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

by Black, Stasia

  The firelight catches the side of her frown as she turns to me. “You and me, together.”

  I tuck a half-dry strand of hair behind her ear. “We are together.”

  “No we’re not. You’re holding yourself back, Logan.”

  My voice hardens, my body tensing. “Well, do you blame me?”

  “No,” she says, and looks sad. “I don’t.”

  I rub soothing circles onto her back. “We still have this. Just for tonight.” I can pretend for one night.

  “Mmm,” she hums, but it’s not quite an agreement. She wants more than one night.

  I wish I could give it to her.

  “I called my dad today.”

  I bite back a grimace. Once upon a time, Dr. Laurel was my mentor. A surrogate father. I would have done anything to please him until I realized how hollow he was inside. Daphne’s still caught in his web of lies.

  “And?” I keep my voice bland.

  She sighs. “He’s still recovering. I talked to him today and he sounded so weak. I wanted to confront him about everything, challenge him about selling Thornhill but—”

  “But?”

  “In the end, does it matter? He’s an old man. I’ve lived my whole life the way he wanted, but it was my choice. Especially the past few years, taking on Belladonna. I could’ve told him no.”

  My brows arch up. Daphne’s never talked like this before. “Did you tell him that? Today?”

  “No.” She half rolls her eyes. “I kept our talk super short. He was slow and out of breath and I...well, I had a butt plug stretching my ass.”

  I can’t help my chuckle. “You’re such a good girl.”

  She giggles with me. “I so am.”

  Being with her feel so good, so natural. And since we’re already pretending…

  “Come. I have something to show you.”

  She lifts her head. “What?”

  “A gift.”

  She sighs. “I only want you.”

  My cock jumps. Definitely only my cock. Not that other stupid organ in my chest. Not at all. I lift her off my lap, stand and offer my hand.

  “An olive branch, then.”

  * * *

  Daphne

  “Won’t I need clothes?” I ask as Logan wraps me in a fur carefully. “Shoes?”

  “No. I’ll carry you.”

  He lifts me as if I’m light as a rose petal. The night air is bracing on my bare face, but the coat covers me past my feet. Frosted grass crunches under Logan’s shoes as he carries me down the hill. The castle looms behind us, darkly beautiful bathed in moonlight. Beside us, the labyrinth is a black, leafy wall.

  But that’s not where Logan is taking me. Moonlight glints off a structure ahead. I’m not wearing my contacts or glasses so it takes me a moment to recognize the sheen of glass.

  “A greenhouse,” I breathe, delighted.

  When he opens the door, warm air embraces me, along with the scent of jasmine and vanilla. Logan sets me down. The moonlight is enough to guide my path through the dark rows. I can pick out the groups of plant by scent. Herbs, orchids, a few vegetables, and finally the last rows dedicated to hybrid after hybrid of—

  “Roses.” I swallow a stone that’s suddenly formed in my throat. “These are my mother’s.”

  I look to Logan and he doesn’t deny it.

  My eyes go back to the roses. “You brought them from Thornhill.” I delicately touch a prickly leaf.

  “I wanted them close,” he says. “Easier to care for.”

  “My father told me he wouldn’t let my mother’s garden go, that he’d hire someone to keep it up. That the hybrids she was working on would be looked after, kept alive until I had time to return and continue her work.” But he didn’t. He sold Thornhill. It was Logan who cherished these roses and kept them thriving.

  “Dad lied to me. About this. About everything.” I turn and walk down the rows. Logan follows, a giant shadow dogging my steps. But I’m grateful for his presence. His warmth.

  “Thornhill was promised to me, did you know that? I wanted to live there, convert one of the greenhouses to a lab. Dad convinced me to move into the city. Now I know why.” I let out a hollow laugh.

  I stop at the edge of the greenhouse and press my face to the cold glass. I won’t cry. The hurt is so constant, it’s seeped into my bones. It’s part of my blood.

