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

by Black, Stasia

  But then, as I watch, red vein-like spindles begin to spider outwards. Down my cheek. Up towards my left eye.

  I stumble back from the mirror, grunting in shocked surprise.

  But it’s not stopping.

  It only accelerates as I watch.

  I reach my phone to call 911 but by the time I’ve dialed, the mirror is already revealing a monster.

  The infection or whatever it is, is spreading like spilled ink through the veins of my face. And I’m being lit on fire from within. Hellfire. Burning me alive from the inside out.

  I vaguely hear the 911 operator over the phone I dropped to the floor but I’m too busy screaming to answer. Without thinking, I raise my hands to my face but as soon as I make contact, the infection spreads to my fingers.

  I burst out of the bathroom looking for somebody, anybody to help. But the first person to see me, Sandra from research and development, screams and drops the files she’s holding.

  “Help,” I try to say, but my throat is burning.

  I collapse to my knees and that’s when I realize I’m dying.

  A slow clap comes from the corner. I lift my face, that now feels like an inferno, just in time to make out Adam’s satisfied smirk as he stands and claps, as if me dying in front of him is some sort of performance art.

  I lunge for him but someone else catches me in their arms.

  “Logan!” Daphne tries to catch me, but I’m too heavy, and we both topple to the ground.

  No! The only possible thing that could have made this worse is having her witness it. But I’m wrong, so wrong. There is something worse.

  Because when I finally managed to pull myself off of Daphne, I see her looking at her own hands in confusion. Seconds before they too begin to redden and then start to disintegrate before my very eyes.

  Her ear splitting scream of terror and confusion is the last thing I hear before—

  My eyes shoot open and I bolt upright. Or at least I try to.

  I barely make it an inch before the restraints strapped around my body on all sides keep me in place.

  Because I’m strapped down to a fucking hospital bed. And this isn’t a kinky game of power exchange with my Daphne.

  I don’t know where I am but I know I don’t want to be here.

  Especially when the door opens and an orderly pops his head in. Then I hear a whispered exchange.

  “It’s your turn. I don’t want to have to deal with that crazy fucker again today. Did you see what they’re giving him in his drug cocktail? They should be sedating him but instead they are giving him—” he mentions some drug I’m not familiar with. I guess the other nurse isn’t either, because then he clarifies, “It’s basically LSD. I don’t know what the hell they’re thinking. That shit’s just going to wind him up and make him twice as crazy while he’s all strapped up like that.”

  “But we get hazard pay and a half,” says another male voice. “And I got bills to pay.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” the other guy mutters, though he doesn’t sound happy about it. “Don’t know what good that’s going to do me if I got a broken neck. You see Nick? That guy’s a giant, right? But even Nick got two of his teeth knocked out bringing this guy in.”

  My own teeth grate as I strain against the restraints, looking for any weakness I might exploit. But there’s so many damn straps up and down my arms and legs, even if I got one free, how the hell am I going to get out of the rest?

  Because I have to get back to Daphne. Fuck. Daphne. She can’t handle this kind of stress right now. It’s literally one of the worst things for someone in her condition. How long have I been here? How long since the…the wedding?

  My hands fist. I am going to fucking kill Adam Archer for ruining that moment for Daphne. The memory of him clapping while I disintegrate from flesh-eating bacteria in front of him… Bile burns up my throat.

  Of course, that’s not exactly how that day went down. I went to the bathroom, saw the redness and swelling, and a couple hours later when the stinging continued, I went to the doctor. And after some tests came back, was immediately admitted to the ICU.

  I could never prove it, but I don’t doubt it was Adam who ordered the infectious sample from the CDC. Adam who put it on my goggles. Adam who tried to murder me in one of the most horrific ways possible.

  And now I’m here for the exact same reason. Adam fucking Archer, taking another swing at me.

