored to train her to my whims.

  I just can’t let myself feel. The softness of her skin, her honeyed scent, the golden glint in her green eyes—nothing will move me. I am the Master. She is mine. Even when others in her life tried to steal her, she returns to me.

  I turn back to the cameras. The cab is gone, leaving Daphne and her sole suitcase. Her hair blows in the wind. She makes her way to the door, her hips swaying with unconscious grace.

  My heart, the stupid, weak organ, stutters. She’s returned to me.

  Maybe it can be different, I think as she stands on the stoop, reaching for the iron knocker with trepidation in her eyes. Maybe we can start over.

  Then she pulls out her phone, stepping away from the stone wall to get service. The fucking engagement ring glitters on her finger as she raises the cell to her ear.

  What the fuck? She’s still wearing Adam’s mark. Is she calling him?

  Déjà vu. A scarlet curtain falls. The mindless rage rising.

  I find myself at the front door, a hand on the latch.

  No! Calm. Control.

  This time it will be different. I
’ll stay in control. And I won’t let myself feel.

  I’ll be the soulless monster she believes me to be.

  * * *

  Daphne

  “Wait, wha—!” But Logan doesn’t wait or explain as he hoists me up over his massive shoulder, his arm a bar across the back of my legs, locking me in place. “Logan!”

  I’ve only just barely gotten in the door of his castle and this is what he pulls.

  “Don’t call me that,” he growls. “Call me Beast or Master because that’s all I am to you now.”

  “Son of a bit—”

  I yelp at the sharp smack that earns me across my ass that’s still sore from our last session. “No more spanking. I can’t handle any more. I’ve barely been able to sit down. Please.”

  “Please, what?” he demands as he walks down the stairwell to the basement, not winded or off balance by my weight in the slightest bit.

  I grind my teeth together but my ass really is too sore for any more abuse. “Please, Master.” Alright, so that Master might have been dripping with sarcasm. And he doesn’t miss that because it earns me another sharp smack on the ass.

  I screech but then hurriedly squeak out, “Yes, Master!”

  “That’s better.” I can hear the smile in his voice, the smug bastard.

  I’m so off-kilter, I can barely take in my surroundings. But I still recognize it when he takes me straight to the dungeon. Because of course he does. My entire stay is probably going to be in this damn place. The stone walls, the familiar musty smell that I’ve missed even though I’ve been away from it for such a short time… Why am I excited instead of scared?

  Because Logan is Master, a voice whispers from deep within.

  I glance around at the cross set up against the wall, all sorts of implements hanging here and there. A bench I think is meant for...for spanking. And a table that he walks straight over to and deposits me on.

  “Take off your clothes.”

  I bite my lip and hazard a glance at Logan. His face is cold, devoid of emotion. I glare at him and do as he says. I pull off my shirt and bra quickly and efficiently. It’s not a strip tease. I kick off my jeans and leave them in a pile at my feet. The same with my underwear.

  I’m not quite sure how I manage to stand, back straight, completely naked in front of him, but I do. He doesn’t look down at my body. Doesn’t even peek.

  “Get on the table.”

  In for a penny, in for a pound. My heart starts racing a hundred miles an hour but I hop up on the table and lay down.

  There are cuffs at the wrist and ankles that Logan begins to swiftly attach to me, tying me down.

  And...and...I- I-

  I’m thrilled.

  I lay my head back and close my eyes as I silently admit to myself what I’ll never ever say out loud. I’m back where I belong. My toes flex in anticipation. I have absolutely no idea what Logan, what my Master, will do to me.

  But I trust him. This is the boy who noticed I was lonely and took me for sandwiches all those years ago. And the man who demands things of my body I never knew I had to give. I’ve never felt more alive or in my body than right this second.

  “Look at you,” Logan croons, the first time his voice has softened even the slightest bit since I’ve arrived. “Your body is quivering for my touch. You want this, don’t you?” He skims his fingers up my thigh. “You want this bad.”

  I can’t help quivering in response and I try to stop my gasp but don’t manage in time.

  “Well, today, little girl, is going to be your first trial. And your first lesson. You can’t always get what you want.”

  I frown. What does that mean?

  Logan prowls around the table.

  “Did you learn about the twelve labors of Hercules in school?”

  I nod. “I think so. It sounds familiar. But I- I don’t remember the particulars.”

  “Hercules too committed a great sin, and so in penance, the oracle told him to go serve King Eurystheus and do all that he asked of him. The King set him to twelve labors, each more difficult than the last.”

  Logan bends over me, eyes blazing into mine. “The last task had him descend into the very bowels of hell itself.” He trails a finger gently down my face and then between my breasts, pain and anger etched between his brows. “Are you willing to go to hell and back for your sins, Daphne?”