  My father has always been like this. Since the day I was born, he made it clear that I mattered less than the stem cells I could give my ailing mother and the accolades I would win in his name. I’ve carried that pain and rejection every day of my life. Take it away and I wouldn’t be Daphne.

  * * *

  Logan

  The pain in Daphne’s voice stabs me. A tear beads in her lashes and she blinks it away.

  “My father only cared about what I could give him. Never about me. I never mattered to him.”

  Finally, she sees the truth about her shit dad. There’s no satisfaction in the fact, though, because I can see how much she’s hurting. I reach out to touch her, but stop with my hand hovering in the air. I don’t want to add to her pain.

  Then she turns and sees my hand, smiles, and reaches up to clasp it herself. “I did matter to my mother. But I was her donor, you know. She loved me, she did, but our time together was colored by the disease. I never met anyone who cared about me for me...until I met you.”

  She looks up at me and I almost back away from her adoring smile. Her trust hits me like a blow.

  “Everything’s changing,” she murmurs. “I’m changing. But I didn’t do it fast enough, did I? As soon as I walked back into Belladonna, I turned into the old Daphne. A pushover, pleasing everyone but herself.”

  I start to make a noise and she goes on tiptoe to press two fingers to my lips.

  “I’m not making excuses,” she says quickly. “Everything that happened, I allowed it. But please, let me say this. I never got to properly say it when you found me that day at Mom’s grave. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

  I swallow hard at her apology, not sure how I feel, but she’s not done.

  “Adam steamrolled over me and I let him. I was a grown woman but I let him and fear of the board make me a doormat just like I always was for my father my whole life. And that’s my fault.”

  She releases me and turns away.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to finally say it out loud. I’m sorry I immediately fell back in old patterns. But the old mold doesn’t fit anymore. In a way, it never did. I feel stronger now. I didn’t know the world could be this…big. That my life could be so full of color. I feel like I’m starting to become the woman I was always supposed to be.” Her voice grows stronger as she moves through the greenhouse. I catch up to her at the door. Her head’s tipped back and the moonlight bathes her face. “And that’s all because of you.” The last words come out as a whisper but I hear them all the same.

  “Come on,” I wrap my arms around her. I can’t help her words affecting me. She’s saying everything I want to hear. And though there’s a part of me that still clenched in suspicion of her playing me…the rest of me?

  The rest of me just wants to hold my Daphne. Hold her close forever and never let her go.

  “It’s late. You need sleep for tomorrow.”

  “More torture?” she asks lightly.

  I want to say no, but I can’t lie. Owning Daphne’s body is the only way to exorcise my demons. And if there’s a chance, even the slightest chance that this could all be real, that there could be a future for us…

  “It’s okay,” she whispers, and snuggles against me as I carry her to bed. I tuck her in, careful of her piercings. I fuss as long as I can until there’s nothing left to do. But I can’t bring myself to leave. I slide my hand over the coverlet, smoothing it over and over again, feeling her warmth underneath.

  “Lie with me?” she asks sleepily. She’s so beautiful, soft and warm in the bed, inviting and tempting like nothing else. It’s a bad idea, but I can’t
refuse. I’m tired of fighting. There’s nothing else I want than to hold her close for hours.

  “This isn’t a precedent,” I mutter as I slip in next to her. Her smooth legs tangle with mine and my boner tents the sheet. I grit my teeth, willing it to subside. I really do just want to hold her and I’m not sure I could deal with the intensity of fucking her again right now. If I started, I’m not sure I could stop. “I’m not doing this every night,” I growl churlishly.

  She doesn’t acknowledge my warning. “You were the only one who could get me to sleep,” she reminds me, sighing happily and tucking her head under my chin. Her breathing evens out immediately, leaving me wondering if I’m living my nightmare or my best dream.

  Twenty

  Present Day

  Daphne

  The sun slants across my face and I stretch. Logan is gone—I didn’t expect he’d stay. That he held me last night so I could fall sleep is enough.