  As my fury builds, my vision begins to blur. There’s a high, slim horizontal window at the top of the wall, and the light begins to shimmer and twist. I blink hard, but the light still dances. I glance around and for the first time notice that the walls aren’t that steady either. Everything is swaying slightly.

  Fuck, what drugs are they shoving into me without my consent?

  Which is when I look down my body and notice the IV stuck in my arm. Shit, they’re still actively pumping poison into me.

  Get it out. Get it the hell out!

  As I watch, the line of the IV starts to undulate like a snake, burrowing into my skin. I twist and scratch, but I’m bound too tightly. I can’t get to it to yank it out.

  “Help!” I scream as the poison spreads. “Get it out!”

  But no one comes. No one ever comes to help.

  And then there are a thousand snakes, all skittering through my veins, poison, poison. They’ll burn me. They’ll chew on me and burn me, eating me alive from the inside out.

  I scream and scream, until my voice is hoarse, until I have no more voice, but no one ever comes to save me.

  Nineteen

  Daphne

  Rachel shoves down the hoodie of her sweatshirt and holds up her hands. “It’s me.”

  Like that’s supposed to make me feel better about the situation.

  Her normally perfectly styled blonde hair is loose around her face, with dark roots showing. She’s in yoga pants and a baggy, shapeless sweater. There are dark craters under her eyes. She looks fragile, but all the more beautiful for it.

  Of course she’s the one woman who looks amazing even when she’s a wreck. I brush crumbs off my lap from the teacakes with Armand, and tug up the sleeve of my boat neck sweater, which has fallen off my shoulder. I look like seven types of shit.

  “Daphne, I am so, so, so sorry.” She’s stopped a few feet away from me, wringing her hands.

  I scoff. Does she really expect me to believe that? Especially after she just broke into my house, on top of everything else?

  “Adam blackmailed me,” she blurts. “I didn’t want to help him with any of it.”

  “What?”

  “He’s had dirt on me a long time. I know you’re mad, and you have a right to be. But I can explain.” Her eyes drop to the floor in shame. “A few years ago, remember when my dad needed surgery?”

  In spite of myself, my heart tugs. “Rachel, I told you I could help you out, no strings attached.”

  When she looks up, a tear is streaking down her cheek. “I was too proud. I thought I could fix it on my own.”

  “How?”

  She swipes angrily at her tears and swallows hard.

  “Belladonna has an annual slush fund for company parties. It’s stupid and nonessential and no one ever usually checks the balance but me since I’m the chair of the committee. I just needed $2000 to pay off the hospital so they wouldn’t foreclose on Dad’s house. I knew I could pay it back as soon as I got my tax refund. And I did. In full. The money was only missing a few weeks. It seemed harmless.”

  My thoughts are on a merry-go-round. I was barely able to sleep last night after they took Logan away, but that reminds me—

  “You drugged me.” The betrayal still cuts deep.

  “Not me. Adam.” Her voice is desperate. “Look, I know you won’t believe me. I can only imagine what he’s told you—”

  “That you instigated the whole thing so you could sell my pictures to the Inquirer.”

  “What?” she rage screeches. I flinch. “Sorry,” she drops her voice, still
fuming. “I can’t believe he accused me. That lying...cheating…”

  “Douche canoe?”

  “The douchiest!” She throws her hands up in the air. I shouldn’t laugh, but it’s amazing seeing Rachel like this. Her hair’s mussed and her cheeks are red with rage. It’s a good look for her.

  I want to throw my arms around her. I miss my best friend so badly. But my naïveté has cost me too much, too many times.

  So I hold myself back and gesture at the kitchen table. I sit at the opposite side and fold my hands together. “So what happened then?”

  She nods, swallowing hard again, and returns to her story. “It should have been harmless. But somebody did notice the money was missing.”

  “Adam,” I say.

  Furtively, she looks my way and nods.

  “Adam,” she agrees. “I didn’t even know Archer Industries had access to our books until he showed up in my office one day looking for answers. We weren’t officially affiliated with them back then.”

