Prologue

Caleb

“Then the robot launched itself into the air, catching the small device that held the secrets of the world. He tumbled to the floor with a loud clanging sound, and when he opened his hand to give the young boy the small drive, suddenly––” She closes the book. “To be continued.”

“Oh, come on, Mom! You can’t stop there. Does the robot still have the thumb drive, or did it fall out of his hand when he fell?” We have just gotten to the good part, and Mom always stops right before the climax. It drives me bonkers.

“I guess you’ll just have to wait until next time,” Mom laughs.

My mom always knows how to make a story exciting, and even though I want to know what happens, I like how she builds the suspense. It makes the story even more fun when we come back to it the next night.

“Okay. I bet he still has it in his hand, but maybe it broke,” I say excitedly.

“Hey now, none of that. You may spoil it.” She stands, tucks the blankets tighter around me, and kisses my forehead. “Goodnight, buddy. I love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.” I snuggle farther into my blankets, but right before I doze off, I hear shuffling outside my door. “Mom?”

When she doesn’t answer, I get out of bed and walk to my bedroom door but jump back when my door shakes, and I hear my mom scream. My heart starts going a hundred miles an hour, and I grab the doorknob to check on her, but it won’t open. I twist the knob again and again, but it won’t budge.

“Mom! Mom, are you okay? I can’t open the door!” I’m starting to sweat, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.

“Caleb! Help! Please! Don’t let him take me!” I hear my mom cry.

My hands begin to ache as I bang on the door over and over again, trying to get the bad man away from her. “Let her go! You can’t take her!” I scream as tears run down my face.

When I bang on the door one last time, it finally unlatches. I swing it open and run out of my room to find my mom. When I don’t see her in the loft, I run to the stairs and gasp when I see her being dragged down each step, and the thumping sound her body makes with each step makes me wince.

I can’t see who’s taking her, but I don’t care. I barrel down the stairs and pull on the man’s arm, but he’s too strong. He just laughs, throwing me off his arm like an annoying bug. Lifting myself from the floor, I scream as loud as I can and start to bang my fist on his back.

“You can’t take her! She’s my mom!” I feel like my skin is lava, and I want to hurt the man. I want him to die, even though mom wouldn’t like those thoughts. When my fists don’t hurt the man, I grab my mom’s legs and pull, but again he’s too strong, and he pulls her out of my hands.

“Caleb, you have to be stronger. You can’t save me if you’re not stronger.” My mom’s face turns white, and her eyes close.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I’m not stronger. I’m sorry,” I cry, my head hanging in shame and my body shaking with my sobs. When I lift my head to watch my mom be taken from me, the man stops at the door and looks at me.

“You’ll never be able to save her, boy. Little boys are too weak to save anyone,” he sneers, “and by the way, I’ll be back for your sister.”

“Caleb, honey. It’s okay, buddy.” My mom’s soft voice pulls me from the cloud of my nightmare, and I bolt upright in my bed. “Hey, I’m here, baby. I’m right here,” she soothes, and when I blink her face into focus, I leap into her arms and cry into her shoulder.

I know some of my friends would probably laugh at me for crying about a nightmare, but I don’t care. They didn’t have their moms taken away from them for over a month. They didn’t see their mom’s face bruised and blooded, and they didn’t feel too weak or too little to help.

As she strokes my back and hums in my ear, I hear a noise at my door and whimper.

“Shh, baby, it’s just daddy.” She rocks my body side to side, and when I look at my dad, I can tell he’s sad. He’s sad because I’m hurting and scared, but he’s also sad because he lost mom too, and I don’t think he feels strong right now either. Even though he and uncle Kyle were the ones that saved her.

I bury my face in her neck and finally let everything out, “I’m sorry I’m too little. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.” I choke on my tears. “I’m sorry I’m not strong enough.” I hear her sniffle, and when I look up at her face, I see her eyes are red, and tears flow down her face, and my heart hurts more.

I’m hurting her. I’m a bad son.

I want to apologize again, but she just squeezes me close and smiles down at me. “Oh, my little guy,” she sighs. “You are the strongest kid I know, and I’m not just saying that. I always thought you were strong, but when your dad told me how brave you were when I was gone, I was blown away. Caleb, baby, you and Lizzy gave me strength, so how could you not be strong enough yet still give me some of your strength? And don’t you ever doubt you didn’t help me because without you telling me you love me every night, I may have given up. Buddy, I know you’re a smart guy, and it may not seem possible, but I heard you every night.” She puts her hand on her chest over her heart, then places my hand over hers. “My heart would pinch, then feel like it was floating, and that’s when I knew you were talking to me.” She smiles, and I can’t help the goofy grin that crosses my face.

“You really knew I was talking to you?”

“I really did, and your dad and Uncle Kyle may have been there in person and saved my physical self, but buddy, you saved my heart and soul.”

My eyes widen at her declaration, and suddenly I feel ready to take on any monster, any bad guy, anyone who tries to hurt my family. I hug her tighter, and in my eight-year-old mind, I promise to never let my family be hurt again. I will stand in front of any danger and fight because this is my family, and I will protect what’s mine.

1

Ten years later

“Dad, come on. You know I’m not getting anything from being here. I’ve learned more by experimenting on my own than I have in the last two years I’ve been here. I’ve sat through hours of classes, and none of them have given me the skills needed to build the Cell-1 prototype. I did it. On. My. Own,” I protest.

My frustration begins to build—much like my dad’s at the fact that I want to quit MIT. My only saving grace is hearing my mom on the other side of the line, trying to calm him before he lays into me.

My dad is a great man––one to be admired––but when it comes to me not finishing college? Let’s just say cooler heads don’t always prevail. We’ve had this conversation several times in the past two years, and with every excellent point I make, he just tells me finishing is what’s best for me.

After I graduated high school at sixteen, I received a full ride to MIT. When most teenage boys were going to parties, feeling up girls, and drinking illegally, I was at home deconstructing and reconstructing various computers, cell phones, and any other piece of technology I could get my hands on.

I would either create something completely different, or I would work to improve upon an existing piece of technology. That’s how I came up with my latest cell technology that allowed the user to disable any type of IED within a one-mile radius. After my Uncle Kyle told me about all the men he lost to hidden IEDs, I knew I had to find a way to decrease that number for future soldiers.

I applied to some local tech showcases to present my invention, but I soon realized that not many people would allow a seventeen-year-old kid to even suggest he had such a device––MIT student or not. So, I decided to just focus on perfecting the technology. I tweaked it, snuck it in after-hours for testing, and made sure to put it up against various compounds, materials, and climates. All went off without a hitch––well, besides the stray shock here and there. My device could save hundreds if not thousands of lives. Not just in our military but in the already war-torn areas around the world, places others had to return to after their whole world was destroyed by the very thing I was trying to eliminate.

But I will never get it into circulation sitting at a desk while my ass goes numb. That’s why, for what seems like the hundredth time, I am trying to explain to my dad that I can do so much more outside of college.

When the other side of the line is quiet for far too long, I lift my cell phone to see if my dad actually hung up on me, only to find I am still connected, and when my father’s heavy sigh comes through the phone, I’m ready for another resounding No.

“Okay.”

My back goes ram-rod straight, and I sit up on my too short twin bed, stunned into silence. Did I hear him right? I’m not sure if it’s wise to ask, but I have to be sure. “Uh, did you just agree to allow me to quit college?” I cringe, waiting for him to pull the rug out from underneath me.

“Yes.” Apparently, my father has become monosyllabic in his old age. Or my mom is currently giving him the look. Either way, I’m off my bed and tearing the place apart, trying to locate the old gym bag I brought with me two years ago when I first came to stay with Jack and Patricia––a retired couple that my Uncle Kyle knows from his time in the Marines.

I locate the bag, and in my attempt to hold it up as I shove clothes inside the very musty gym bag, my phone falls from my shoulder. Swiping my phone from the floor, I hear the tail end of something my mother says. “What, Mom? I missed that,” I huff, out of breath in my mad sprint to pack.

“I said you will need to give Jack and Pat a heads up and time to process that you’re leaving.” At my indignant groan, my mom brings out her don’t-mess-with-me tone. “Caleb Jacob Marron, you know you have been like a son to the two of them these past two years, and you cannot just pack a bag and say, ‘See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya.’”

I can’t help but laugh at my mother’s old-school lingo. “Mom, seriously? That was not a saying in my generation. I think that was more back in your day.”

“Young man, you are not too big for me to whoop you when you get home.” And though I want to keep laughing at my five-four mother threatening her six-two son, I quiet my mirth.

“You’re right, Mom. I’m sorry. How long do you think I should give them?” I ask.

“I say at least a couple of weeks if you tell them tonight.”

I sigh in relief. “I can do two weeks.” I pause to gather my thoughts before continuing. “Thanks, Mom. I know you won’t admit it, but I know you had a big influence on Dad’s decision.”

She doesn’t speak for a moment, and I let her gather her own thoughts. “Caleb, buddy, your dad is incredibly proud of you for everything you have done in your short life, so don’t take his brooding as a sign of disappointment. He just wants to give you kids the absolute best in life while teaching you that you have to work hard to succeed,” she defends, and I know she’s right. No matter how much my father and I disagree on the subject of college, I know he always has my best interest in mind. He never leaves a conversation between us strained. He ends every conversation with how proud he is of me and how much he loves me.

“I know, Mom, but I hope you both know I’m not making this decision based on selfish reasons,” I promise, and I can hear the smile in my mother’s voice when she speaks.

“We do, buddy. We raised you and Lizzy better than that.” I go to tell her I’m not so sure about my pain-the-ass sister, but her mom intuition kicks in, halting my jab. “And don’t you dare say you’re not sure about Lizzy. We raised you two equally. Lizzy is just a little more––”

“Of a pain in the ass?” I offer and hear my mom chuckle.

“No, Caleb Marron. I was going to say strong-willed.”

At that, I let out a side-splitting laugh. “Strong-willed? Is that what we’re calling it now?” When I hear my mother growl, I tone down my laughter. “Sorry, Mom.”

“No, you’re not, but you are her brother, and it comes with the territory. Just try to be nice to her when you come home. She’s thirteen, and those hormones are raging. I don’t need you making things worse with your brotherly taunts.”

It’s true, Lizzy and I can fight like cats and dogs just like any brother and sister, but it’s all in love. I would do anything for that little blonde ragamuffin, no matter how bitchy she can be. Plus, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a bit scared of my little sister. She may be petite, but that girl has bloodied my nose more than once when I overstepped one of her imaginary lines. But no matter what, I will always be her big brother and therefore her protector. After all, it was a promise I made to myself a long time ago.

“All right, Mom. I’ll do my best, and I’ll go tell Jack and Pat now about leaving. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, buddy. Be safe, and I’ll see you when you get home. Love you.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

I am going home to Texas, home to my family. And God willing, I am going home to an opportunity to save lives.

2

Eight years later

The view from the top floor of Marron House Technologies is one to be envied. Standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows, I can see all of downtown Dallas, and now that night has fallen, the city is lit up like the Las Vegas strip.

At moments like these, I should comment how “I never thought I would be here today,” but I can’t. Since I was eight years old, I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and I started planning my life even then. The moment I came home from college, I hit the ground running.

Unfortunately, officially being an adult still didn’t make a difference to the people that mattered. When it came to giving me a chance to present my work, they just laughed and told me to come back when I had hair on my balls. Frustrated with rejection after rejection, I decided to pull an ace from my sleeve—well, two aces. Since everyone in the tech world still saw me as a snot-nosed kid, I decided to use my father as the face of the product and my Uncle Kyle for his military contacts. After two years of traveling around to different government and military facilities, pitching the Cell-1 IED Disabler, I was able to sell my invention. Now my device is used in our United States Armed forces, and from recent reports, it has been an immense success.

With the device’s success came extreme and sudden wealth, and that new wealth afforded me the ability to build the sleek glass and iron building that is now Marron House Technologies, where not too long ago, The Vineyard––a luxury hotel––stood. The hotel had catered to the elite as well as the scourge of the earth. It once belonged to Reed Ellison, a now dead arms dealer and sex-trafficker—the same dealer who abducted my mother.

So it was only natural that as soon as I had the funds, I bulldozed the piece of shit hotel to the ground and built my shiny new building on top of its metaphorical bones. It was a cleansing of sorts, and I made sure to celebrate by paying off my parents’ and grandparents’ mortgage, then buying my mom and dad the cars they’ve always dreamed of––despite their protest. I even spent some of my wealth on my pain in the ass little sister, throwing her a twenty-first birthday party she will never forget.

I made sure my entire family had stock in Marron House Technologies, and I worked hard so they would want for nothing. I remember insisting my parents help me cut the ribbon at Marron House Technologies’ opening ceremony. Now everyone who walks by looks at my building in awe. It is modern enough to attract the eye with its clean lines and modern décor, but my favorite part? The ability to have every window change from clear to frosted with the flip of a switch.

In my line of work, I can never be too careful. I caught supposed window washers attempting to take photos of the MHT lab only to find out that they were hired by a competing tech company to gather pictures of our latest project. The next day I had an army of security specialists install the new windows.

Of course, I made the usual purchases for myself. I bought a house on the lake and revamped the security system to make it so tight the Pentagon would be easier to break into. The first car I purchased was a Tesla Roadster in candy apple red. She went from 0 to 60 in 1.9 seconds and had a top speed of 250 miles per hour. It was enough to make me hard just looking at her.

I had homes in New York, Colorado, and even overseas in Italy. I had everything I ever wanted at my fingertips—except for the one thing I desired most: Tanish Technologies. That bastard William Tanish had been a thorn in my side ever since I found out he was a buyer of Reed Ellison’s and that he sold his own wife to a cruel bastard that literally scarred her. Sure, I let people believe I was just another asshole that wanted to take over the technology world––which wasn’t necessarily incorrect––but it wasn’t why I wanted Tanish Technologies.

Lucy Tanish had been the young trophy wife of William Tanish, and that sick son-of-a-bitch beat her from day one of their marriage and kept Lucy trapped by his side––presenting her as his adoring wife. After their two-month-old baby girl died of SIDS, Lucy had gone for a drive to get away from Tanish and found herself shoved into the back of a van and sold to a foreign diplomat. Once the diplomat had enough of her, Lucy was given to Reed—out of a sign of “goodwill”—to serve in his household. And that’s where she met my mother.

The two of them became friends, and that friendship has lasted eighteen years now. The night my mother was rescued, Tanish was one of the many lowlives eventually indicted on a whole host of charges, but the bastard was able to beat them all. He claimed he had no idea of Reed’s business dealings, and unfortunately, there wasn’t enough evidence to convict him. But his quick win didn’t end up making a difference when five years ago, Tanish was found shot execution-style on the front lawn of his ten-million-dollar estate outside Westlake.

What did that mean for Tanish Technologies? Because he never remarried, that meant Lucy, legally still his wife, inherited everything, including the controlling interest of Tanish Technologies.

She took the money––payment for her years of loyal service––but refused to do anything with the shares. I took that as my golden opportunity to buy those shares from her and destroy Tanish Technologies, but Lucy shocked the hell out of me by refusing to sell them to me––stating that she wanted to control something of William’s for once in her life.

Since Lucy refused to act as CEO, the company was run by the board members and an interim CEO. Still, no one could have predicted that soon after Tanish’s death, a woman named Margaret Stone would step forward and tell the world that her daughter, Talia Stone, was the bastard child of one William Tanish. Margaret was a maid in Tanish’s household, and when little Talia was born, both the mother and child were sent away with a large sum of cash.

After a confirmed paternity test, Margaret Stone took Lucy to court and demanded half of the inheritance and the majority shares of Tanish Technologies. Being the amazing woman she is, Lucy agreed to hand over half the inheritance. Still, she would only allow Talia to have twenty-five of the fifty-one shares, allowing Lucy to retain controlling interest. Reluctantly the Stones settled, and Talia Stone––knowing that Lucy would not lift a finger to help the company––began working to take over and recreate Tanish Technologies.

But not if I have anything to do with it.

Lucy had become another aunt to me, so I vowed to destroy Tanish’s legacy, and if that meant taking little miss Talia Stone down too, then so be it. Besides, she would need an act of God to save the floundering tech company. Tanish’s suspected involvement in sex-trafficking and the bullet to his head tanked T.T. stock. The fact that their doors haven’t already been shut is a miracle.

Before Talia showed up on the scene, the board was ready to find a buyer, but no one would touch the company with a hundred-foot pole––until me. I was prepared to swoop in and take over when suddenly the board was fired, and Talia––with the help of a team of lawyers––restructured the entire board in less than a year. Talia quickly made sure that she became the face of T.T.

And what a face it is: heart-shaped, defined cheekbones, plump, bee-stung lips, golden blond hair, and the most incredible mixture of blue-green eyes. Then there is that body. It was made for sin. With a deep curve to her waist, soft hips made for gripping during wild rounds of fucking, and perfect breasts made to fit in my hands, she looks like she should be in magazines instead of a board room. But no matter how beautiful, she is the enemy, trying to save a sexual fiend’s company from drowning, and I can’t allow that. It doesn’t matter how quickly she took over or how much she is turning the company around. I will have Tanish Technologies by this time next year. There is no other option.

Little is known about Talia Stone, but what I did find I have to admit is impressive. After Tanish sent them away, they moved to Brian, Texas, where Talia snagged a scholarship to Texas A&M, where she ended up graduating with her Master’s in business. Smart and sexy.