  Last night felt…important. Like maybe a breakthrough of some kind? Even if only for me. It was important for me to officially apologize and acknowledge my responsibility for what happened. I can’t control what Logan believes. I can only control my actions and responses.

  And I’m done being a doormat. For my father. For Logan. For anyone.

  He left long instructions for my day. No more butt plugs, thank gods. My ass still feels stretched and sore—in the most delicious way.

  I take his list of commands and head to the bathroom. Submitting sexually to Logan is different than being a doormat. I’m participating with him and there’s a willing exchange of control. It’s thrilling and life-giving.

  When I look in the mirror, a beautiful, vibrant woman looks back, her eyes wide and soft and filled with satisfaction. No longer a mousy wallflower who thinks she should stay quiet in the background.

  I arch my back and examine myself. My nipple piercings look good. The area is still a bit red, but no sign of infection. I perform the aftercare per Logan’s instructions and soak my breasts in a sea salt solution. Logan also left a can of saline wash with orders to mist my nipples several times a day. If I don’t, he says he’ll punish me and oversee the aftercare himself.

  The threats make me smile. If he has his way, the piercings will heal perfectly, and I’ll always remember last night, his claim. He’s making sure he’s always a part of me.

  Even if I take out the piercings, he’ll always be a part of me. Permanently. But then, he would have been without the piercings, anyway.

  As I return to the bedroom, my phone chirps from the drawer I tossed it in. I’ve been ignoring it—sending Rachel the bare minimum of texts to keep her from calling the cops. Should I take a picture of my nipples and send it to her? I grin at the thought.

  The phone screen tells me she’s called three times already this morning. I quickly sober. She’s probably not in the mood to hear about my sex life.

  Time to face reality. I click the call button and wander to a seat by the fire. I’m naked but for a towel around my waist. Logan’s trained me to feel comfortable in the buff. Yet another thing for Rachel and I to giggle about during our next girl’s night.

  Rachel picks up on the second ring. “Oh thank gods,” she gasps. “I have good news, and I have bad news.”

  I rub my forehead. “Go ahead.”

  “The good news is...Adam hasn’t bothered you these past few days.”

  She’s right. He’s been quiet. Not a call, not even a text.

  “What’s the bad news?”

  “Well...the reason he’s not bothering you is he’s busy planning your engagement party.”

  I almost drop the phone. “What?!” I start to pace. “Shit, Rachel, that is bad news.”

  “Um, that’s not the bad news. I kinda might have promised him you’d be there. You know, at your own engagement party.”

  I groan and collapse into a chair. A hoard of workmen have moved into my head, and they must be doing demolition, because my head is pounding.

  “I know,” Rachel whispers. “I couldn’t stop him. I could only buy time. He’s left you alone because he thinks you’re resting up and getting ready for the ball.”

  “A ball? You mean the engagement party?”

  “He kinda invited everyone in Olympus. At least, everyone who matters.”

  Meaning: the rich and famous and powerful. The jackhammering in my skull increases.

  “The board?”

  “Yep.”

  “The donors?”

  “Unfortunately.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Yeah,” Rachel agrees. “I couldn’t stop him. When I wouldn’t give him your location, he was going to track your cellphone and show up to surprise you.”

  I clutch the phone. I am having a heart attack. There’s no other way to describe this tightness in my chest.

  “Daphne?”

  Breathe, just breathe.

  “Okay, Rachel. Thank you. When is the ball?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Of course it is.” I can’t react with shock—I have no more to give. “Can you get a dress and stylist ready?”

  “You’re going?”

  “Of course I am.” What better time to break off my engagement? Not ideal, but it has to be done.

  It’s time to finally stand up to Adam.

  Ten minutes later I knock on the library door. I’m dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, a brand new sports bra cradling my breasts. Feels weird to be wearing clothes.

  Logan’s reading a paper, ignoring my approach. I almost go to my knees, but decide against it. We need to have this conversation as equals.

  “Logan, I need to talk to you about something.”