  I know the answer to that. Dad. No doubt Adam made the request, framing it in such a way as if he was looking out for my dad’s interests… When all along it was just another lever of control for Adam, always on the hunt for any weakness.

  And he found one in Rachel.

  Rachel’s eyes are back on the table. “At first it wasn’t anything big. He just said I might owe him a favor in the future. Then sometimes he’d show up at my apartment in the middle of the night and I got the idea it was in my best interests not to say no.” The last part comes out as a whisper.

  “Back then I was still trying to pretend that I was into it. He was hot and New Olympus’ Most Eligible Bachelor three years running…”

  She sucks in a deep breath. “But then he started dating you.” Her eyes dart up to meet mine and then away again. “He said I should encourage it. When I balked, that’s when he started to hold the missing money over me. And it only got worse from there.”

  Her hands shoot across the table and grasp mine. I jump in surprise but she doesn’t let go. “But I swear, I never drugged you. I didn’t know, that night at his apartment. I swear I didn’t know what he was doing. And I didn’t let him touch you. I swear, Daphne. You have to believe me. I distracted him the whole night. He was determined to take those damn pictures, but he didn’t touch you.”

  Her impassioned plea and the tears shining in her eyes— Either she’s the best damn actress I’ve ever witnessed in my life or…

  I shove out of my chair and move as quickly as my tired body can take me, then I throw my arms around my best friend.

  She hugs me back just as fiercely. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” she repeats over and over, eventually shaking and sobbing in my arms.

  “It’s okay,” I find myself laughing and soothing her, patting her back. “We were both taken advantage of by The Douchiest Douche.”

  But when she pulls back, she’s shaking her head. “He’s more than that. He’s evil. And I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

  That’s when she starts to pull folders out of a backpack I didn’t even notice she’d brought in. “I came here so that we could take that bastard down. I’m not the only one he’s tried to blackmail. And I’ve got proof.”

  * * *

  With Armand and Cora’s help, it takes about four hours to put together the press conference.

  Armand himself came to style Rachel and get her camera ready. She’s shaking while several news teams set up the lighting and cameras.

  “You look perfect,” I say. I grab her forearms. “You look fierce. Confident. You can do this.”

  But she’s shaking her head rapidly back and forth. “No, I can’t. I’m not like you. I’m not strong.”

  I barely keep in my laughter. Is she serious? Me, strong? Then again, maybe she’s right. Maybe strength is what it’s taken all these years to survive. And lately I’ve been determined not only to survive, but thrive.

  So maybe Rachel’s right, that does take strength. Incredible strength. And it’s okay if it took me a while to get here. Just like it’s okay that Rachel’s finally discovering that well within herself now.

  I move my hands to hers and squeeze hard. “You’ve got this. I know you do. You’re a total badass and now you’re going to go show the world that you won’t let anybody walk all over you. Because you deserve so much better.”

  She grins wide at me. “Fucking love you.”

  She hugs me hard, then pivots and walks out to the podium before I can even return the sentiment.

  Lights blaze and cameras flash as she reaches the podium and arranges her notes. Finally, she takes a drink of water from the glass that’s been set there and then begins.

  “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for coming here tonight. My name is Rachel Simpson and three years ago, Adam Archer began blackmailing me in exchange for sex, corporate secrets, and more recently, in exchange for my cooperation in seducing, then later drugging and taking illegal photographs of his ex-fiancée Daphne Laurel.”

  There are audible gasps across the room but Rachel isn’t nearly done. “Furthermore, while in his acquaintance, I came across evidence that I was only one of many that Adam Archer was blackmailing. Other victims include—”

  And then I watch on from the sidelines like a proud mom as she goes on to list a long number of names, both public and private figures. Many of the names of public figures raise eyebrows, including that of New Olympus’ chief of police.

  The camera lights continue blazing, but half the reporters in the room are scribbling notes while others are on the phone, some even leaving the room to make calls.