My cell phone buzzing on my desk pulls me from my thoughts. When I see the name flash across the screen, I can’t help my goofy grin. “Hey, my old friend. You call to tell me you finally decided to grace me with your presence?”

“O’Hanna’s tonight. Eight o’clock. See you then.” Short and to the point. That summed up Jax Townsend.

Jax and I grew up together and had many of the same classes in school––until I skipped fifth grade. We would always make up for the lost time after school by doing all sorts of shit that could have gotten us killed.

While Jax was built more for the physical side of things, I was more on the brainy side––not that he couldn’t outsmart a bully or anyone else who stepped up to him. He just had a knack for the physical in contrast to my mental.

Jax Townsend is a good guy. I’ve missed my old friend, and I am ready for us to tear up the town.

We sit at the worn, laminate tabletop bar with a beer in our hands. I want to buy the guy something more stout and one for each tour he did overseas, but Jax says that a good old-fashioned draft beer is exactly what he needs. So we sit with our skunk beer and laugh about the times we nearly blew up my dad’s garage and the time he almost shot his younger brother with his pellet gun when the dumb kid ran out in front of him while trying to catch their old Labrador Retriever.

Jax is the same age as me, but while I was headed off to MIT, Jax was still a junior in high school. We lost touch after I left, but sitting here reminiscing, it’s like that time apart never happened. Jax is a little quieter than he used to be, and he definitely wasn’t that skinny bean-pole of a kid he was in high school. I am a big dude, standing at six-two and stacked with lean muscle, but Jax is a beast. At six-three and two-hundred and twenty pounds of rock-solid muscle, clean shaved head, and mocha skin, Jax is a machine made for battle.

“So, you want to hit a club to celebrate, or are you more of an ice cream and rom-com type of gal these days?” I ask, bumping his shoulder with mine, laughing at his attempt to look cross with me. Jax is a different breed of guy. Growing up, he was the one picking up hurt animals and nursing them back to health, carrying girls’ books to classes. Not so he would get laid––well, not just to get laid––but out of the kindness of his heart.

“How’s your sister?” he asks, mischief in his dark eyes. At the mention of my sister, I narrow my eyes at him, and he gives me a hearty laugh. “Not so funny when you’re the one being teased, huh?” Jax knows my sister somehow ended up being a beauty, and he knows the question will rile me up. I try to play it off with a shrug and wait for him to respond to my original question. “Usually, I would say hell no. None of that bullshit ever appealed to me, but what else do I have going on?” He sighs.

From what he told me, Jax’s family basically disowned him when he joined the Army. They expected Jax to follow in their footsteps of running the local diner that had been passed down, but Jax stuck to his guns and left for training a week later.

“Hey, man, I’m here, and you know my parents are going to freak the fuck out when they see you. You’re like another son to them. Plus, Uncle Kyle is an ex-marine, so you’ll have a war story buddy to talk to.” At the mention of my parents, Jax’s lips tip up into a wide grin.

During our years in high school, Jax was always running over to our house when things got rough at home, and my parents would take him in, feed him, and give him the love he didn’t seem to get at home.

“Yeah, I’m looking forward to seeing them too. Your mom’s gonna whip my hide when she finds out I’ve been home a week and haven’t called.” He whistles. He isn’t wrong. My mom makes sure to keep in contact with Jax as much as possible while he is overseas, and his unit’s flag flies in their yard every day.

“Yeah, I love you, brother, but I’m not getting in the middle of that volcano when it erupts.” I laugh.

“Thanks a lot, asshole.” He smirks.

I slap him on the back, then slam down my beer on the decaying bartop. “Anytime, man. Now, let’s go see what kind of trouble we can get into.”

3

Talia

The music thumping through the sound system is so loud my eardrums are about to burst, and I will gladly welcome the peaceful silence when they do. I’m not necessarily picky about music, but I prefer not to hear the same damn beat over and over again. I like progression, hooks, rhythm. None of which are currently playing over the speakers of the otherwise stylish and rather posh nightclub.

It is Friday night, and a couple of my girlfriends insisted I stop working for the night and go out with them to a new club that one of them had booty-called their way into.

So here I am sitting on the black leather couch, drinking my whiskey, and bobbing my head to the “music”––pretending to enjoy my surroundings.

I hate nightclubs, but not because I am a prude or don’t like to have fun. No, I hate them because that’s where twenty-six-year-old females go on Friday nights. And since my face is now fodder for the gossip rags, that’s where the paparazzi goes to try and find me doing something scandalous. As they say, “Like father, like daughter.”

It is bullshit, though. I never knew William Tanish, and I am disgusted with the things he is said to have done. I battled my mother for years, begging her not to come forward, but she dug her heels in and went behind my back, telling the world who I am. When I approached her about it, she told me she had cancer and needed money for treatment. I insisted that I would find another way, but she refused to budge on the matter. So I gave in. Besides, by that point, the cat was already out of the bag. And less than six months later, my mother died of brain cancer.

Everyone expected me to take Tanish Technologies and sell it to the highest bidder, but I only held twenty-five shares of the fifty-one percent Tanish once held. But even if I could sell T.T.––I wouldn’t. I want to rescue the failing tech company and do some good with it.

I was in the middle of re-branding the company when a young bigshot put in a ridiculous and quite insulting bid on the company, to which I sent a big middle finger back via a denial email. I would turn Tanish Technologies into Stone Technologies as long as the condescending but admittedly scorching hot Caleb Marron would back off.

Caleb Jacob Marron is apparently a genius of our time when it came to military technology, and he holds some of the most prominent and sought-after government contracts out there—including some used in the White House. I hate the man with a passion but respect the hell out of him. The two conflicting emotions drive me nuts—that and the fact that his handsome face is plastered everywhere.

He’s in the news smiling at the paparazzi or with his arm around some love-struck young women. He’s been photographed escorting his admittedly beautiful mother to lunch or to the occasional charity event. Through my research of the man, I found out Pierce Marron––Caleb’s father––is the Associate Director of the cybersecurity sector of the local FBI office in Dallas. He is also the face of Caleb’s first invention, the Cell-1 IED Disabler. Caleb may think we’re all idiots, but I knew it was Caleb’s invention––not his father’s––from the moment I read his bio.

As much as I despise the man, I can’t deny he is incredibly attractive. A Men’s Health article last year––complete with mouth-watering photos––took readers through his daily workout. His skin shone with sweat, and his sinewy biceps bulged under the heavy weights he lifted. His eight-pack led to that perfect V that made every girl’s tongue wag. And those lips? They were the type you could imagine biting while he made you come harder than you thought possible. He had a Romanesque nose and tan skin covered in a close-cropped beard, shaggy brown hair, usually swept back and kept short on the sides. But what stood out the most were his hypnotic green eyes. I caught myself wondering more than once how it would feel to have those eyes land on me with desire, but I shut that shit down fast.

He is the enemy, and to a man like Caleb Marron, when Tanish Technologies is officially Stone Technologies––and safe from his greedy hands––it will be like taking his balls right from his body.

A smile stretches my lips at the thought of the big strong man throwing a hissy fit when I bring the company back from the dead.

“That’s what I’m talking about, girl! Smile! No resting bitch face tonight. There are some fine ass guys out tonight, so show them your pearly whites and go get you some dick!” Felicia, my B.F.F, practically screams over the music and right in my ear. Leaning back against the leather sofa, I give my very tipsy friend two thumbs up and an over-the-top smile.

With a shimmy of her more than generous breasts, Felicia stands and grabs my hand. She jerks so hard, I have to quickly place my drink down before it sloshes all over my little black dress and gold stilettos. She drags me behind her as she moves us toward the dance floor, and I know there’s no fighting her when she’s in “dicktator” mode––her word, not mine.

We reach the dance floor right as a bachelorette party shows up and takes over the floor, and we have no choice but to squeeze close together. I’m pondering how the hell you actually dance to techno when suddenly the music stops, and a booming male voice comes over the speakers.

“Okay, ladies and gentlemen. It’s ten o’clock, and you know what that means!” the DJ bellows, and I look around as everyone, including Felicia, yells in unison, “Time to crank it up!”

“You know it, and we have a special guest in the house tonight. Give it up for the owner of Club Domain: Mr. Caleb Marron!” As the D.J. stretches Caleb’s surname out for what seems like forever, my heart rate picks up, and I find myself searching the crowd. When I don’t see him, I turn to Felicia––ready to lay into her for bringing me to enemy territory––when my tirade is halted by a set of electric green eyes boring into me from the elevated D.J. booth. The smile meant for the camera phones currently going off slips from his lips, and a knowing smirk replaces it.

Shit!

“Oh, my God, I had no idea he would be here tonight! Wooo, yeah, baby, give momma some of that!” Felicia throws her hands up in the air going along with all the other star-struck fools in the club.

As the music switches to the latest hip-hop fad, I’m temporarily relieved I no longer have to listen to the “boots and pants and boots and pants” beat of techno, but that relief goes out the window when I still feel his eyes on me.

I grab Felicia’s arm in an attempt to get her off the dance floor, but apparently, she takes that as a sign that I want to dance because she grabs my hips and starts bumping and grinding against me. In her now drunken state, her movements are jerky and throw me off balance.

I’m trying to detach her hands when she gets pushed into me, and though she’s able to steady herself, I trip over my own feet. I prepare myself to ass plant, but thankfully I’m saved by a hard chest and a pair of strong arms. Unfortunately, I know precisely whose chest is against my back and whose arms are now wrapped around me. Call it a feeling.

I go to spring out of Caleb’s arms, but I’m held tight by steel bands around my waist. “Careful, little girl. There are wolves out tonight.” I feel his breath on my ear, and I know it shouldn’t, but his voice makes my nipples harden and my clit zing. When I realize the effect he’s having on my sex-starved body, I try to pry his hands away, but he just chuckles at my feeble attempt.

I growl and try to stomp on his foot with my spiked heel, but he anticipates my move, and with a hearty laugh, he pulls his foot away just in time. My face begins to flush with rage and embarrassment, and maybe a little bit of desire when Caleb’s hips begin to swivel, taking mine along with them. Our bodies are plastered together, and there’s no way I’ll be able to free myself from his vise-like grip, so I decide not to fight his hold.

When he feels my body loosen a little, one hand moves to my hip while the other lands on my stomach, coming intimately close to the top of my mound. The heat of his hands through the thin material of my dress begins messing with my head. I inhale deeply to center myself but realize my mistake when his earthy cologne, body wash––or whatever the hell he’s wearing––has my girly parts firing off. My nipples become painfully hard, my breathing becomes heavy, and as our bodies sway in tandem, I can feel I’m not the only one being affected by our dance.

Caleb’s lips graze my cheek as the hand on my hip moves to my throat, the dominant hold eliciting a moan from my lips. “See, little girl, you’ll never be able to fight me. I could make you come right now with a flick of my wrist.” His hand at my belly twitches at his words. “And that makes you weak. I control my world and everything in it. Now that seems to include you, Tanish,” he says, his tone dripping with disgust at the surname. It’s exactly what I need to bring myself out of my lust-fogged mind.

I turn in his arms, smile, then run my fingers lightly over his chest, and I don’t miss the stuttered breath he takes at my touch. I know that look on his face. And it’s definitely not disgust. When my exploring fingers reach his belt, I stop before looking up at him through thick lashes. With our eyes firmly locked on each other’s, my hand drifts lower to his impressive erection. My skin sparks like wildfire when I feel a low growl leave his chest.

Lifting to my tippy toes, I bring my crimson painted lips to his ear, making sure to leave my stain on his lobe. “Looks like I’m not the only one who could come at any moment.” I run my fingers up and down his slack-covered cock, and his pupils dilate. “And that makes you weak. If you think you control everything in your world, especially me, you’re either very stupid,” I taunt, “or very naïve, Marron.” I squeeze him in my hand, then growl my next words. “And don’t ever call me by that fucking name again.” With one last squeeze, I turn and walk away.

4

Caleb

Fuck, that woman is sexy.

And the biggest pain in the ass.

Walking back to the VIP table where Jax sits scanning his surroundings, I can’t help but glance in the direction Talia went. I can still see her hips swaying, her pert ass flexing as she walked away in those sky-high gold heels, and the brief backward glance she gave me before disappearing into the crowd.

Damn sexy woman.

When I approach our table, Jax smirks around the lip of his beer bottle as he takes a long swig. Plopping down next to him, I let out a long sigh.

“Strike out?” he asks.

I pick up my whiskey and shrug. “I got her hot and bothered, so I count it as a win.”

Jax looks at me in confusion. “How is it a win if you don’t finish the game?”

Good fucking question. “She’s the enemy. She’s Tanish’s bastard daughter.”

As soon as I say the name, recognition clouds Jax’s brown eyes, his expression turning severe. Jax may have been overseas for years, but he knows about William Tanish and his involvement with Reed Ellison. How exactly? I don’t know, and the one time I asked, he told me it wasn’t any of my concern. So I let sleeping dogs lie.

I remember having to lie to Jax during those weeks my mom was held captive. I told him she was helping a sick friend. Then about a week after my mother’s rescue, he came over unexpectedly and caught my mom crying in the kitchen. At that point, my father had no choice but to tell him the cliff notes of what happened. Jax had broken down, immediately ran to my mother, and cried himself to sleep in her arms.

“You know I would never talk shit about a woman, but you need to leave that piece of trouble alone. I get she’s hot, but don’t go dipping your dick inside enemy territory.”

Bringing my drink to my lips, I level him with a firm look. Taking a deep swig, I swallow the surge of anger at my friend. “What the fuck did I just say? I just said she’s the enemy. I was fucking with her, showing her how weak she is against me,” I clip, and with a nod, Jax goes back to scanning the room.

The bottle blonde on my lap rubs her fake tits up and down my chest like a fucking cat in heat, and her lips that have seen one too many collagen needles kiss down my neck––leaving behind a hideous magenta color. Usually, I wouldn’t give a shit about these details. I would just take her to my office upstairs and fuck her until she screamed for mercy. But instead of getting hard at the thought of those plump lips around my cock—sucking me like a damn leech—I’m completely soft. I would like to think it’s all the alcohol I’ve consumed, but I know from experience no amount of alcohol could keep my dick from getting what he wants.

So I have to wonder why I’m not “rising” to the occasion. I lean my head back against the booth as the blonde grinds her ass against my dick. Letting out a defeated sigh, I close my eyes and suddenly see perky round tits in a snug black dress, deep curves, and blue-green eyes. Fuck, the scent of arousal that emanated from Talia Stone’s pores at my dominant hold was enough to nearly have me coming in my pants.

With the memory of her scent fresh in my brain, my dick decides what it wants, but that fucker ain’t getting it. So I do the next best thing. I grab the blonde’s hips and guide her off my lap before telling Jax I’ll be back. He just gives me a nod and goes back to talking to the beautiful brunette next to him.

I drag the blonde up a set of metal stairs to the heavy steel door that guards my office. After scanning my hand, I swing the door open, and once inside, her back connects with the cold steel door as my chest collides with her breasts, and my fingers grip her roots and wrench her head back to make sure I have her complete attention.

“I’m going to fuck you hard and fast, and I don’t really give a shit if you come. This is for me, not you. Understand?” She licks her lips and tries to nod, but my grip is too tight. “Say it. Say it or get the fuck out of my office,” I growl.

“I understand. This is for you, not me.” Her words are breathy, and her chest pumps with shallow breaths.

Pulling a condom from my wallet, I hold it in front of her lips. “Open,” I order, and when she does as she’s told, I place the condom on her bottom lip. She instinctually closes her mouth––holding the condom in place. Without further preamble, I lift her skimpy red dress and rip away her barely-there thong. She moans around the condom at the aggressive move.

I make quick work of undoing my belt and lowering my slacks just enough to let my cock spring free. Taking the condom from her lips, I sheath myself, then lift her by her thighs. Her legs wrap around my hips, and without even making sure she’s ready, I slam into her. Her scream of pain and ecstasy echoes throughout my office, and I want to tell her to shut the fuck up, but that would require me to actually speak to her, and right now, I’m not fucking the no-name blonde with the fake everything.

Right now, I’m fucking the natural golden blonde. The one with lush tits and an apple-shaped ass. I’m ramming my cock into the smart-ass, challenging as hell, blue-eyed she-devil, who’s driving me fucking mad. I imagine Talia’s moans of passion, her eyes burrowing into mine as she comes on my dick, and the fact that I’m fantasizing about her pisses me the fuck off.

My thrusts are brutal as I pump into the poor woman taking my wrath. I shouldn’t want to even look at Talia, let alone fuck her, but I can’t seem to help my desire for just that. And when I imagine it’s Talia’s pussy tightening around my cock, and Talia’s voice screaming my name, I come. I come with her name on my lips, and if the woman currently milking my cock with her orgasm notices, she doesn’t say.

Mentally shaking myself from the vision of Talia, I pull out of the blonde and drop her legs before she’s recovered from her climax, and when she nearly collapses, I don’t help. After tucking my cock back into my slacks and buckling my belt, I walk over to my large glass desk, making sure to tie off the condom and discard it in the wastebasket.

I can hear the woman adjusting her dress and attempting to pull herself together, and I don’t want to look at her. It will just remind me that she wasn’t the one I wanted to be inside. I’ve always been a generous lover, and though I like to dominate, I am still considerate of my partner’s aftercare. But right now, I don’t give a shit.