  He lowers the paper and blinks at my clothed form. His ice-blue gaze pierces me. His mask is white today. “I think you mean, ‘Master.’”

  But I don’t lower my head. “Yes, you’re Master, but you’re also more than that. You’re Logan and I’m Daphne. And I need to be able to talk to you.”

  I walk forward to the table and climb onto his lap. His jaw flexes and his hands come to my hips. For a second, I’m not sure if he wants to toss me off or not, but then his hands start to massage my flesh. Oh, his touch feels so good. I want to melt into him and languish in his touch. I want to go back to last night when he held me in his arms and it felt like he was beginning to trust me.

  But no, I have to stay strong. This has to be said.

  So I hurry to get it out all at once. “Adam’s planning an engagement party. I just found out. It’s tomorrow.”

  Logan’s frozen to stone underneath me. And his voice is ice when he asks, “Are you looking for my permission?”

  “What? Gods, no! I’m telling you I need to go break it off with him. To his face. It all got out of hand. I never said yes—”

  “Then how did his ring get on your finger?”

  Logan hoists me by my waist and deposits me on the floor. Apparently he can’t stand my touch or proximity anymore because he prowls to the far side of the room.

  “No. I forbid it. If you want your father’s patents, you aren’t to leave the grounds.”

  He’s lashing out like a wounded animal.

  I approach Logan with my head held high. “I was weak then but I’m strong enough now. I know I am.” All I can do is reiterate what I said last night and pray that he’s strong too. Strong enough to believe in me. In us. “You’ve shown me my own strength. You’ve let me explore who I am and who I want to be. I know my mind and what I want.”

  I reach out a hand to touch his cheek. “And it was never Adam.”

  He still flinches when I say Adam’s name.

  “I don’t trust him,” he growls, his eyes narrowing behind his mask.

  “Do you trust me?” I ask.

  His jaw tightens again and I see the conflict in his eyes as he finally says, “I’m trying to.”

  Oh, Logan. What happened to this man that’s made it so hard for him to trust? But he’s trying. He just said so and I’ve seen it firsthand. I
t means so, so much. It means that there’s a chance for us.

  So I kneel on the floor at his feet and bow my head. And utter one simple word. “Master.”

  Twenty-One

  Present Day

  Logan

  She’s so beautiful and perfectly submissive. Or is it all an act? The constant question that tortures me.

  Her request has taken me off guard.

  But she came to you. She didn’t try to hide or run off behind your back. And she wants to break the engagement. And the reality is, last night things shifted. I swore I saw the truth shining in her eyes. Can I trust it? Can I trust my own judgment when it comes to her?

  At some point, there has to be a leap of faith. She’s sure as hell asking me to leap, wanting to go to this fucking engagement party. But what she said, about being strong now… Will I be weak when she’s strong?

  She’s continually abandoned herself to me and put herself in my hands, so bravely.

  I’ll show her that I can be brave too, and I’ll send her out into the world stronger than she’s ever been.

  I’ll fucking leap.

  And all the while, there she kneels, so gorgeous, her fall of black hair so silky and smooth, at my feet.

  “Strip,” I order. “And follow me.”

  She immediately pulls her shirt off her head and discards her bra, then shimmies out of her leggings and underwear, exposing acres of golden skin.

  My erection immediately pulses to life. I want to grab her and mount her right here. But that’s too exposed and besides, with as unsteady as I feel, I know a scene will do us both good.

  I lead her to the dungeon. The one place where things have always made sense between us. My thudding heartbeat calms as soon as we step into the room. Yes. Calm. Control. It soothes over me like the ocean tide.

  Daphne is silent, observing, peeking up even though her head is lowered. Naughty sub.

  “Eyes down.” I give her ass a swat.

  She lowers her eyes and twitches in place, rubbing her legs together. I grow even harder. She’s as excited for this as I am. Maybe she knows she needs it, too. She said I make her stronger, and she’s going to need that strength if she’s going to go back out in the world to face everyone who cowed her before.