  And I sit back and smile in satisfaction, knowing that finally Adam Archer’s life is about to be blown apart—an experience he’s inflicted on so many others.

  Karma is sweet.

  Twenty

  Logan

  The creak of an opening door rouses me from my foggy state. My eyes snap open. I’ve been lying here for I don’t know how long. Long enough for the light in the window to fade. Long enough for the dark to cover me. Long enough to sense when I’m no longer alone.

  “Who’s there?” My throat is screaming for water.

  “A friend.” A shadow detaches itself from the wall and drifts to the foot of my bed where it solidifies into the shape of a man. Tall and slender, clad in a tailored grey suit. “Relax. I’m here to rescue you.”

  Head bowed, he studies my restraints a moment, before reaching in his breast pocket and drawing out a Swiss Army knife. A few short moments and I’m free. My joints creak but I rip out the IV from my arm.

  ‘Thanks’ is on the tip of my tongue, but I have no idea what’s going on. As far as I know, this man could still be an enemy. A trap.

  “Who are you?” I have to squint into the shadows, where he’s retreated.

  “My name is Sebastian St. James.” His cultured voice, smooth and deep, winds its way into my ears. He half smiles as he returns to my side and offers me a bottle of water.

  “Never heard of you.” But I take the water and gulp it down.

  “I’ve taken great care to remain anonymous. I prefer it.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  “I own this building.”

  “Then you’re not a friend.” I drop the water bottle on the floor, wishing my strength was back. If I stand now, I don’t trust myself to remain upright. If I did, I’d wipe the floor with him.

  “I assure you, Dr. Wulfe, I am a friend.” He doesn’t back away from my glare, but steeples his fingers. “Allow me to start from the beginning. I own a great many things. An empire, built over many years.”

  “You don’t look that old to me,” I grunt. The man facing me with such a lack of fear is smooth-faced. Thirty at the most. Young to bear such an air of gravitas.

  “I started young. And I have many friends. It’s easy to amass the things you want when you’re willing to ally yourself with anyone who can help you get them.”

  “You m
ade a deal with the devil.”

  “Some say that. Some say I am the devil.” His voice holds a note of amusement. “But that has nothing to do with the circumstances right now. Lately I’ve been interested in expanding my interests into the pharmaceutical realm. I acquired research by a brilliant young doctor, a prodigy of the late Dr. Laurel.”

  I shake my head. I know where this is going.

  “For a while now, I’ve been investigating Adam Archer. We even signed a temporary agreement for him to use my warehouse as a private research facility.”

  He spreads his hands to indicate our surroundings. “My own company provides security. Not only to secure the outside of the building, but to monitor the inner workings as well. Imagine my surprise when my secret cameras show a man being held against his will. And not just any man. A former friend, college roommate, and rival of Adam Archer.”

  He leans in. “And, if my research is correct, the real prodigy of Dr. Laurel. The one Adam Archer would do anything to destroy.”

  “All right,” I say drily. If I wasn’t still feeling weak and woozy, I’d be outta here. Since I need a moment to collect my strength, I’m okay with listening to this stranger’s soliloquy. “You figured it all out. Now what?”

  “We seem to have a common enemy. And common goals. I wish to expand my holdings into the pharmaceutical arena. You want the means and ability to continue your research—starting with the cure for Battleman’s. You have the knowledge, I have the labs. If we partner together, we could be behind the medical breakthroughs of this century.”

  He lowers his hands, his face taking on a wry expression, as if he’s amused by his own forthrightness. In the middle of his earnest speech, he looked much younger. “But that comes later. Let us address the matter at hand. Revenge.”

  “Yes,” I growl, unable to stop myself from showing my hand. St. James’ expression is perfectly blank. But I understand how he could be as powerful as he claims. If he’s able to speak to the heart of the matter, and offer a man exactly what he wants...he could easily rule an empire.