Instead, I sit in my tall, black ergonomic desk chair and open my laptop––my way of dismissing her without having to actually speak to her. However, when I feel her eyes on me, I’m forced to address her. “Thanks. You can go now. Tell Devon to get you a drink on me.” I never lift my eyes from my laptop, and when I hear her huff of anger, then the sound of the door slamming, I let out a sigh of relief and lean my head back against my chair.

After enough time has passed, I close my laptop and head back to the VIP section, where Jax is now sitting alone. “Hey, man, where did your girl go?”

He lifts his chin over to the bachelorette party that came in earlier. “She had to go help stop her very drunk friend from humping every guy in sight.”

I laugh as the drunk bride in question tries to plant a sloppy kiss on one of my very married bouncer’s lips. “Well, I think Danny can handle her. You ready to jet?” Standing to his full six-three height, he rubs his hand down his thighs then twists his abdomen from side to side. “Your back hurting you, old man?” I tease, and his returning sad smile tells me that my joke may not be too far off.

My smile drops as I ponder the fact that Jax may be suffering, and when I go to say something, he throws a beefy arm around my head and puts me in a headlock. As I struggle and yell for the bastard to let up, I can’t help but laugh––just like old times. This guy may have brought some demons back with him, but deep inside, he’s still the same guy that protected me against bullies all those years ago.

When he finally lets go of my head, I straighten and see two of my bouncers pushing through the swarm of bodies. Holding up a hand to halt their approach, I let them know I’m good. “Alright, you fucking brute, let’s get our asses out of here.”

Jax smirks at the two bouncers, then gives me a mischievous look. “Oh, come on, you don’t want to see me spank Larry and Mo’s ass in a fight?”

I screw my lips up at the thought. Okay, he didn’t mean literally spank them. “No, thanks, man. Not sure I can handle your kinky side.”

He lets out a deep booming laugh and slings his arm over my shoulder. We head out the back exit to my steel grey Dodge Hellcat––another mistress of mine.

Handing my keys to Jax, we laugh and take jabs at each other when Jax suddenly stops, and his eyes focus on something behind me. I turn to see what has caught his attention when the barrel of a gun comes so close to my face that I nearly go cross-eyed looking at it. Instinctually I raise my hands in surrender, but it’s only to throw the masked gunmen off.

I’ve been trained in various fighting disciplines and weaponry by three of the strongest people I know––my father, uncle, and mother––so taking this guy down is nothing, even if he wasn’t a scrawny piece of shit.

Most people right about now would be begging for their life, but I just smile at the man. “Evening. So, to whom do I owe the pleasure of this hold-up?” I’m a complete smart-ass, and I know I should just disarm him and get it over with, but I’ve always loved playing with fire.

The guy’s eyes shift back and forth, and he licks his crusty lips. “It’s not a hold-up…” he stammers.

I tilt my head in mock curiosity. “No? Well, then am I free to go, or do I need to wait for you to start monologuing your evil plan before you get to the fucking point?”

I’m starting to get pissed when the man finally speaks. “I’m here to warn you. Back the hell––” The guy never finishes his sentence. Jax barrels into the gunman’s side, dropping him hard to the asphalt. The gun goes flying, and I’m confident Jax has this punk under control.

Jax turns the guy to his back, but the scrawny motherfucker is able to grab a switchblade from his boot. “Jax, watch the—” The knife slices across Jax’s face, and I lunge to help my friend. However, it only serves to distract Jax, and the man takes advantage by kneeing Jax in the balls, and when Jax leans forward in pain, the guy uses the lack of weight on his legs to wiggle from beneath him.

Grabbing the discarded gun, the man points it straight at me, and the sound of the weapon firing is deafening. I wait for the searing pain of a bullet entering my body, but all I feel is the pain of my body hitting the ground, and all 220 pounds of Jax’s body lying on top of me.

And when I look down to see my friend not moving, all I feel is the immense fear and anguish that comes with losing someone I love.

5

Two years later

Caleb

“So your mom tells me Marron House Security has their first celebrity client. That’s pretty impressive for only being operational for a year.” My dad’s voice is full of pride, and I smile at his praise. We are all sitting around the large dining room table, enjoying a home-cooked meal made with love by my mother.

“Yeah, I got pretty lucky with that one. If it hadn’t been for Lucy and her connections, I’m not sure I would have gotten him on board.” I shrug.

“No, Caleb. I spoke to Lucy, and all she said was if her friend’s client ever felt he needed private security, that she knew someone she trusted. But you are the ones who sold Donovan Masters on using your company,” she asserts.

“Honestly, Jax did all the work. I was there to back him up, but he was in his element and knocked it out of the park.” I swing my eyes to the man who saved my life two years prior and clasp his bulky shoulder. “He saved my ass again.” I laugh while Jax just rolls his eyes.

The night the scrawny would-be assassin pointed his gun at me was one I would never forget. Jax had taken a bullet for me, and when he was rushed into surgery, I sat in that waiting room chair with blood on my shirt, praying for God not to take my friend from me. After four hours of surgery––and a hairy moment where Jax’s heart stopped––the big guy finally pulled through. Only then did I let my tears fall. That night also solidified the thought that I could be doing so much more with my mind, technology, and money.

After taking Jax into my home to recuperate, I asked him to help me start a personal security firm. At first, I could see the reluctance on his face, and I couldn’t blame the guy. He had done countless tours overseas, and his second week back stateside, he gets shot. So I was ready to accept him telling me to fuck off.

Instead, he flashed me a huge grin and gave me a couple of names of guys who he toured with and who were now civilians. And after speaking with Drake Mears and Tye Bowman, I had my dream team. We were a small operation with only the two guards and Jax and me as Co-CEOs, but we were soon able to make a name for ourselves in the corporate world, and clients started to flow in.

Now, Marron House Security employs hundreds of people in various roles: personal guards, consultants, and even some employees from Marron House Technologies who have the opportunity to move over if they choose. We found a small abandoned textile building in an isolated area on the outskirts of Fort Worth as our base of operations. The place needed a lot of work, and with a little cash flashed around, the once decaying building rose from the ashes and now housed Jax and my new venture.

M.H.T is still my main focus and requires most of my attention. So I leave Marron House Security to Jax and have every confidence in him running the place with military-like precision.

The only downside to building my new business: I had to put my mission to destroy Tanish Technologies on the back burner. Unfortunately, without my constant interference, the company picked up speed and is now relabeled as Stone Technologies, but what is the saying? Putting lipstick on a pig?

Now that everything is running smoothly at M.H.S., I can pick up where I left off. With a few minor tweaks.

“Yeah, well, don’t make a habit of it. I don’t need people thinking I like you or anything.” Jax winks.

My mom swats his arm, and my dad just laughs. Jax would never boast about what he’s done for me, and sometimes I believe it even makes him uncomfortable. Jax is another one of those people added to my list of heroes—next to my mother, father, and uncle.

“Well, I am very proud of both you boys. I’m proud of all my kids.” My mother beams, and Jax blushes at being referred to as one of her kids. However, my mother’s touching moment is broken by a very un-ladylike snort from Lizzy.

Scowling at my annoying little sister, I ask, “What was that for?”

She shrugs and picks imaginary lint from her sleeve. “Nothing,” Lizzy says dismissively.

“Elizabeth Marie Marron, you know very well your dad and I are very proud of all three of you. Don’t you dare think otherwise.” I can see Lizzy wants to roll her eyes at my mother but thinks better of it when my mom gives her the I-dare-you look.

“Mom, I’m not saying you’re not proud of me too. I just think if these buttmunches would get over themselves and hire me, I could be kicking ass and taking names.” She crosses her arms over her chest and eyes each of us.

Groaning, I rub my bearded chin in aggravation. Lizzy has been on my ass to hire her since she heard about me starting up M.H.S. Lizzy signed up for the police academy at twenty and quickly rose to the top of her class. Now at the young age of twenty-three, she is a bad-ass cop. Unfortunately, her way of taking on the bad guys has gotten her into hot water more than a few times.

Fortunately, it is never anything that causes legal issues––just her captain tearing her a new ass from time to time. He knows she is the best thing to happen to their precinct, but he can’t condone Lizzy breaking perps’ arms from tackling them to the ground or giving smart-ass quips as she tasered their ass––or in one case, their balls.

“Liz, come on. I already told you, I just don’t think it would be a good fit.” Truthfully, I just don’t want my little sister in the line of fire. Yes, she is in danger every day she goes to work, but I’m not the one putting her in that danger. Since I was eight years old, I swore to protect my family, and intentionally putting my kid sister in danger isn’t part of that equation. It just doesn’t compute in my head, so I don’t understand why she can’t let this shit go.

“Are you kidding me? Are you seriously being a sexist pig right now?” Lizzy’s look of disgust makes me crack up.

“Seriously? You know I am the last guy to be sexist. That’s not my reasoning, and you know it,” I finish, stone-faced.

When she realizes my meaning, her face falls, and her eyes soften in understanding. “Caleb, I get it. I really do, but I’ve had the same training you have and can shoot and fight with the best of them. Hell, think about it. Two years ago, you had a gun pulled on you, and you’re not even in a high-risk profession.”

At her statement, I glance at my father, and he shakes his head slightly. Lizzy has no idea of the dangers my profession came with. People literally steal, kidnap, and even kill just to find that one secret that could set their technology on fire. We are talking about a multi-billion dollar industry, and people are desperate to have it all.

When I look to Jax for back-up against Lizzy, I find he’s no help at all. “I think she can handle it, man. I know your concerns, and that’s why I would personally train her and,” he looks Lizzy square in the eye, “I won’t go easy on her. If anything, I will work her harder than any other recruits.” Jax’s eyes swing back to mine, and I see the promise in them, the vow to watch over her.

Scratching my bearded chin, I mull over the different ways I could keep Lizzy busy and out of harm’s way.

I could have Jax bog her down with a ton of admin shit or maybe put her “in charge” of teaching new recruits. But in the end, I know she would never fall for any of that, so with a heavy sigh, I give in. “Okay, fine. You can interview for a personal security position.” Lizzy starts wiggling in her chair while fist-pumping the air, but I hold up my hand to stop her premature victory. “But, there are stipulations, and if you don’t follow each one down to the letter, you’re done.”

Lizzy nods exaggeratedly and flaps her hands in excitement. “Absolutely! What stipulations? Lay em’ on me!”

I lift a finger. “One: like Jax said, he will be the one to put you through the interview process––”

“Done. What else?” Lizzy interrupts, and at my reprimanding look, she mimes zipping her lips.

I hold up another finger. “Two: you will not go against any procedures that he deems best for your safety.” I see she wants to argue, so I add, “Within reason.” With that, she smiles, then points to her mouth, silently asking to speak. “Go ahead, you nutcase,” I laugh.

She unzips her lips, then jumps out of her chair and grabs me around the head, smashing the side of my head against her breasts. I struggle to get out of her hold because no man’s face should be shoved into his sister’s cleavage.

“Liz, stop! I don’t want your boobs in my face.” When I try to push her away, she just clutches me harder.

“Oh, come on, big bro, my boobs are fantastic. Let me love you,” she teases, and I hear my parents snicker.

I feel like I’m about to vomit when she finally eases up and heads for Jax, and his eyes widen so big it’s comical. She puts him in the same headlock, and though I know he would never admit it, I don’t think he hates it––he is a man after all.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you. I will be your best recruit, and people will be asking for me by name. I know it.” She squeezes Jax’s bald head tighter, and his eyes nearly bug out of his head when she leans down and kisses his shiny head.

Both my parents break out into fits of laughter at Jax’s apparent discomfort, and it only spurs Lizzy’s celebration. Finally letting go of Jax, she starts shadow boxing and bobbing and weaving around the dinner table.

Scrubbing my hands over my face, I look up to the ceiling and ask God for strength. My annoying little sister is about to become a part of my world, and I have to let her. When I cast my eyes from my sister––who is now doing the running man––to land on Jax, I find him already staring at me. And the understanding that passes between us lifts some of the weight from my shoulders.

My sister may have had someone watching her back, being a cop, but she’s never had someone like Jax watching over her. I have a feeling she is going to learn what a two-hundred and twenty-pound backpack feels like. On the other hand, Jax is going to have to channel the patience of Mother Teresa. My baby sister is a handful on her best days. Put her in a room with someone trying to control her, and she’s a certified category five tornado.

While rinsing the plates and putting them in the dishwasher after dinner, I watch Lizzy and Jax chatting in the living room. Lizzy gestures wildly with her hands, nearly clocking Jax a few times, and I have to smile at her excitement.

“I think what you’re doing for Lizzy is wonderful, Caleb,” my mother says, coming up next to me and handing me more dishes. “I was always so proud of her for following her dream of becoming a cop, but I could see that there was a part of her that needed more.” She pauses, then takes a deep breath and continues. “She was so young when I was taken, so I always thought that it wouldn’t leave a lasting impression on her, but I’m starting to think—” She trails off, never finishing her sentence.

No matter how ridiculous we tell her it is, my mother always feels guilty when Lizzy or I have nightmares after her abduction. I would hear her crying to my father at night, saying that if she had been stronger, and if she had fought harder, then she could’ve been there for us. And no matter what my father tells her, no matter how many times he reassures her, she always carries that weight on her shoulders.

“Mom, don’t start this again. There was nothing you could do. Mine and Lizzy’s past issues have nothing to do with anything you did or didn’t do and everything to do with what that bastard Reed Ellison did.” I know my tone is harsh, but I can’t help it. I won’t let my own mother––who is the strongest woman I’ve ever known––think that she has any fault in the psychological issues that motherfucker brought upon us.

When she lifts her eyes to mine, and they cloud with unshed tears, I take her in my arms and squeeze her close to me.

“What’s going on?” My father’s commanding voice pulls my mother’s and my attention. “Alexis, baby, you okay?” My mother lifts her head at his concerned tone and gives him a watery smile, and his eyes instantly soften. When he opens his arms in silent command, she rushes to him, burying her head in his chest.

For the first six years of my life, my parents were at each other’s throats most days. It wasn’t until I was around seven years old that something changed, and their marriage became one to be envied. On the off chance I ever got married, I had the perfect model for what I would want my marriage to look like. But honestly, I enjoy my freedom too much. Add in the fact that my brain just doesn’t work like other people’s does. Other than my family, people don’t seem to understand me, and in return, I can’t relate to them. My family are the only ones who truly understood that my personality isn’t intentionally dickish––well, most of the time––and that I am just one to get straight to the point. My brain doesn’t have time to carve through complex emotions and false words. So I fulfill my physical desires when needed and otherwise leave the human race alone.

I watch my father hold my mother like she is his lifeline, and I feel a swell of gratitude for them both. Their love and devotion to each other made our childhood a dream come to life. We weren’t rich, we didn’t take expensive trips, and we didn’t get the latest technologies when they came out, but Lizzy and I wanted for nothing because our parents gave us so much more than any amount of stuff could.

I’m ripped from my musings when a solid fist lands on my bicep. “Once I blow that interview out of the water, you’re never gonna get rid of me, big bro,” Lizzy beams.

Rolling my eyes, I shut the dishwasher before addressing her. “Good thing I’m mostly at M.H.T. then, huh? You’re actually Jax’s problem at this point.” I shrug as though my baby sister coming on board with my security company is no big deal when secretly, I am sweating bullets. I know Jax wouldn’t even consider her for the position if he didn’t believe she was capable of it, but regardless she is my little sister, my flesh and blood, and I will always be concerned with her safety.

After all, I promised myself twenty years ago that no one I loved would ever be taken from me again. And yes, that includes younger, annoying, bratty little sisters.

6

Talia

You know those times in your life when you want to stomp your foot and throw yourself on the ground like a toddler, kicking and screaming because the world isn’t doing what you want it to do? Even though you’re a 28 year old grown-ass woman? Well, looking down at the quarterly numbers for Stone Technologies is one of those times for me.

It took me two years to re-brand this company, and it seems that’s all I’ve accomplished. Yes, I guess you could say I naively thought getting rid of Tanish’s name alone would give us a big boost––even with Lucy Tanish hanging on to the majority shares. But even though our numbers have improved, it is definitely not enough. I have already pushed the envelope by firing the board and re-branding without the widow Tanish’s permission, but I had no other choice.

Now it seems Caleb Marron and Lucy Tanish aren’t the only roadblocks in my way. No, this roadblock comes in the form of a name that is forever tarnished. Add on top of that, the shoddy––and very often faulty technology put out by said name––and I have a sinking ship.

When I first took over Tanish Technologies, I immediately fired the board, thinking they were too narrow-minded to take this company to the next level—only to find out they are the tip of the iceberg. Soon after taking over, companies that Tanish sold to started either not renewing their contracts or got their lawyers involved to threaten to take us to court if we didn’t let them out of their contracts. Those were our choices. And with half of Tanish’s estate going to his widow and my inheritance going right back into the company, we had no choice but to let them go. And who did they run to? Caleb-fucking-Marron.

Two years ago, the assassination attempt against Caleb Marron shook the technology world, and part of me felt for the guy, especially after reading that his best friend and Army veteran Jax Townsend was shot while saving Caleb’s life. And though his interference with Tanish Technologies has decreased in the wake of the assassination attempt, Caleb shows no signs of slowing down when it comes to taking over the technology world. He has gobbled up every former client of mine and made them his own, and it pisses me the fuck off, especially when even after two years, I still can’t get that night at Club Domain out of my head.