  I strain against my bindings. I didn’t commit the sins he’s bound and determined to think I did, I want to scream. Why is he so determined to think the worst of me? What’s happened to him to make him like this? The boy I once knew and even the man of the last two weeks I’ve become so intimate with... Finding Logan again only to lose him—I can’t. I won’t.

  So I tell him the truth. “I’m willing to do it for you.” I’ll fight for him, dammit. For this. For us.

  For a second, just for the briefest flicker of a moment, I think I see something in him crack—a flash of the Logan I know and cherish.

  But the next second the Master is back, cold and calculating. He pulls back and stands up straight, turning away from me.

  “Then let us begin.”

  Nine

  7 Years Ago

  Daphne

  “How did I know I’d find you here?”

  I look up at hearing my favorite voice, butterflies alight in my stomach.

  Logan.

  He pays attention to me out of pity, I know that’s why. But still my heart soars every time he stops by to say hi, and the few times he’s taken me out to eat—heaven.

  “Hi Logan.” I try for my voice not to sound shy but don’t quite succeed. Gods, don’t look like a timid little girl! I thought there was maybe a moment at the Ubeli’s ball when he saw me as more…but then he wouldn’t dance with me and I barely saw him the rest of the night.

  “How long have you been hunched over your books here?” he asks. “I saw you when you came in this morning and that was hours ago. Have you been at it all night?”

  I blink blearily and glance over at the clock on the wall, then down at my laptop. “I was trying to finish this chapter on my dissertation and I guess time got away from me.”

  His brow furrows. “Have you had any sustenance other than coffee?” He gestures at the several empty coffee cups in the corners of my little study carrel.

  A thrill goes through me in spite of my tiredness. Does this mean he’s about to take me on one of our little lunch dates? Then I wince internally. No, they aren’t dates. I’m a pity project and he’s a good man afraid of a girl on his watch dying of starvation.

  He lifts an eyebrow. “Woman cannot live on coffee alone. Come on.”

  Woman. He called me woman.

  He was making a joke. Don’t be an idiot.

  But I’m nodding and getting to my feet. “Okay, if you say so.” Inside, I’m doing cartwheels. Logan date! Logan date!

  I’m too tired to fight the internal battle and allow myself to just be happy as he leads me to our favorite sandwich shop.

  But to my surprise, he gets our order to go.

  My heart sinks. No Logan date after all. He’s just seeing that I’m fed and taking me right back where he found me. Dear heavens, this is embarrassing.

  I stand up straighter and try to be a grown-up about the whole thing. “Look, Logan. I appreciate it but really, I can take care of myself. Let me just pay for this, then I’ll get out of your hair.”

  I try to reach for my wallet in my purse but he puts his big, warm hands on mine, stopping me.

  Logan Wulfe is touching me. I melt under the contact, especially when I look up and those intense blue eyes are locked on mine.

  “Daphne, it’s okay to let someone look out for you once in a while. And after all your father has done for me, it’s the least I can do to provide his hungry daughter a meal once in a while. Please?”

  It’s not so much that I agree as I’m stunned into silence by the earnestness of his blue eyes and his touch, so he gets his way.

  My hand feels ter
ribly cold as soon as he lets me go to reach for his own wallet to pay the clerk.

  At least I know why he looks out for me now—it’s not pity, or maybe it is, but it’s also obligation and gratefulness to my father. It still has nothing to do with me.

  But, sad sap that I am, I’ll still cling to every moment I have with Logan.

  I expect him to take us right back to the lab but instead, our lunch in one hand, he takes my hand with his other and leads us down the sidewalk away from the lab.

  Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap, Logan Wulfe is holding my hand!!!

  What does it mean? Does he—? Oh crap, is my hand sweaty? If I would’ve known he was going to pull this move, I would’ve wiped it on my jeans first.

  He lets my hand go almost as quickly as he grabbed it, though, leaving my head a tornado of swirling thoughts.

  But he’s grinning at me, that strong jaw and brow so masculine, it kills me. While Adam Archer is what most people would describe as classically handsome, Logan is what does it for me. Rough around the edges, but a sweetness that belies his difficult youth.

  And he’s real in a way that Adam isn’t. Adam is like the fake sweetener that’s so overly sweet, it makes everyone like the drink, but only because they can barely taste the original substance anymore.

  Whereas Logan is black coffee. Bracing. Honest. Of the earth. And so, so good.

  “We’re going for a day-trip.”

  “What?” I almost cough the word, I’m so surprised. But then I realize Logan’s stopped us in front of a truck.

  “Being stuck in that lab all the time isn’t good for you. You need some vitamin D.” He unlocks the passenger side door and opens it for me, gesturing me inside.

  Squee, Logan date back on!

  I don’t hesitate scrambling up inside, especially when he holds out a hand to help me.

  When he rounds the truck and climbs in, I’m all but bouncing on the seat in my excitement. “Where are we going?”

  He smirks, glancing at me. “It’s a surprise. But it’s a ways away. Do you want to eat now or when we get there?”