Trying to focus on what my board members are saying, I mentally shake myself to clear that night from my brain––at least until the next time it creeps its way back in.

“I just don’t see a way around either closing our doors or letting someone buy us out. Granted, we won’t get top dollar for this company. Still, since the numbers are increasing, we may be able to at least come out flush and not personally bankrupt,” Johnathan Crawley, one of S.T.’s department directors, says, and the thought of closing our doors or selling to the highest bidder does not sit right with me. “Talia–” I swing my eyes to him, and my scolding look at the informal way he addressed me has him clearing his throat before continuing. “Miss Stone. We all appreciate what you’re trying to do with this company. Hell, we even admire the set of balls you have for even taking over, but looking at these numbers and the work that still has to be done to undo what Tanish has already set into motion––” He shakes his head in defeat. “I just don’t see a way through this without those 26 shares.”

Dropping the papers to the mahogany conference table, I swivel my chair to the floor-to-ceiling windows and stand. After taking a discreet, calming breath, I turn to address the men and women of the board. “Thank you, everyone. This meeting is adjourned.” I turn back to the windows and look out at the Dallas skyline. The sun is beginning to dip below the horizon, and the buildings seem to glow upon its retreat. Off in the distance, I can see Marron House Technologies standing tall and proud, gleaming with its shiny glass and metal framing.

When I hear the door shut, I turn back to the conference table and find my CFO and best friend, Michael Saunders, still in his seat, his deep brown eyes staring at me. And even though he knows the question I’m about to ask, he waits.

I return my eyes to the setting sun. “How long?” I ask, dreading his answer.

“With our current momentum? At the pace we’re going now and with the lack of funds we have?” he questions, and it pisses me off that he’s asking questions he already knows the answers to.

“Yes, Michael, how long from now until our doors close or I’m forced to sell? Forced to possibly put thousands of people out of work?” Honestly, I don’t give a damn about becoming a billionaire or making my mark on the technology world. I care about making things right and keeping the honest people who currently work in this company employed. And with any luck, dedicating any extra profit to the women and children who were affected by the monster that preceded me.

“One year,” Michael says matter of factly. The side of my lip finds its way between my teeth as I ponder his words. “You know Lucy Tanish is still an option. You—”

“No,” I scold. “I will not go to the woman who was beaten and tortured and then sold by that bastard. I will not bring those memories back to her. He’s cost her enough pain. My mother has cost her enough.”

When I first took over Tanish Technologies, I knew the basics of the story. I knew Tanish was suspected of dealing with a known arms and sex-slave dealer. But oddly enough, it wasn’t until I took my investigation of Caleb Marron further that I found out how deep William Tanish’s depravity went. Though the Marrons were able to keep the incident reasonably quiet, the details were still public record, and what I found made me sick.

William Tanish may not have been directly involved in Alexis Marron’s abduction, but he had no qualms in doing business with the man responsible. And if what he was accused of is true––and I have no doubt it is––he sold his own wife into sex slavery when she became an inconvenience.

I never wanted the inheritance my mother insisted I lay claim to, and I don’t begrudge Lucy Tanish the money or the shares. Still, it is becoming increasingly hard to move the company forward two shares short of having control.

“Talia, I’m not telling you to go to the woman and put a knife to her throat––demanding the shares. I’m merely suggesting you talk to her. Have one conversation. Let her hear the plans you have for this company. The plans you have to pull it out of the shit hole that is William Tanish’s name. The plans you have for the profits that this company could make.”

I drop my head back and stare up at the ceiling as I address him. “How do you expect me to look her in the eyes––” I roll my neck on my shoulders to look at him. “With the same eyes as the man that beat her no less? Who bought unwilling women? Who sold her?” The back of my eyes begin to sting with unshed tears, and before old demons can creep out from the depths of my mind, I look back to the now darkening sky.

“Talia, you are nothing like him. Do you bear a resemblance to him? Yes, of course, he’s your father–”

“Don’t fucking call him that.” My tone is biting, but Michael knows better than to refer to that monster as my father.

With hands up in surrender and a look of apology on his face, he continues. “You’re right. I’m sorry. My point is that your physical resemblance is the only thing you have in common with that man, and there’s no way that she won’t see that.” Turning fully toward him and unceremoniously plopping in my chair, I lean my head against the buttery-soft leather and speak to the ceiling tiles.

“How do you know that? How can you be so sure?” I could never imagine sitting down and having a conversation with the bastard child of the man who tortured me.

I feel Michael’s hand grasp my own, and my chest warms. Michael is a handsome man with dirty blonde hair, chocolate-colored eyes, and a body and face that rivals any male model. He is a catch for any woman––just not for me. All through college, people thought we were an item, but he and I decided from the start never to cross that line. And when he met and subsequently lost the girl of his dreams over a misunderstanding––still not clear to this day––that line became thicker, and our bond became stronger.

“Because you’re you, Talia. There isn’t a malicious bone in your body. And if the research I’ve done is accurate, this woman will be able to tell what evil looks like.” He leans forward, resting his elbow on the table, “And that’s not you.”

Squeezing his hand in appreciation, I smile at the man that has become like a brother to me. “I can’t promise you anything other than I’ll give it some real consideration. Okay?”

He gives me one of his smiles that would make any other woman take off her panties and throw them at his feet. But as for me, I just cross my eyes and stick out my tongue, and his responding laugh has me cracking up too.

“Very mature, Mrs. CEO.” He jabs a finger in my side, and I yelp before swatting at his hands.

“That’s Miss CEO. Ain’t no man locking this bitch down.” I toss my honey-blond hair over my shoulder and sit taller in my chair.

Michael only laughs harder at my haughtiness. “I don’t know. You and Caleb Marron would make a dashing couple. And imagine the babies you could make,” he says in a dreamy voice made for teenage girls crushing on the latest music heartthrob.

I scoff at his statement and begin to collect my papers and folders. “It will be a cold day in hell when I let that man anywhere near this––” I gesture wildly to my body and try to hide the lie beneath the surface. Again. Let him anywhere near this, again.

When I stand, Michael’s muscled arm goes around my shoulder, squeezing me to his side. “You know, baby girl, you could always seduce him. Then when you got him right where you want him––” He waggles his eyebrows. And if I didn’t know Michael better, I would think he was serious.

Smirking up at him and seeing his responding mischievous grin, I lightly punch him in the stomach, tight with rows of muscle. He leans over in mock pain, pretending to gasp for air, right before taking me in a headlock and tussling my hair.

“Stop it, you ass! I can’t believe how immature you are.” I struggle to speak through my laughter, and when he swings me up to a standing position, I’m lightheaded. After steadying myself and fixing my hair, I thump him in the center of his forehead, and this time the slight show of pain is real, but he just smirks at me.

“Come on, you. Let’s get you out of here and a drink in your belly.” He pokes at my flat stomach, and I roll my eyes at his sad impression of Fat Bastard from Austin Powers. Taking his offered arm, we head out the doors and straight to the nearest podunk bar, just me and my friend.

My mom may be dead, and the man that lent me his DNA may be rotting in hell, but I know I have a family in Michael, and that’s all I need.

The single beam of morning sun streaming through the blinds has me rolling over with an exaggerated groan. And the sudden shrill ringing of my cell phone on my bedside table has the tap dancing elephants in my head doing an encore performance.

Tequila is not my friend.

Rolling back over, I check the caller ID on my phone to find Michael––who before last night I considered my best friend but now consider the devil himself for shoving shot after shot at me––calling. I flop to my back and immediately hate myself for the movement.

With eyes clenched shut and a mouth full of cotton, I answer. “I hate you,” I declare, my voice sounding like a 90 year-old chronic smoker. When I hear his boisterous laugh on the other side of the line, I grimace at the pounding in my head.

“Damn, woman, I can smell the alcohol from here. I guess you haven’t seen the care package on the side table yet?”

I gingerly turn my head toward my side table to find bottled water, two ibuprofen, and a note. Picking up the note, I read:

Hair of the dog is in your fridge. Take it in one swig.

With a long groan, I sit up and lean against my headboard. Dropping the pills on my tongue, I wash them down with the water, and I sigh in relief as the still cool water coats my dry mouth. “Okay, maybe I don’t hate you that much. But that could change depending on why the hell you’re calling me at.” I look up the time on my phone and see that it’s ten in the morning. “Okay, so maybe it’s 50/50 self-hate and 50/50 just hating you.” His responding laughter makes me smile. “So, for what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

“Well, I know I may be digging my own grave here, but I’ll take my chances.”

With another groan, I pinch the bridge of my nose, knowing that whatever he’s about to say, I’m not going to like, and I tell him as much, “Michael, seriously, you have to do this when my head has an ice pick jammed through it?” Feeling the pain reliever taking effect, I stand on wobbly legs and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and realize that I really need to pee. So with no concern for my best male friend being on the other side of the line, I put the phone on speaker and use the restroom.

“Seriously, Talia,” he scolds. “Do you really have to take a piss with me on the phone?”

“Yep,” I say without hesitation. “You know what alcohol does to me. Straight in the mouth straight out the–”

“Okay, okay, yes, I know. Please don’t finish that sentence.” I smile in victory at making him feel even a tenth as uncomfortable as I feel. Finishing up, I wash my hands and begin the process of thoroughly scrubbing my teeth.

“Proceed if you must,” I say through a mouth full of minty suds.

“Geez, I swear it’s like talking to a little brother.”

“Hardy har har. If you’re not gonna get on with it, you’re gonna end up in the shower with me too.”

“Fine, anything but that. Look, after our conversation about Lucy Tanish, I got to thinking about the best way to approach her––” My growl of frustration interrupts him. Still, before I can speak, he continues. “Halloween is coming up, and every year she throws a charity ball, right? Well, I did a little digging and found out that the charity event is not only to raise funds for a safe house for women and children who have been trafficked, but it’s also somewhat of a celebration of the night Alexis Marron was rescued from Ellison. So what better way to show our support for the cause while at the same time speak out against William Tanish’s actions than to attend and donate? And if during that process you’re able to speak to one Lucy Tanish, it’s a win-win.”

After spitting and wiping my mouth, I stand in front of the mirror, looking at my hungover self with a you-got-to-be-shitting-me look on my face. Michael is one of the smartest men I know, so it surprises me that he can’t pick out the obvious flaws in his plan.

“Michael, I don’t even know where to begin. First,” I lift a finger as though he can see me, “I do believe these events are by invitation only, and in the three years that I’ve been in charge of Tanish Technologies, I have yet to be invited––understandably. Second, you don’t think I’ll look like a money-hungry opportunistic bitch?”

“Well––”

“And lastly, on the off chance we get inside that ballroom, you don’t think the moment Caleb Marron sees me, he won’t have me booted from the property, and probably rather publicly?” These points seem obvious to me, so I can’t wait to hear my friend’s way around these obstacles.

When there’s nothing but silence on the other line, I look at my phone’s screen to make sure we haven’t been disconnected.

When Michael finally speaks, his tone is mocking. “Oh, I’m sorry. Are you finally done?” I roll my eyes at his smart-ass remark. “First of all,” he says, and though I cannot see him, I know he’s holding up a finger, “I’m already working on getting the invitation. Don’t ask how. Let’s just say it will be my pleasure…but mostly hers.” He chuckles, and I sigh at his man-whore comment. “Second, I’m not telling you to use the event to talk to her about the shares. I’m merely saying to use it as a way to get into her circle and hopefully her good graces so that maybe one day soon we can have that crucial conversation. And lastly, fuck Caleb Marron. If we have an invitation, there’s nothing he can do. And I highly doubt he would cause a public spectacle at an event held by his mother and a woman that’s practically like an aunt to him.”

So maybe my friend has thought this through, but the thought of trying to befriend Lucy with a hidden motive doesn’t sit right with me, and as though I spoke my thoughts out loud, Michael goes to reassure me. “Talia, you’re not going to be there to deceive her. You’re going to be completely honest with her about how you feel about William and why you would like the opportunity to sit down with her. Then you will go about your night and let the ball be in her court.”

He makes it sound so easy, but in my experience, it’s rarely that easy, but what other choice do I have? I either beg for scraps like a dog or be forced to sell my company and walk away defeated—tail between my legs.

Leaning over the bathroom vanity, my hands flat on the chipped particle board used as a countertop, I drop my chin to my chest, and when I lift my eyes back to my reflection, my decision is made. I cannot be defeated. I cannot lose. Because if I lose, that means Caleb Marron wins. But worst of all, if I lose, it means that the many women and children I could help lose too. And somehow, that feels like William Tanish wins.

With my convictions resolute, I smile at my reflection and speak into the phone. “Two things: what’s the attire? And what time are you picking me up?”

I can sense rather than see the smile on Michael’s face. “That’s my girl. Formal attire, and I’ll pick you up in style at seven PM, Halloween night. And baby girl?” I wait. “Caleb Marron isn’t going to know what hit him.”

When we disconnect, I let out a humorless laugh. Because if Caleb Marron affects me anywhere near as much as he did that night at Club Domain, then I’m totally screwed.

7

Caleb

If you’re lucky, there are those times in your life where one single moment is enough to send such a powerful adrenaline rush through you that it is damn near hallucinogenic. A moment when your body prepares itself for immense pleasure and the familiar sounds and smells around you bring goosebumps to your skin. That moment when your brain dumps a shitload of oxytocin and dopamine into your system when the peak of that pleasure is tipped.

But all of it dulls in comparison to bringing that pleasure to a partner. Nothing compares to watching the woman you’re flogging, caning, or tying to a Saint Andrew’s cross give in to the erotic torture at your hands. The submissives at Translucent are the best of the best. Well trained and more than willing to do the dirtiest things I demand of them.

I found myself in this club made for the kinkier side of life on my twenty-first birthday. Thinking I was walking into my first strip club, I walked up to the massive steel door like I was king of the fucking world, throwing around cash when the hulk standing guard wouldn’t let me in without a membership. When my drunk ass refused to leave, he handed me a solid black card and told me to call the number, then sent me home in an Uber.

When I woke up the next morning very hungover, I didn’t even remember the encounter until I saw the card lying on my bedroom floor. Flipping it over, I could barely make out the glossy ten-digit phone number etched into the card’s black matte material. I nearly threw it away, but something told me to keep it. That night, I called the number, and after a lengthy conversation with the owner, suddenly my racing mind, scattered thoughts, guilt, and grief all came to a screeching halt, as though I found my own form of therapy in the club made for kinky delights.

The club that promotes any temptation you can imagine takes its name from its unique playrooms. Made from glass, these particular playrooms are set away from the main room, and the walls offer the opportunity to exercise your more voyeuristic side. Anyone walking by can stop and watch the scene playing out in any of the six rooms. Many of my subs find it a thing of pride to have people see how well-behaved they are, so on occasion, I will let people watch, but most of the time, I opt to fog the glass and let the passing couple’s imagination run wild. The remaining playrooms are sealed from prying eyes with the option to activate a viewing window.

I’ve played in this den of sin for years, and each time, I learn something new about myself. I learn my limits as well as the submissive’s at my beck and call. I have grown to crave the rush of the flogger making contact with flesh and the responding moans that come from my submissive’s lips. It has become my prescription, but much like any drug, its effectiveness weakens when taken over a long period of time, and I’m left with a less than satisfactory result.

This is where I find myself now as I watch Emer, one of my regular subs, get dressed after a particularly intense scene. I make sure that after every scene, my subs are taken care of physically and emotionally. Leaving a sub immediately after taking her into subspace is careless. Some can’t handle the feeling of being alone after and will act out in dangerous ways, so I make sure to take care of them until they can dry their tears and function properly. And once I know they are safely back on planet earth, I send them on their way.

Emer has been with me for years, and we have grown in the culture together, but I will never let it cross over to anything that will make her think it is anything other than what it is. Sex. That is it. She is the best submissive I have ever had, and I rarely have to punish her, but after years of hers and others’ compliance, I find myself bored. Now when my orders are followed without question, my heart doesn’t thump as hard. When the smack of the crop on a bare ass sounds in my ears, my dick barely gets hard. I miss learning my subs’ limits. I miss the mystery of exploring my partners’ turn-ons. I miss the challenge of training her to submit under my command.

I tuck my tailored Armani dress shirt into my slacks and return my Oris Big Crown 1917 Limited Edition watch––a gift from Uncle Kyle on my eighteenth birthday––to my wrist. It isn’t the tens of thousands or sometimes even a hundred thousand dollar watch most men in my position own, but for me, it is priceless because it came from a man that I highly respected, and he received it from his father, who was K.I.A. in Desert Storm. I have the memory and legacy of two war heroes lying on my wrist every day.

“May I speak freely, sir?” Emer asks in her small, almost lyrical voice.

Pulling on my suit jacket, I turn and give her my full attention. “You may.”

Her auburn hand swings loosely around her hips as she walks over to stand in front of me. Adjusting my jacket’s collar, she gives me a shy smile. “You’ve seemed distracted lately.” Her voice is slight, and at my furrowed brow, she hurries to expand on her comment. “Not that it hasn’t been amazing as always. It just seems like you’re not entirely here anymore during our time together. Am I doing something wrong, Sir?”

I see her eyes gloss over with unshed tears. Leaning forward, I tenderly kiss her forehead and reassure her. “No, my little melody. You are the picture-perfect submissive.” I lift her chin, demanding her eyes on mine, “Even when you’re naughty.” I smile, and she blushes at the memory of her punishment for not wearing the requested attire for our scene last week.

I had a meeting with Trevor Donahe––the club’s owner––about what it takes to run an establishment such as his, and I wanted Emer to look the part of my assistant. Emer, however, had other ideas. She came dressed in a barely-there metallic silver dress sans panties. And I reddened her ass for the offense.

When I see her mischievous grin, I can’t help but chuckle. Emer is always one to find a way to test my dominance over her and tends to desire the harsher side of punishment. Bringing a cane across the back of her thighs is not truly a punishment for her, but I have my own limits and refuse to cross to the harder side of her desires. She respects that, and we have found a good balance.

“Is there anything more I can do?” Her smile drops, and I feel like shit for making her question herself—especially when I have to be completely honest with her, and it’s going to sting.

“Emer, you have been incredible over these past years, and we have learned a lot about each other and ourselves.” I brush her auburn hair from her face and cup her chin in my hands. “But I think it’s time we find something more for you… and me.” This time her tears fall, and I brush them away with my thumbs, bringing them to my lips to taste. “By no means are you to think that it’s something you did. I just believe we have found everything we possibly can in each other. And I know that my little melody needs more than I can give her. Am I right?” I bend at the knee to get in the line of sight of her emerald eyes. She’s worried she’s going to insult me by confirming my words, but she also knows I demand honesty at all times, so she will comply with the truth.

“Yes, Sir,” she whispers, and I reward her for her honesty with a tender kiss on her forehead. She sighs, then smiles a beautiful, bright smile when I pull away. “Thank you for everything.”

Giving her my own smile, I tap the tip of her nose and nod before heading out the now clear playroom doors. Nothing else needs to be said. Emer will have no problem finding someone who can fulfill her more intense desires.

As I walk through the club’s dark halls, I notice it doesn’t bring me the thrill it used to, and my mood plummets. Any other night I would go find another waiting sub, maybe one new to the lifestyle, but tonight I just want to sit at the bar and stew in my own self-pity.

When I sit on the black velvet barstool, Jamie the bartender––a transgender female who could outshine any model on today’s catwalks––sets down my usual Bowmore single malt whiskey with a wink. I tip my chin in appreciation.

As I sip the expensive whiskey, I examine the possible reasons for my current situation. Why now? Why, after all these years of beautiful women begging for my dominant hand, do I suddenly feel restless and on edge? As I look around the room, I see couples engaging in passionate make-out sessions and heavy petting, while some merely watch the current threesome taking place on the elevated stage in the center of the room.

In the main bar area, all clothes must remain on unless the participants are scheduled to do a scene on stage. The rules at Translucent are strict, and for everyone’s safety, and for as long as I have indulged, no one has ever gotten out of line. At a hefty fee of a quarter of a million a year for membership, no one dares.

Turning back to my drink, I feel a presence perch themselves in the chair next to me. My lips tip up at the edges when her perfume of Jasmine and white tea hit my nose. I turn to see Cassandra––the owner’s wife––sitting with her elbows on the bar, her breasts nearly spilling out of her red corset. For someone close to her sixties, she’s quite beautiful in that classic pin-up way. If I were into cougars, I would take her for a ride, but alas, Mrs. Cassandra Donahe is not one to be taken; she takes. She is one of the few Dominatrixes in the house and only submits to one man. Her husband is a well-known Dom in the lifestyle, and the couple is known for sharing and role reversal—along with other kinks that I don’t care to be reminded of.

“What is it, doll? Can’t find a pretty little thing to play with?” She licks her fire-engine red lips and gives me a toothy smile.

“No, ma’am. I’ve already been in the playroom.” She thanks Jamie when the bartender puts her usual chocolate martini in front of her and swivels her body to face me.

“None of that ma’am bullshit. You’ve been here long enough to call me Cassie. Or—” She stops to lick the chocolate off the rim of her glass before continuing. “You could always call me Mistress,” she purrs.

It’s the same conversation we have when I come in, and she’s working the floor. She’s been trying to get me on my knees for years, and though I never look down on the men who are submissives, I’ve never found it appealing.

“I think I’ll pass, but you know if I ever go exploring that path, you will be the first person I call.” I wink, and her responding chuckle lets me know she’s not holding her breath.

I down the remainder of my whiskey, and immediately, another is put in front of me. There is a strict three drink maximum here, and I had one before my scene with Emer, so this will be my last for the evening.

“I bet I will be. So if you already played, why are you sitting here sulking? Is she not up for your needs? Because we just had some new girls join, and they’re fresh.” I flinch at her words, and before I let it take me down a road that leads to more booze when I get home, I answer her question. “No, Emer was great. She always is.”

“And that’s the problem,” Cassie adds, and I nod.

“Emer needs more. And I can’t give her that more.” I don’t add that I’m no longer getting what I need either because what good would that do?

But in true Dom style, Cassie knows what I’m saying without me ever having to voice my concerns. “And you’re bored. No longer challenged. Even when they attempt to be naughty to keep you interested, it’s all an act, and it’s become mundane.”

I look at the older woman, and her knowing smile has my own stretching my lips. “You’re right on the nose Ms. Cassie, and unfortunately, I don’t think training a new girl will be the solution.”

“You’re not thinking about calling it quits, are you? Not since Trevor opened this place has there been a more sought-after Dom than you.”

Her words flatter me, and I take her hand in mine and kiss the knuckle displaying her enormous wedding ring. I don’t miss the blush that crawls along her cheeks. “I appreciate that, and the answer is no, I’m not calling it quits. I just need to figure out how I get out of this slump and why I’m in it in the first place. The women here are beautiful, intelligent, and a dream for any Dom, so I can’t figure out why it’s not enough anymore.”

Cassie hums in acknowledgment, and after taking a long sip of her martini, she addresses me. “Maybe it’s not that these girls aren’t what you need, but perhaps they’re not who you need. Or desire. Maybe you need someone who’s never been in the lifestyle. Someone who would be a virgin, so to speak. Who knows? Perhaps, deep down, you already know who that person is?”

At her words, a set of blue-green eyes appear in my mind’s eye, and a vision of my hand fisted in honey-blonde hair and gripping curves made for sin have my dick instantly hardening. Pure, adulterated lust courses through my veins, and goosebumps rise on my skin at the image of Talia on her knees, bending to my commands.

I hear Cassie chuckle and feel her stand. “I think you just found your solution, doll.” Her hand glides over my shoulder before she walks away, swinging her full hips.

I sit there with a rock-hard dick, and a need that I know will never be fulfilled. Because if I know anything about Talia Stone, it is that she will never submit to anyone, especially me. But, damn, what an enticing fantasy to envision when I take things into my own hands tonight.

8

Talia

I have just a few days until the Halloween event. Michael called only two days ago letting me know he was able to sex his way into one invitation, and I would have to be his plus one. Though I hate being anyone’s “sidekick,” I gritted my teeth, went shopping, and found the perfect dress in the first store I walked into. It is a beautiful red Penelope satin gown, a classic fit and flare silhouette, a plunging neckline, and backless. The best part is that it came to under three hundred dollars, and with my rapidly shrinking nest egg, I am grateful to find such a beauty for so cheap. It is simple but elegant. I won’t stand out, but I will still look hella good in it.

As the charity event draws closer, I have decided to brush up on anything and everything Lucy Tanish and Caleb Marron. I tell myself it is merely research on how to take him down. And by down, I don’t mean like the many fantasies I have of him with his head between my legs.

Through my research, I realized that not much has changed from the last time I trolled the internet looking for new information. The only new development I got this time is that Lucy Tanish is now going by her maiden name of Brakin.

After my research bore nothing more that could help me, I decided to go in a new direction. I researched further into the actual charity Lucy and Alexis supported called Furious Hope.

Fifteen years ago, the two women took an old, dilapidated furniture warehouse and turned it into a safe house for women and children who had been rescued from trafficking, and even some that were trying to get out of abusive homes. I can only imagine the amount of gratitude those women have for finding a safe place to recover. The safe house location is undisclosed for the occupant’s safety.

If only I had… No. I refuse to go down that road. What happened happened, and what’s done is done.

The more information I read, the more I am hesitant to attend the event. What these two women provide for these victims is astounding. The house offers physical and emotional care, with a female OBGYN on staff for any women who find themselves pregnant, and though they do not provide the option to terminate the pregnancy, they do offer adoption agency options if the woman chooses that path. The therapist they have on staff is a sex-trafficking survivor, and through the charity’s help, she had gone on to receive her medical license in psychology. She now dedicates her life to helping Lucy and Alexis save more and more women each year.

But the three women didn’t stop there. Ten years ago, they opened another safehouse called Unyielding. It is a safe house just for men and boys who have been trafficked. Alexis Marron was quoted stating that our society has become blind to the plight of the men and boys who are victims of this disgusting business and that they would not turn a blind eye to these men.

My respect for these women grew after mere seconds of reading what they have done for these poor victims, and I never felt more ashamed of the DNA running through my veins. The man that fathered me partook in this vicious and disgusting business, and I have no idea how I am supposed to look at Lucy Brakin and ask her to speak with me when I can’t even look at myself in the mirror.

I know what Michael and Felicia would say if they heard me talk about myself that way. That I’m not like him, and the fact that I feel such remorse proves that, but I can’t help but feel dirty…tainted.

My mood has begun to sour at the thoughts plaguing me when my phone vibrates on top of my second-hand Ikea desk. It is Felicia calling for the fifth time in three days, and I know she won’t stop calling until she knows I am alive and well.

So with a heavy sigh, I answer. “Hey, girl. What’s up?”

“Don’t you, hey girl me. I have been trying to call you for three days, and I get nothing but your voicemail? What is that shit about? I didn’t know if I should be checking the hospitals or morgues!” I wince at her harsh tone and feel like shit because she is right. I should have answered, but I haven’t felt like having girl talk with everything going on.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. There are just some heavy things going on right now, and I wouldn’t have been good company,” I say, and I sound pathetic even to my own ears.

I hear Felicia let out a frustrated sigh, and I know she is about to give me the you-are-a-badass talk. “Tai, girl, you are a badass.” I smile when she confirms my prediction. “I know you have a massive weight on your shoulders, but that’s only because you won’t let anyone else help you carry it. Michael adores you and would eat his own dick for you, so let him help.”

I cringe at her crude statement. “Felicia, eat his own dick? Really?”

“Did I say I was done, Ho?” This time I laugh and tell her to continue. “As I was saying: Let. Him. Help. You. And I don’t mean just on the business side. That man has offered to move you out of the tiny and dangerous place you live in now and into his safe and cozy apartment, but you’re letting pride get in your way. Hell, I’ve even offered my parent’s old place, but you still won’t budge. You wouldn’t be eating Ramon noodles and canned soup nearly every night, and you wouldn’t be giving both him and me a heart attack every time we have to let you go home alone, if you would just give in and let us help you.”

I love both my BFFs for everything they have done for me, whether it is Ubering me take-out, offering a safe place to stay, or the one and only time Michael paid my rent. But what both of them can’t understand is that I can’t give in. I can’t let anyone help me, and it has nothing to do with my pride and everything to do with my past. The one part of me that I keep from even my closest friends.

Shaking my head, I bring myself back from going down a path that leads to nowhere good. “Felicia. Stop, okay? I’m sorry. I may sound like a bitch, but I’m tired of having this conversation. There are certain things I don’t mind getting help on, like you cheering me up when I’m down, talking shit about an ex with me, even buying me a coffee here and there as a friend and not as a charity case. But having someone paying my rent, or buying me stuff, or sponging off others is not okay with me,” I bristle into the phone.

“But you wouldn’t––”

“No! I’m done, Felicia! Now, if you would like to talk about the bomb-ass dress I just bought for the charity event, or even whatever guy you banged over the weekend, then I’m all ears; otherwise, I’m hanging up.”

The other side of the line is silent for long seconds before I hear the smile in Felicia’s words. “Like I said: Badass. Okay, bitch tell me about this dress. Oh, better yet, show me.” Suddenly my video chat app lights up, and I smile at the picture Felicia and I took together on our high school senior trip to Boston. Our faces are squeezed together so much it looks like they’ve morphed into one.

“You could have given me time to actually put the thing on first.” I laugh.

“Pfff, girl, you ain’t got nothing I haven’t seen before. Now stop talking and get naked.” She waggles her eyebrows, and it reminds me of the night Michael taught her how to do that, and it has me laughing harder.

“Okay, okay. It’s not like I can hide anywhere you can’t see me anyway.” I wince at the reference to my cramped, efficiency apartment, and I know Felicia is doing everything possible to keep her mouth shut.

I gingerly take the silky gown from its protective bag and hold it up in front of the camera.

“Put. It. On.”

Felicia’s demand has me biting my lip with nervousness. “But what if I get something on it?” My anxiety level is already going through the roof just having the gorgeous gown out of its bag, and she wants me to try it on?

“Do you have any make-up on?” she asks.

“No.”

“Did you just eat?”

“No,” I answer petulantly.

“And seeing as your hair is still damp, I would venture a guess you just showered?”

“Yes.” I sigh and roll my eyes.

“Then try the bitch on.”

I lay the dress on my queen bed that doubles as a couch and remove my DC character pajama bottoms and plain black tank top. I’m left in only my panties, but Felicia has seen me in all my naked glory before, so I’m not concerned.

“Granny alert!” Felicia yells over the camera, teasing me about my granny panties.

“Shut up, whore. I was about to get into bed. Not all of us go to bed in thongs.” I stick my tongue out at her.

“Ha! Girl, a thong? You know I go all-natural when I sleep. Just ask Michael.”

The memory of Michael crawling into Felicia’s tent to ask her for more bug spray on our annual camping trip and the proceeding stunned look and very apparent physical reaction to Felicia’s very naked body has me laughing so hard my stomach begins to cramp.

“Oh, shit. That was hilarious!” I wipe the tears from my cheeks and take a deep breath. Once I have my laughter under control, I pull the dress from the hanger and pull down the tiny hidden zipper with hesitant hands.

Pulling the dress on, I make sure not to move any more than I have so as not to catch the fabric. Twisting slightly to pull the zipper up, the material feels decadent on my skin, and I immediately feel like a princess. As I look down at the dress, making sure nothing has snagged, I hear Felicia’s sharp intake of breath and look up in panic.

“What? Oh, God, what? Is there a stain?” I start flapping my hands up and down as though it could magically make the stain disappear.

“Just shut up for a minute. And be still.” I immediately freeze, my hands still in the air. “Okay, drop your arms, and stand straight.” I slowly drop my arms and leave my hands just far away enough that I won’t accidentally make contact with the fabric. “Tai, look at me, relax, and breathe.” Relaxing my arms and shoulders, I do as she says, then take a deep breath and focus on her face. “You look absolutely gorgeous, Tai. Oh, damn, I think I’m going to cry. You look like a princess. No, I take that back; you look like a motherfucking Queen!” Now she’s the one flapping her hands, but not in panic—to help stop herself from crying.

I smile and feel a rush of appreciation for her words. No one has ever made me feel more beautiful or worthy than my two best friends. “Thanks, Fil,” I say, using the nickname she says she hates but secretly loves.

I lift my nose in the air as though I smell my neighbor’s dinner of boiled Brussel sprouts and tofu cooking. “Do I look like I belong amongst the uppity, pompatics of the world?”

“Hell, no. You look like a sex goddess, CEO who’s going to have Caleb Marron swallowing his own dick.”

“Felicia! What is it with you and dicks in mouths today?” I sputter.

“Hmm, good question. Well, I did suck––”

“Enough! I get it. I’m sorry I asked.”

“Look, the point is, that dress is pure power. Add on top of that the power you naturally exude, and baby, you have enough energy to light all of Texas.”

At her words of encouragement, I brave looking at myself in my Walmart brand full-length mirror, gasping when I take in my reflection. Felicia is right. The dress says sex, but it also screams, “Fuck with me, and you’ll get your balls handed to you.”

“Holy shit Tai, you didn’t tell me about the back. Damn girl, if I didn’t love penis so much, I would be going after your sexy ass right now.”

My cheeks heat at my friend’s words, and her eyes soften. She knows when it comes to my looks, I’m not the most confident. Put me in a room full of businessmen who look at me as a dumb, blonde bimbo, and you will see a lioness emerge, but tell me I’m beautiful, then you will see me squirm.

Sure my mother told me I was pretty when I was little, and I don’t exactly think I am ugly. I just don’t think I am beautiful. I was on the heavier side during my middle school years, and the boys made sure to let me know how unappealing I was. Yes, I am a grown-ass woman now, but that shit stays with you. After losing the weight in high school and hanging out with the boys, I thought I would get more of their attention, and I did––just not the way I hoped. Instead of becoming one of their girlfriends, I became just another one of them, and I was permanently put in the friend zone.

But it wasn’t all bad. I had hunky guys to look out for me, and when I met Michael my sophomore year in college, he taught me how to kick any guy’s ass that tried anything.

“Well, girl, it’s getting late, and I have an early morning. I’ll be over around four to do your hair and make-up that night, so make sure you’re ready for the fabulousness. Not that you will need it.” She winks, then disconnects the video chat.

Turning back to the mirror, I pull my blonde locks over one shoulder and stand straighter, once again taking in my image. Remembering what Felicia said, I nod to myself. I am a goddess, and Caleb Marron can swallow his dick if he thinks otherwise.

“Good grief, Felicia. What have you done to me?” I laugh out loud, and after removing the dress and tucking it safely back in its bag, I get dressed and crawl into bed. As I begin to drift off into slumber, the vision of beautiful people in beautiful attire dance across my closed lids, but none of them as beautiful as the dark-haired, green-eyed devil himself, Caleb Marron.

9

Caleb

Most people complain about Mondays, dedicating memes and GIFs to the dreaded day. But not me. As I speed down the freeway in my Tesla Roadster with the sun just breaking over the Dallas skyline, I can’t help but feel like a kid getting his favorite video game on Christmas. Maybe because I actually am. It may not be Christmas, and I’m not technically getting a video game, but M.H.T was hired to collaborate on a new version of a classic game I loved to play as a kid. Building villages, houses, and all sorts of crazy things from the 3D block-based game was my favorite pastime. Now I get to help revive the dying concept and bring it back to life for the new generation.

My fingers tap along rhythmically with the beat of Weird Al––a guilty and very nerdy pleasure of mine. As I take turns at a higher than necessary rate of speed, I feel my blood pump harder in my veins, and my foot itches to slam down on the gas and find an open road to take the Roadster to her limits. Trying to recreate the adrenaline rush I would get dominating one of my subs has proved difficult as the days go by.

After ending my time with Emer, I haven’t been interested in replacing her, a fact that isn’t sitting well with me. I know any sub I took to play will fall short of my real desire. No matter her skin, hair, or eye color, each woman will always morph into soft olive skin, honey blonde hair, and deep Caribbean blue-green eyes. I am going to have to find an alternative, though, because Talia Stone is the enemy.

My cell rings from my satchel, and I hit the Bluetooth button on my steering wheel to answer. “Marron.”

“Caleb, sweetheart, how are you?” Lucy’s sweet voice comes through the car speakers, and I smile.

“I’m good, Aunt Lucy. How are you?”

“I’m lovely, sweetie, now that I decided to get that monkey off my back. I have no idea why I kept that name for so damn long.”

I laugh because we both know why she kept that name so long. “You kept it to stick it to that bastard. Calling out his bullshit, then using the name for good rather than evil.”

I hear her hum in agreement. “You’re right, and now it’s time to move on from that name, among other things.” Her words are cryptic, and I want to probe further, but she continues before I can ask any qualifying questions. “Would you by chance have some time for me today? There’s something I would like to talk to you about.”

Her question has my heart racing and blood thumping in my ears. If she wants to meet me for anything other than a friendly chat, then I believe I know why she wants to meet.

“Of course. You want to meet at the sandwich shop on the corner or—”

“Actually, I had a breakfast meeting this morning, but it was canceled, so I’m in the area. Could I meet you at your office?”

“That works. I’ll let security know you’re coming. See you soon.”

“Okay, sweetheart. See you soon.”

We disconnect, and a smile creeps along my lips. This meeting could be what I have been waiting for since I started Marron House Technologies. Suddenly, the gaming collaboration pales in comparison.

I park the Tesla in its usual spot in my personal underground parking garage and head to the elevator. Stopping at the lobby first, I find Phil––our front desk security guy––doing his morning checks, and though he’s in his late fifties, he’s former military, sharp as a tack, and trained to be lethal with any object you put in his hands.

“Morning, Phil. How is everything looking?” He continues to check the cameras, and I wait for him to complete his task, knowing he’s in the zone and won’t answer until he’s sure everything is still working like a well-oiled machine.

When he finally looks up at me, he gives a slight nod and addresses me. “Everything is working well, and I didn’t find anything suspicious. The night guards said everything went well, and I checked their logs. All floors are clear and swept for any devices.” He stands ram-rod straight with his hands behind his back. I want to tell him to relax, but I’ve realized Phil is military deep to the bone, and nothing will change that.

“I don’t even know why I ask anymore. You have this place in check. I did want to give you a head’s up, though. Lucy Tan––Brakin,” I correct myself, “will be stopping by shortly. She’s approved, so please send her straight up.”

“Will do, Mr. Marron.” The man is nearly double my senior, so him calling me mister feels odd, but again it’s in his bones, and I respect that. I begin to turn back for the elevator when a mischievous grin splits my face.

“You know what, Phil, actually do you mind escorting Miss Brakin up personally?” I make sure to stress the miss in my question to the widowed Phil. “She hasn’t been in the building for a while, and I would hate for her to get lost.”

I see the big man swallow, then he clears his throat. “Of course, Mr. Marron.”

“Great. Thank you. She’s about your age, beautiful woman, red hair, brown eyes––”

“Yes, sir, I remember Miss Tan—Miss Brakin,” he declares, and I swear I see a blush creep along his cheeks. So he has noticed her. Interesting.

I nod and continue to my personal elevator that will take me straight to my office. Checking the time, I see I have about ten minutes before my assistant gets to her desk and about an hour until I meet with the gaming company. When the elevator doors open, I head to my Balma Xeon glass desk, unpack my satchel, and remove my suit jacket, placing it on the back of my chair.

I always hated suits, but I know it is a necessary evil when at M.H.T. If I am at Marron House Security, I wear my jeans, T-shirt, and work boots. Still, I’m needed more on the tech side of things and have a great team managing my other ventures, so stuffy suits it is.

I hear a knock on my office door, and my God-sent of an assistant, Lydia, steps in a moment later with an egg white and turkey bacon frittata from the gourmet café I made sure to have in-house and at my employee’s disposal. I’m not a health nut, but when my father and uncle got a hold of me at age thirteen, they made sure to work my ass into the ground. I was lifting a hundred pounds, boxing, training in hand-to-hand combat, and practicing with a twenty-two by age fourteen. And it was through my training that I learned quickly that after a particularly hard morning workout, you can’t sit and stuff your face with greasy fried eggs and sausage unless you want it all to come back up.

Lydia gives me her patented sunny smile and lays my breakfast on the coffee table in the sitting area to the left of my desk, along with an iced caramel coffee––another guilty pleasure. “Good morning Mr. Marron. I have everything printed out for your meeting, and the schematics for the various properties you asked for are in your email. After your morning meeting, you have a lunch meeting with Colonel Hemings for the new drone design. Then I have you in the lab for the rest of the day. Oh, and your tuxedo for the gala will be ready by Friday. Should I bring that to the office or have it delivered to your home address?”

“Here is fine. Thank you, Lydia. Phil will be escorting Lucy up shortly. Please see that we’re not disturbed.”

“Yes, sir. Would you like me to order her a coffee from the café?”

I chuckle. “No, if I know Lucy, she will have already had two cups and sipping on her third when she walks in.”

Lydia just smiles and excuses herself, closing the door behind her. By the time I sit at the plush faux leather couch and begin eating, there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I say loud enough to carry through the large office space.

Lucy enters with her arm threaded through the crook of Phil’s, and as predicted, she holds a cup of coffee. As Phil escorts her inside, he can’t hide the look of wonder and want in his gaze.

“Phillip, you are a fascinating man. And I’m sure you hear this all the time, but thank you for your service. And for protecting my nephew and everyone here at Marron House,” Lucy beams, and I don’t think Phil’s face could get any redder. That is until Lucy lifts to her toes and gives him a peck on his cheek.

Trying not to choke on my frittata, I burst into laughter at the look on Phil’s face and the way his eyes almost bug from his head. At my laughter, Lucy turns stern eyes on me. “Caleb Jacob Marron. What is so funny?” Still smiling around my bite of egg, I wave my hand at Lucy to indicate I can’t speak. She sighs and turns back to a blushing Phil. “Thank you for escorting me, Phillip, but now I need to have a word with my devilish nephew.”

Phil’s back remains arrow straight, and he merely nods, then heads out the door, shutting it behind him. The hand not holding a coffee goes straight to her hips, and she cocks an eyebrow at my now controlled form. “You know laughing during my very impassioned speech does not help.”

“Impassioned? Oh, there was passion, alright. If you know what I mean? Bow chicka wow wow,” I tease.

Lucy sits gracefully in the chair across from me, takes my napkin, and wadding it up, throws it at my face. “Shut up, you little ass. It’s been a long time since I have met a good man, and that man,” she gestures to the closed door, “is a good man. And fine to boot.”

“Well, just make sure you two are careful, young lady.” I chuckle, and Lucy gives me a stern eye, but I see the smirk playing on her coral-painted lips. “So, to what do I owe this visit?” I continue to eat, not the least bit worried about it being rude. This woman has seen me eat like a pig and belch like a biker, so me eating during our meeting is nothing.

“I don’t want my shares of Tanish Technologies––or rather Stone Technologies––anymore.” I had hoped that this meeting would be about her shares. Still, I choke on my bit of egg.

I’m still struggling to cough up the offending piece of egg when I feel Lucy start patting my back. “You okay, sweetheart? Wow, is it really that big of a surprise?”

Clearing my throat then taking a drink of my iced coffee, I answer. “No. Actually, it was exactly what I was hoping you wanted to meet about. Not that I wouldn’t invite your company otherwise. I just know you wouldn’t ask to meet me on such short notice if it wasn’t important to you. And since I know Mom, Dad and Lizzy are okay, I just kinda figured it was business-related.” I’m rambling, and I can’t seem to stop myself because, holy shit, I’m possibly five seconds away from owning the controlling interest in Stone Technologies.

Maybe I’ll make Talia switch it back to Tanish

’s name just to dig that knife further into his legacy when I crush it under my boot.

“Always a smart one. So, Mr. Caleb Marron, big shot tech genius, are you interested in my shares of Stone?”

I want to jump up and down like a boy on Christmas morning and sweep her off her feet in a huge hug, but since this has now become a business meeting, I refrain. Standing, I extend my large calloused hand to her, and she places her much smaller soft one against mine. “I am very interested, Miss Brakin, and I will have all the paperwork drawn up and sent to your lawyer by the end of business today.”

She gives me a sweet smile, then envelops me in her slim arms, her head barely reaching the bottom of my chin. “Okay, Mr. Big Shot. I trust you, But—” she disengages me and looks me straight in the eye, “you will not pay a penny over what those shares are currently worth. Are we clear?” With a Cheshire Cat smirk, she points a coral-painted nail in my face. “Caleb, I’m serious, young man. I’m not some ditz that doesn’t know how much my shares are worth, and I’ve been around you long enough to know that you would probably pay double for them because we’re like family, so none of that bullshit. Got it?”

With my smirk still plastered on my lips, I put my arm around her shoulders and tuck her into my side. “You’re not like family, Lucy. You are family.” I lean down and kiss her cheek. “And I make no promises about the price.” I go to move out of her reach before she can jab something at me but don’t quite make it before her elbow makes contact with my ribs. With a hmph, I rub at my sore ribs, and she just eyes me with satisfaction.

“Serves you right. Not a penny more.” She waggles her finger at me before turning and walking to the door.

“Tell Phil I said hi,” I say to her back.

“Oh, I will. Don’t you worry,” she purrs and walks out of my office.

Dumping my empty tray in the trash, I plop myself in my chair and bring my fingertips to my lips. Lucy doesn’t want me paying double for the shares, and I won’t.

I’ll pay triple.

10

Talia

It is the night of the Halloween charity gala, and my nerves are shot. I have the perfect gown, my hair and make-up are flawless––thanks to Felicia’s obsession with YouTube make-up and hair tutorials––and I am even going to arrive in style. Michael is picking me up in his black and white 1967 Chevrolet Corvette. The classic car has smooth curves, white-wall tires, and a red leather interior. It looks like a million bucks when, in reality, it cost more blood, sweat, and tears than anything else. Michael pulled her from a junkyard right after the break up in college and had put his heart and soul into rebuilding her, and now she gleams like a diamond in the sun.

My knee bounces up and down nervously as Felicia finishes up the final details of my hair. My usual flat strands now hang in long curled locks down my back, and she put something in it to make it shine like a new penny.

When my hands start tapping on my thighs, Felicia huffs in frustration. “Girl, will you chill? You’re starting to give me a panic attack, and I’m not even going tonight.”

“Maybe you should. You could go with Michael, and I can sit at home with my Cookie Two-step ice cream and watch nothing but movies with people blowing crap up. That sounds about my speed right now.”

She places a perfectly manicured finger on her chin in mock contemplation. “Sure, I could go. And when I see that Lucy chick, I can just start spouting business shit. You know, like, synergizing crap and boiling the ocean, and my personal favorite: sucking dick to get to the top.”

“Umm, that would be a no. I think my stumbling and bumbling would be better than that.” Huffing out a heavy breath, I square my shoulders and look my reflection in the eye. “I am a badass, and I can do this. I can do this. I can––”

“Okay, spill. You need to tell me right now why you’re really so nervous and doubty.”

“Doubty? Pretty sure that’s not a word,” I jeer and receive a thump on the head with her comb.

“Don’t change the subject. Speak!” She brings the comb to my throat like she’s prepared to cut my throat if I don’t comply.

I raise my hands in surrender and chuckle at the stern look on her face. “Okay. Easy, easy.” I sigh, and my lips tip down. “Lucy isn’t the one I’m worried about. You know I can talk business and assert myself with ease, but,” I fidget in my seat, “I know there’s no way Caleb Marron won’t be there, and the moment he sees me, he’s going to approach me. Michael’s probably right; he most likely won’t make a scene, but Caleb Marron can make you feel two inches tall without ever raising his voice.” I don’t tell her the part where I’m extremely attracted to the infuriating bastard, but of course, Felicia hears everything I’m not saying.

“And the fact that you want to ride that stallion all night long doesn’t help, right?”

I can’t bring myself to speak the words, so I just bow my head in shame. Another whack with the comb has me rubbing the increasingly sore spot on the crown of my head. “Damn it, Felicia, could you use your words, please?”

“Oh, I plan on using my words too, but sometimes a bitch needs some sense knocked into her. The bitch being you in this case.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured as much.” I roll my eyes.

“Look. Caleb Marron is mega ride worthy, and you won’t hear me judge you if you decide to jump in the saddle, so let’s just establish that right now.” I go to interrupt, but I’m threatened with another whack. “Now, onto the other part. You, Talia Stone, will not let anyone make you feel small. You took Tanish’s piece of shit company, fired all the creepy bastards, revamped the entire board, and hired new engineers to actually make the technology successful and safe. And you did it all with your inheritance.” At her look of pride, I just shrug, and my eyes water. “Talia, I say this with the utmost love and respect: you are broke. You used every last bit of that money to bring that company back to life. For what? Money, fame, prestige? No, you did it to undo the wrongs of one man. A man you never knew, and for wrongs you were not a party to. I am in awe of you and what you’re doing, and if Caleb Marron can’t see that, then he never will, and therefore is not worth your time.”

Looking at her reflection, I give her my biggest smile, and she sticks her tongue out at me, ever the goofball. I laugh and blot a tissue under my eyes. Taking in a deep breath, I lift my chin high and make a promise to myself. I will not let Caleb Marron make me feel anything less than the kick-ass woman that I am.

“That’s my girl.” With a squeeze of my shoulders, Felicia finishes turning me into a powerhouse dripping with sex appeal.

After pulling into the valet line, Michael turns to me. “Talia, I wouldn’t be pushing you to do this if I didn’t think you could convince Lucy to sit down and speak with you,” he affirms, his mocha eyes sincere. “You have put everything into that company, and you’re so close to the prize. Don’t let these people take that away from you.” He lifts my hand to his lips and places a sweet kiss on my knuckles. “By the way, you look fan-fucking-tastic.”

Bringing his hand to my lips, I give him the same gentle kiss. “Thank you, Michael. For everything. And you look good enough to climb.” I wink, and his robust laugh follows me as my door is opened, and I take the valet’s offered hand.

The opulent luxury apartment hotel hybrid building that is The Imperial in Dallas is a thing of beauty. The Grand Ballroom has twenty-foot floor-to-ceiling windows that give a panoramic view of Dallas. Tables draped in floor-length linens in white and muted gold are set around the room and adorn large crystal vases overflowing with white roses and Calla lilies. Ten ballroom chairs in the same white and gold surround the elegant table setting. Expensive china, crystal glassware, and sterling flatware sparkle under dozens of chandeliers. There is a gleaming white marble dance floor and a staging area for the twelve-piece orchestra surrounded by the same white roses and lilies.

Every inch of the room screams money, and I am tempted to run in the other direction, but Felicia and Michael’s encouragement continues to play in my head. With Michael’s warm hand on the small of my back, I lift my chin, straighten my spine, and walk deeper into the opulent ballroom. The sound of Guns ’N Roses’ “Sweet Child of Mine” floats through the air. The classical rendition seeps into my soul and takes over my senses. And even though I know little about him personally, I have a feeling the music choice is Caleb’s doing.

“Bar or table first?” My eyes open at Michael’s voice, and I realize I’m swaying softly to the music, completely entranced. “Or are you ready to dance already?” He chuckles.

I head toward the long L-shaped bar and wait to order a stiff drink. If the music gets to me so quickly, what the hell am I going to do when face to face with Caleb? I don’t know how, but I know I need to do everything I can to avoid the man.

As we wait to order, my red suede toe taps against the gold flecked granite floor. My hands twist around each other until they’re grasped by Michael’s. My eyes on him, I relay my gratitude without so much as a word.

Once it’s our turn, I opt for a simple white wine rather than my usual whiskey, and Michael orders his typical bourbon. We move toward the tables and find our name marker three table sections back from the stage, and I can’t help being surprised. A part of me expected to be placed in the back by the staff entrance. Or the bathroom.

“Wow. Third row. Nice, Michael. You must be a beast in the sack.” I waggle my eyebrows and nudge him in the ribs.

“I keep telling you: I know how to please a lady. I’m right here if you ever want to test it out.” His arms are spread wide, and I laugh at his attempt at a sultry sex kitten pout. Michael and I never have and will never cross that line, so his offer doesn’t faze me. Michael is like a protective big brother––just with an unfiltered dirty mind.

“Yeah, I think I’ll pass. Besides, you already have eyes on you,” I gesture subtly over his shoulder, “so I think you will have plenty of action tonight.”

He turns to where I’m gesturing, and when the brunette starts in our direction, he turns back to me. “Shit. I had a feeling this would happen.”

I look around him to look at the approaching woman, my brow furrowed. “What’s the problem? She’s hot as hell and already eye-screwing you.” Then it clicks. “She’s how you got the invitation.”

At the Cheshire Cat grin spreading across my face, Michael narrows his eyes at me. “Don’t even think about pulling any of your bullshit. She was already clingy, and I had to humor her to get this invitation for you. I stayed over, Talia. I don’t do sleepovers, but I did for you.”

“Um, no. You insisted I come. I was happy sitting at home, wallowing in my self-pity.” He goes to argue but is interrupted by the pretty brunette.

“Michael, you came,” she says, her tone meek but hopeful.

With one last warning look, he plasters on an over-the-top smile and turns. “I did. You generously offered the invite, and it’s a very worthy cause, so I couldn’t turn it down.” I hear everything he’s not saying. He’s trying to politely tell her he didn’t come for her.

It’s too much. I can’t not introduce myself, right? It would be rude. Michael’s large stature blocks me from her view, so I breeze around him and stretch out my hand with a toothy grin. “Hello, I’m Talia, Michael’s plus one.” Her eyes look up at Michael, and I see them water. “Oh, don’t worry. Not that type of plus one. More like a buffer between him and all the ladies wanting to jump him.” She takes my hand and limply shakes it. “But if you’re the one that gave him the invite, then I guess my job is done. You’ve got this, right?” Her eyes light up at my question, and she bites her bottom lip, nodding like a toddler that was just asked if they want to play with their favorite toy. I pat Michael’s arm and walk away, but not before I hear him growl, “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

Sticking to the edges of the crowd, I walk and sip my wine and wince at the bitter taste. Definitely not the overly sweet cheap stuff I get at the grocery store. I know I’m never going to finish it, so I start to look for a place to leave it.

“Not your taste?” I stop my perusing at the soft lyrical voice coming from behind me. Turning, I see the one and only Lucy Brakin standing in all her angelic glory. Her long red hair falls in waves, nearly touching her ass, her brown eyes haven’t dulled with age, and her porcelain skin nearly flawless. Only the slight crow’s feet and forehead lines hint at her age. The scar that has marred her face for years is nowhere to be found. “I have a good plastic surgeon. However, I insist on keeping the wrinkles. They’re my badge of honor, but the scar had to go,” she jests.

“You’re gorgeous,” I blurt and blush at my outburst. But the woman is in dynamite shape. The pale pink floor-length gown clings to her like a second skin, and there isn’t a bit of a tummy bulge or cottage cheese thighs anywhere.

Her eyes twinkle with humor, and her smile reveals perfectly straight white teeth. “And you, Talia Stone, are a sight yourself. You have his eyes, the only thing about him that was beautiful. Other than that, I see your mother in you. Now the question is, whose moral compass did you inherit?” Her brow lifts, and I fidget under her stare.

“I would like to think I didn’t inherit either’s moral compass––or lack thereof.” Her lips tilt up ever so slightly, and she gestures for me to join her at a standing table away from the main crowd.

“So, Miss Stone, I know you weren’t on the invite list, so may I ask how you are here tonight and why?” I want to take offense to her question, but something in her tone tells me she’s asking more out of curiosity than accusation.

I huff out a small chuckle. “I have no idea.” When she continues to look at me expectantly, I go to explain. “Miss Brakin, I know every person in this room thinks I don’t belong here. I’m well aware of how people see me and that it’s based on the sins of the man who knocked my mom up.” I can feel my cheeks flush, and my temper begins to rise with each word I speak. When Lucy places her slender hand on mine, I take in a stuttering breath. “But I am not that man, and I am not my mother. One of the reasons I came is because I believe in what you and Mrs. Marron are doing, but I would be lying if I said it’s the only reason I’m here.” At her knowing smirk, I spill the truth. “I also came to see if I could get a moment of your time. Only to see if I could set up a time to sit and talk with you.” I leave out the part of wanting her to basically give me her shares of the company.

“I’m right here, and you have my full attention, Miss Stone.”

“No!” I nearly shout. “I mean, tonight is about helping the survivors. I’m not going to sully it by talking about business.”

Lucy looks out at the crowd with a squeeze to my hand and a smile on her face. “Dear, don’t let any of these people fool you. Yes, they’re here, and yes, they’re spending money for the cause, but don’t think for one moment that they’re not also out there making business deals or looking for the next big fish to land.” She turns her eyes back to me. “And you’re no different. Though I do believe you when you say you are not William, and I do believe you are here to support the foundation. More than anyone else here, with the exception of my family.”

Her words have me releasing the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Thank you, Miss Brakin. I appreciate you seeing me and not…him.”

“Of course, and please call me Lucy. Now, please tell me why you wanted to meet with me.”

Taking in a deep breath, I begin my pitch. “The short answer is I wanted to speak to you about your controlling shares of Tan–Stone Technologies.” When she goes to speak, I continue before she can deny me. “I know it’s no secret that the company is not doing well financially, and it would be true that I cannot pay what someone else could. However, I have a contract written up that binds Stone Technologies to no less than thirty percent of our profits going straight to the Furious Hope and Unyielding. Miss Brakin, Lucy, my team is on the brink of something incredible. Are you aware of NASA’s first uncrewed mission, the Altair 1, which plans to use the integrated Space Launch System?”

At the look of confusion on her face, I continue. The mere thought of what my engineers are so close to accomplishing has my spirits lifting. “While this project is actively in development at NASA, the project needs a more powerful SLS upper stage and updates to the EGS’s Mobile Launcher Platform, which are necessary to maximize both systems’ capabilities. Lucy, we are so close to having the solution NASA needs to make this mission a success. Unfortunately, we can only go so far in talks with them without the controlling member being a part of the deal. I know you don’t have any wish to be part of the business, so I would consider it an honor and a significant debt, which I would repay in abundance, if you would allow me to buy those shares.” When I have finished my pitch, my smile could light the entire ballroom in a blackout. I have no doubt that, given the opportunity, my team can get the NASA project up and running, and Stone Technologies will be taken to the next level.

But with one look at Lucy’s face, I know my dream is gone. “Talia…I can’t sell those shares to you.”

“Lucy, I understand you have a loyalty to the Marron family, and I’m sure Caleb is chomping at the bit for those shares to take down my company. But if you insist on getting revenge, please consider getting it by letting me recreate something extraordinary from the sewage William Tanish built,” I plead, my heart cracking bit by bit.

“Talia, please.” My lips shut, and I steel my spine for her next words. “I can’t sell you those shares because–”

Suddenly realization dawns on me, and I don’t need her to finish her sentence. “Because you already sold them to Caleb.” By the downcast of her eyes and the downward tip of her lips, I know I am right.

When she looks up at me with regret in her eyes, I nearly break. “Talia, I’m sorry, dear. I really am, especially after everything you just said. I love Caleb, and I know you don’t see it, but he is a very wonderful and generous person. So I never stopped to even consider anyone else to take those shares,” she sighs. “I guess I was also so wrapped up in destroying William even after his death, I didn’t consider how you were changing the company and creating good from evil.” She takes both my hands in hers. “Talia, I’ll talk to him. He’s so hell-bent on being our avenging angel that he can’t see anything else.”

“No. Please don’t. I’m a grown woman, and I have fought this long, and I have plenty more fight in me. Even if it is against Caleb Marron.” I grin.

“Oh, I have no doubt you will give him a run for his money.” Her lips lift in a wicked grin, and there’s something in that look. Something that tells me she’s privy to something I’m not.

“Lucy, I want to thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I need to get some fresh air.”

“Of course, but please, Talia, don’t leave. Enjoy the food and liquor. Like I said, business deals aren’t just made in the boardroom. You never know who you might meet.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” I give her an encouraging smile, one that doesn’t convey the devastation I feel. Before I walk away, I ask for one last favor. “Lucy, if you genuinely meant anything you said to me, that you please keep the whole NASA thing to yourself. Please,” I implore.

Her eyes widen slightly, and she places her hand on her chest. “Of course, Talia.”

I walk away in search of a moment of peace in this fucked up situation. I need a moment to plan my strategy and mourn the possible loss of a dream.

11

Caleb

The Grand Ballroom shines under the crystal chandeliers, and the suits and gowns worn by guests fit in perfectly with the opulent surroundings. I’ve always hated social gatherings––they make me itchy. Like little bugs are crawling all over my skin. Some call it social anxiety. I call it people being a pain in the ass. Or rather, the fake and forced small talk that is expected in these situations is a pain in the ass. Even I am fake because if I were truly to be myself at one of these things, I wouldn’t have a single client.

But tonight isn’t about me or my comfort. Tonight is about supporting a good cause and honoring the two strongest women in my life. I arrived half an hour late after having to talk a client down from the ledge. The diva actress Marron House Security recently acquired insisted on speaking to the Caleb Marron.

When she began to stress her concerns about how her security is being run, I quickly realized she was less concerned about her safety and more concerned about jumping into bed with the Caleb Marron.

So after an hour-long conversation, I had finally gotten through to the starlet and left her in Jax’s hands. Now I am dressed in my most expensive tux, ready to gouge these old bastards for as much money as possible—all for a good cause, of course.

As I walk through the room, I’m stopped every few steps by philanthropists, well-wishers, and benefactors alike. I am grateful for their contribution and tell them as such as I schmooze more money from their wallets with a simple quip and a wink. I am smooth as fuck, and before these people know it, they will be shelling out millions.

Finally making it to my destination, I envelop my mother in a tight hug and kiss her cheek. “Mother. You look lovely as always.”

She rolls her eyes at my formality before squeezing me to her. “Mother? Caleb, who the hell raised you? I know you’re a grown man, but please call me Mom. Or are you too much of a big shot for that?” She jabs a manicured nail into my ribs.

Chuckling, I kiss the crown of her head. “Okay, Mom. And you know I’m never too much of a big shot for you. You would kick my ass.”

“Damn right, and don’t forget it.”

“Hey, bud. Looking sharp.” I turn at my Dad’s voice, and he embraces me in a robust one-armed hug and slaps me on the back. My dad may be in his late fifties, but the man is still built like a brick shithouse. Solid, muscled, and an ever-towering presence, my father could intimidate the most hardened criminals. But we see the man beneath the brute strength. He is a loving husband and an adoring father. We are his weakness, but also his greatest strength.

“You too, old man. You clean up well,” I tease and get his patent “watch it, boy” look.

My mom’s arms go around his waist, and she looks up at him with love, devotion, and other things that a child should never imagine their parents thinking about. “He sure does, doesn’t he? I mean, I love the nerd look, but him in a tux just brings a fire––”

“Mom! Really? You don’t need to finish that sentence. I think we get it.” I make a show of shivering in my suit. They both smile at each other mischievously, and I thank God when we’re interrupted by my cousin Scotty.

“Caleb, you came!” He stands tall next to me in his own tux sans bow tie.

“Of course I came, man. I wouldn’t miss it.” I grasp his shoulder.

Scotty and I are four years apart, and we hadn’t really been close as kids. It was always he and Lizzy who were thick as thieves. But over the years, I’ve tried to make sure I give him more of my time. I’ve taken him to hockey games where he was spoiled by the wait staff in my company suit. We went to London to meet some of his favorite YouTubers, and sometimes we just sit in his apartment and play video games.

Scotty was diagnosed with Autism when he was seven years old, and it is a constant struggle for him to relate to people, especially men. For most of his youth, my grandfather was the only one who could get through to him during his meltdowns, being the only constant male influence in his life. My aunt Becca was a good woman, but she was shit at picking men, so the few men she allowed into Scotty’s life had been significant letdowns.

“When you coming over to play my new Lego world game? They made the levels a lot harder, and I need your super brain to help me.” I chuckle at his comment. The guy is a hoot and doesn’t know his own intelligence.

I know some assholes see people with mental disabilities as broken, mentally unstable, and even stupid at times, but what I see––what our entire family sees––is a young man who can think his way around any problem he faces and can come up with the most imaginative stories.

When he finally let me read one of his stories, I knew that they needed to be shared. So with his and my aunt’s blessing, I sent the short story to a friend of mine at a local publishing company. Now Scotty has ten short stories published on various online markets. His TED talk went viral about a year ago, and now he is the one being recognized like the people he idolizes on YouTube.

“Well, my super brain will see you Monday night. How does that sound?”

“Sounds good.” He gives me an enthusiastic high five.

It’s at that moment that Lizzy chooses to sneak up behind him and grasp him around the shoulders, taking no mind to his issues with being touched. Lizzy never treats Scotty differently, even when we insist Scotty has specific triggers. She would tell us to leave her alone and that Scotty doesn’t have triggers; he just doesn’t like certain things. Just like everyone else. After a while, we just let her and Scotty figure out their own dynamic. Like now, as Scotty begins to rock in Lizzy’s arms, a clear sign that he is very uncomfortable.

“Scotty Scott Scott! What is up, my favorite cousin?” Lizzy embraces him tighter, and at her voice, Scotty’s eyes light up, and he wriggles in an attempt to turn around.

“Bizzy Lizzy! Mom said you’re working at Caleb’s security place now!”

Lizzy wriggles her shoulders. “I am! And I’m going to kick some major ass.” They fist bump, and when the orchestra starts to play Queen’s “We Are the Champions,” they both hoot like a pack of wolves, and Lizzy drags Scotty to the dance floor.

I shake my head at their antics while everyone else laughs and goes back to their conversations. It’s then I notice a component of our group was M.I.A. I’m about to ask where Lucy is when a flash of red crosses in my peripheral. When I turn my head, I see a gorgeous blonde in red silk speaking to Lucy. But it’s not just any woman. It’s the woman who has been staring in my dreams for the past weeks. Hell, the past two years, if I’m honest.

The long red gown brings out the glowing strands of gold in her hair. Her back is bare to just below the small of her back, and I imagine my lips running a line of hot, wet kisses up her dewy skin. The front dips daringly low but still retains its elegance. So much of her porcelain skin is on display, and I want to taste, smell, and mark every inch of it. The dress has no jewels or embroidery that can take away from the beauty of the woman wearing it. The only jewelry she wears is a pair of diamond studs. My pulse thumps a staccato through my veins, and my dick begins to stiffen. Then like a bucket of cold water, I remember why I haven’t seen her at this event before.

She isn’t welcome, which means she must have manipulated––or slept––her way in. The latter pisses me the fuck off for reasons I don’t care to explore at the moment.

Moving in her and Lucy’s direction, I suddenly stop when a man whose height rivals my own steps in front of me, blocking my path. His dark blond hair is swept back, and his brown eyes study me with open hostility a moment before turning nearly vacant, a broad and very forced smile stretching his lips.

“Caleb Maroon, correct?” He extends his hand. Taking it, I can feel the restraint it takes for him to not crush my hand.

It isn’t uncommon for people to resent me for my success, but that’s not why this man hates me. No. Michael Saunders hates me because I took from him, or more like I took from his boss and long-time friend, Talia Stone. Whether he knows about the sale of Lucy’s shares or not, Michael Saunders is making this little display personal. So being the dick that I am, I play his little game. “Marron. And I’m sorry you are?” I ask, narrowing my eyes as though I can’t place his face. And I have to give it to the guy. If it weren’t for the slight twitch in his jaw, I would think my words don’t affect him at all.

“Michael Saunders. CFO of Stone Technologies.”

I tilt my head in mock confusion. “Ah. You mean Tanish Technologies. Seeing as Talia Stone didn’t have the authority to change the name or fire the board.” My smile is condescending, and his own lips thin in a straight line.

“Well, when people drag their feet, shit still has to get done now, doesn’t it? And Miss Tanish. My apologies. Miss Brakin,” I growl at his supposed slip of the tongue, “didn’t seem too fazed by our actions.” I want to burst his bubble and tell him that it is no longer her decision, but when I see Talia’s lithe body hurry toward the open patio area, I decide I’m done with this fool.

“Be prepared for things to change, Mr. Saunders.” And with the warning floating in the air, I leave him to stalk my prey.

I head for the patio, and this time I don’t let anyone interrupt my forward momentum. I tell myself it’s because I’m in a hurry to tell Talia off and break the bad news to her, but that nagging, lustful piece of me heats at the thought of seeing her face to face again after two years.

Walking out onto the balcony, at first glance, I find it empty—the unseasonably chilly air keeping guests inside. When I hear a soft sniffle to my right, I look over to see a lean silhouette hidden in the shadows. Her hands are braced on the stone wall, and her head hangs between her arms, and as I stare at her form, something twists in my chest.

Talia stands abruptly and swats at her cheeks aggressively. Shit. She’s crying, and I don’t do crying women. I turn to make my escape, but then she speaks, and her harsh tone freezes me in place.

“What the fuck do you want?” Her head swings in my direction, and my breath catches in my throat. The white lanterns glowing above us make her eyes look luminescent. They’re like twin sirens on the rocking shore, calling for me to crash upon their jagged edges. When I don’t answer, she continues her line of questioning. “Shouldn’t you be selling your soul to Satan himself right about now?” She turns fully and folds her arms over her chest, the position lifting her milky white breasts and creating a delicious bit of cleavage. “Or has that ship already sailed?”

Casting my eyes back to hers, I smirk at her reference to the story of Faust, and not for the first time, I wonder why people assume I sold my soul. Maybe I’m just not very likable.

“Maybe I’m not the foolish Faust.” I run a single finger down her long, lean arm. “Maybe I’m the devil,” I say and watch as her skin pebbles at my touch.

Her breath hitches, and she moves just out of reach. “As much as I want to agree with your assessment, I can’t.”

“No?” I ask with no little amount of surprise. I am sure she sees me as an evil entity in her world.

“No. That title is taken by someone else.” She moves around me and returns to the stone ledge, where she seems to get lost in her own thoughts. Approaching slowly, I stand next to her, and as the wind blows across the balcony, her sweet floral scent invades my senses. My eyes drift closed briefly before opening and focusing on the lights of downtown Dallas. “Again, I’ll ask. What do you want?”

She doesn’t look at me this time, and I angle my body toward her. “I could ask you the same question. Seeing as you’ve never been invited before, and seeing that I’m the one funding this shindig, I don’t believe you or your lackey were invited this time either. So tell me, Miss Stone, how did you get in the door?” She seems to choose her words carefully before answering, and when she bites the side of her lip, I’m rock hard.

She turns to face me, and I see the fire in her eyes, the confident lift of her chin, and the subtle way her shoulders pull back. “Why does it matter? I’m here, and I’m not running off just because you decide to try and intimidate me. Plus, there are a lot of influential people here that would love to invest in Stone Technologies.”

Her eyes flare with defiance, and her fire lights my own. “So, you’re here to ‘convince’ people to invest in your dying company? Not to speak with Lucy Brakin and convince her to sell her shares to you? And you’re not out here crying because you found out you were too late and that I now own the controlling interest in Stone Technologies and all its assets?” When I see her eyes film over with tears, and her nostrils flare in rage, I’m ready to pat myself on the back for hitting my target, but then the twisting in my chest returns.

Looking me dead in the eye, she never lets her tears fall. “So, what’s next? Change the name back, then destroy it? Put thousands of people out of work just so you can say that you, the great Caleb Marron, slew the big bad dragon?”

Her condescending words invoke my blood to boil, and I step into personal space. “At least I’m not whoring myself out to the highest bidder.”

I see the slap coming from a mile away, so I steel myself before it lands. As soon as her hand leaves my bearded cheek, she clutches it to her chest. Acting on instinct, I make a move to see if she’s injured––my typical protectiveness usually reserved for my family––sparking to life.

This woman brings out too many contradicting feelings in me. I want to spank her ass red for striking me while at the same time I want to hold her in my arms and comfort her.

However, I don’t get the chance to do either when she backs away from me, still clutching her hand. “Fuck you, Caleb Marron. How proud your mother and aunt would be to hear you say something so cruel,” she mocks, then turns her back to me and walks away.

As I watch her disappear, guilt pumps through my veins, dumping poison into my heart. Because she’s right. For me to make such an accusation, whether I meant it or not, is deplorable, especially after everything my mother and aunt went through.

I swallow the bile beginning to rise in my throat and rush to catch up to Talia before she’s consumed by the hordes of guests. But I needn’t worry because my eyes are immediately drawn to her, only cementing my theory of her being a siren. One look at her and where moments ago there was guilt, there is now an unfamiliar and very unwelcome feeling coursing through me. Jealousy. Because at this very moment, Michael Saunders has his arms around Talia, and her cheek lays on his chest.

My heart begins to race, and a powerful sense of possessiveness has me feeling like an animal about to tear apart his competition. My steps quicken, and when Saunders sees me coming, he pulls Talia behind him, and I nearly growl with the action.

“Back off, Marron. Out of respect for your family and Talia, I won’t fuck you up right here and now, but don’t push me.” I have no doubt with his height, broad build, and the same natural protectiveness, Michael would be a worthy opponent. But even as my muscles tighten and ready themselves for a fight, I know I can’t throw fists. Not here. Not in front of my family and colleagues.

Steadying my nerves, I withdraw my gaze from Michael and look around him at Talia, who even now stands tall like an exquisite golden phoenix. “Talia.” Her name on my lips is a command, and at my authoritative tone, Talia’s eyes dilate, her lips part and her cheeks flush.

Interesting.

She steps to Michael’s side and places her hand on his bicep, and I have to look away to keep myself from snatching her hand. When I turn back to them, Michael has stepped aside, and Talia is scrutinizing me.

“Haven’t you done enough? Are you determined to completely humiliate me?” she spits, the effect I have on her seconds ago gone. I immediately mourn the loss.

Ignoring her words, and Saunders who stands sentry, I take a step into her, and I can’t help the smug smile that crosses my face at the sound of her breath hitching. “Dance with me,” I whisper against her cheek. When I pull back, I can see the battle raging in her mind. She wants to tear me to ribbons with her words, but her body wants me. Craves me. Taking her hand, I lift it to my lips and kiss each knuckle, my eyes never leaving hers. “Please.”

With a deep swallow, she nods her consent, and I lead her to the dance floor. The first strings of “Bring me to Life” by Evanescence begin to play, the violin rendition of the song giving the tune a haunting cadence.

Slowly, I guide her through the intro, and when the orchestra picks up speed and intensity, I jerk her into my chest and guide her into a corte. She gasps when I bring her left knee to my hip, and my hand slides her silk dress up her petal-soft thigh. My lips graze her collarbone, and I hear her sigh as my lips ghost over her skin.

I bring her back into ready position before leading her into an open reverse turn. When her eyes drift closed, and with her lips being so close to mine, I have to bite my bottom lip to restrain myself from taking what I so desperately want.

I spin her to face away from me, thrusting her hips against my growing arousal. I drape her right arm around the back of my neck, and trailing my fingers down the underside of her arm, my left foot steps forward, and her left follows in perfect synchronicity. With each step, my need for her grows, and when I can’t take it anymore, I place a tender kiss on her earlobe and breathe warm air into her ear. A soft moan leaves her lips, and she turns her head into the kiss.

Then as though she is violently jerked from a dream, she freezes in my arms.

“Talia? What’s wrong?” I ask.

When she turns to me, she looks devastated, and I have no idea why. I open my mouth to speak, but she holds up a shaky hand. “No.” She steps away, nearly tripping. When I go to steady her, she backs away as though she’s attempting to escape a dangerous animal. “No, Caleb Marron. You will not do this to me. I promised myself. I…you…” She shakes her head. “Just no.” Then she’s rushing out of the room, and I’m left with a hard cock, a dumbfounded look, and a feeling inside my chest that I refuse to acknowledge.

12

Talia

Michael and I drive in silence. I don’t want to talk about what happened on that dance floor. I don’t want to tell my best friend about the incredible surge of need that coursed through my blood at Caleb’s touch. After Caleb’s horrible accusation, I wanted to follow the slap with a knee to his balls. But with the look of complete and utter devastation on his face when I pointed out how his words would hurt his mother and aunt, I couldn’t follow through.

His words were cruel, but I egged him on. I know why Caleb wants to destroy Tanish’s legacy; hell, I even agree, but I need him to see past his plan and see mine. Revenge doesn’t need to be taken by brute force. It can be taken with finesse and cunning, while at the same time doing good for others.

None of that matters now, though. Caleb has controlling interest, and once he finds out about the NASA project we are working toward, he will take that too. He may keep the other employees, but I have no doubt Michael’s and my days are numbered. No matter the extraordinary chemistry between Caleb and me, there’s no way he will keep me on––not even to sweep the floors.

When Michael puts the car in park, I look out the passenger window to see we’ve pulled into the underground garage of Michael’s apartment. I want to argue for him to take me home, but I know my friend, and he’s in protective mode, which means he won’t be leaving me alone in my shitty efficiency apartment tonight.

When we enter his one-bedroom apartment on the third floor, Michael disappears into his bedroom, and I flop down on the worn leather sofa and rest my head against the back. Letting out a heavy sigh, I go over the evening in my head: the opulence, the grandeur, the reason for it all. I failed, yet the one thing that haunts me is my body’s reaction to Caleb’s touch. When he said my name with that commanding tone, something happened to me. Something that scared me, something I swore I would never do again.

Break.

But the fear of breaking at Caleb’s voice isn’t like before. I’m not scared there will be a blow to my face or words that could decimate my self-worth. No, with Caleb’s voice, I felt…peace. My body heated at his tone, intense eyes, and possessiveness, and oddly enough, I felt safe with Caleb. After his cutting words, I should have run far away, but I was drawn to that feeling of safety and peace, so when he asked me to dance, I couldn’t stay away.

Our bodies moved together as though they had found their other half. Like they were meant to be in sync with one another. Only when his lips met my ear did the memories of another man’s lips rush forward: the memory of the bite to my ear and the blood dripping into my ear canal and the beating that would take an innocent life.

No, Talia. Don’t go there.

Michael walks into the living room wearing nothing but his plaid sleep pants, his chiseled chest on full display. Holding a sheet, pillow, and blanket, he gestures for me to stand. “You know the drill. Showers open. Your clothes are on the bed. I got the couch.” Again I want to argue, but all the times that I’ve come to him a complete mess have taught me this is how things go, and there is no use arguing with him.

Placing a hand on his muscular bicep, I lift to my tippy toes and kiss his cheek. “Thank you.” Walking toward his room, I stop long enough to look back at my friend. His back is to me as he dresses the couch for the night, the large back tattoo moving with each stretch of his muscles. The intricate black vines weave a nonsensical pattern over his taut skin, and where the black and white roses are beautiful, the vines themselves tell a sad story with their thick thorns that drip crimson blood.

So many times, I’ve wanted to ask him about his pain, but much like my own, he keeps it locked tight in Pandora’s box. We understand that we will be there for each other when we are ready to talk about it, but we are not to ask until then.

Walking into his room, I unzip my gown and drop it to the floor along with my red thong and high heels. The shower heats immediately, and when I step under the warm water, my muscles begin to relax. There are so many issues to think about, but none of those issues can be solved right now, so I let them drain away for the moment. Taking the bodywash Michael bought just for me, I begin to soap my body. My hands trail over my neck to my collar bone, and when I graze my hand over my breasts, my nipples peak. An image of strong, calloused hands twirling circles around the puckered peaks flashes across my closed eyes, and a moan slips through my lips.

His lips graze the nape of my neck as his hands grasp my breast tightly but not painfully. Kneading my flesh in his large, powerful hands, Caleb whispers sweet comfort in my ear. “You are so soft. So lovely and precious.” With one hand still on my breast, his other trails a long line down my torso until he reaches the trimmed hair of my pussy. A gasp escapes my lips, and I turn my cheek into his lips, where he lays tender kisses against my skin. His fingers spread my folds and begin to lightly stroke my clit before he enters me with a thick finger. The moan that escapes my lungs is nearly a growl. “Fuck, Talia, you’re so wet. Is this all for me, lovely?” The finger inside me begins to pump slowly, and my body begins to quake. “Answer me, Talia,” he commands, and I obey.

“Yes, Caleb. It’s all for you. Please make me come,” I plead.

“I’ll always take care of you, lovely.” He removes his fingers from me then places my hands on the shower wall. “Hold on, Talia. I’ll give you what you need.” His cock slides between my folds and enters me with ease, and our mingled moans echo throughout the room. “Damn. You’re so tight. You’re pure heaven.” He begins to thrust, and my body molds to his. Our breaths become ragged as his thrusts become harder, faster, and his grip on my hips becomes bruising. I love it. When his breathing becomes erratic and his thrusts uneven, I know he’s close, and when he brings his fingers to pinch my clit, I explode. Bringing my fist to my mouth, I attempt to silence my pleasure.

As my orgasm rushes over me, I hear his voice in my ear. “See, Talia. I will always take care of you. Just be mine.”

My eyes fly open, and my body shivers with the receding orgasm. The water has become cold, and I never got to wash my hair. Still, the fact that I just masturbated to the image of Caleb Marron fucking me—no, not fucking, making love––has me leaping from the shower and covering myself in a towel, my mind a mess of conflicting emotions. Deciding that it is just a basic need that needs to be met, I put on my pajamas and climb into bed.

I allowed myself this one moment of weakness, but it won’t happen again. I haven’t been with a man in years, and when I decide to take that step again, it cannot be with my enemy.

Of all the men in Texas, it cannot be Caleb Marron who gets that piece of me.

13

Caleb

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since the Halloween gala. Though the night raised over ten-million dollars for both Furious Hope and Unyielding, it isn’t the charity’s success that has that night playing over again in my head. No, that night is ingrained in my mind because of the woman that felt surprisingly right in my arms. Another rendezvous on a dance floor, but this time I’m not letting two years slip by before seeing her again.

Leaning back in my office chair and tapping my pen rhythmically on my desk, I ponder ways to present my proposition to Talia. The very unprofessional and scandalous proposition could earn me another slap to the face, but I would risk a hit for the chance to have more of Talia Stone.

The ink is dry on the contracts that give me control of Tanish Technologies, yet I’ve done nothing about it. When Lucy first offered me the shares, I saw the destruction of Tanish’s legacy right before my eyes. I thirsted for this day for years. Now when I have everything I need—I freeze.

All because of the alluring Talia Stone who left me wanting.

I know I am thinking with the wrong head, and I have talked myself out of making the call multiple times. Then a vision of Talia’s long strands gripped in my fist as I bend her over a spanking bench flood my mind, and I find myself picking up the phone and scheduling a meeting with her very disgruntled assistant.

Apparently, word got around S.T. that there is a new boss in town, and some are not too happy about it.

My desk phone beeps, and Lydia’s voice comes through the speaker. “Mr. Marron, a Miss Talia Stone is here for your one o’clock meeting.”

Standing, I button my suit jacket and adjust my cufflinks before pulling on the tie I removed this morning. “Thank you, Lydia. Give me two minutes, then send her in.”

“You don’t want me to escort her to the conference room?” she asks.

“No. Here is fine, and make sure we’re not disturbed.”

“Yes, sir.”

After finishing with my tie, I hit the button to frost the glass of my office. When a knock sounds on my door, I lift my eyes to see Talia standing behind my assistant, and I’m immediately captured by her ultramarine eyes. Her hair is styled in a simple up-do, and the silken skin of her neck beckons for my lips.

She turns to watch Lydia shut the door, then faces the frosted glass. “Nice. Is that so people don’t see you change into your Wendigo form right after you devour another victim?”

I chuckle at her reference to the mythical creature of the Algonquian people. Wendigos are malevolent and cannibalistic creatures. The human being would transform and become violent and obsessed with eating human flesh. Wendigos are the embodiment of gluttony, greed, and excess. I am impressed by the reference.

She turns her eyes back to me with a scathing look. “If I’m a Wendigo, I suppose I could refer to you as a Hydra,” I refer to the snake-like monster with many heads that spew acid. “Though with a much lovelier exterior,” I tease. “I assure you, Miss Stone, there is no cannibalism going on inside these walls.” She narrows her eyes at me, and I suspect she didn’t think I would get her Wendigo reference.

There are many things you don’t know about me, Talia.

“Please sit. Would you like any coffee, water, a shot of tequila perhaps?” At the latter, she scrunches up her nose, and I can’t help but notice how endearing the movement is.

“Nothing for me. Thank you.”

Nodding, I sit across from her, drop the single sheet of paper on the coffee table, and place my 22 KT gold Closer Teal Abalone fountain pen next to the paper. Glancing down at the form, she picks it up and quickly scans it before laying it back on the glass table. “Why are you giving me a NDA to sign? Just fire me already.” I see her temper rising, but behind that fire, I see devastation.

“I’m not firing you, Miss Stone.” At my words, her eyes widen in surprise before narrowing in suspicion. “I have a proposition for you. One that could have both of us getting what we want. But I won’t say anything further unless you sign that document.” She looks back to the NDA, and I see the hesitation as she chews the side of her lip. My cock hardens in my slacks, and my mouth waters to lick those lips. Clearing my throat, I reassure her. “Please know, by signing, you are not bound in any way to agree to my offer. It merely protects me from slander.”

She releases her lip from her teeth and picks up the page and pen. Scanning the words, she brings my pen to her lips and runs it along the two plump berries. “Talia,” I nearly growl.

She lifts her eyes from the page, and I can see she’s completely unaware of what she’s doing, and it’s hot as fuck. The woman has no idea she is the epitome of exquisiteness, sex, and all things naughty.

She lays the paper down and signs with a flourish of her hand. “There. I’ve signed it. Is this the part where you tell me you’re really a male escort and all this,” she gestures around the room, “is all a front to your real profession?”

I can’t help but laugh, and when I hear her responding chuckle, I abruptly stop to listen to the melodious sound. Her smile lights up the room, and I suddenly need to catch my breath. All too soon, though, her smile fades, and she straightens her spine.

“Though I have no doubt I could make quite a living as a male escort,” I wink, and she just rolls her eyes at my cockiness, “I’m afraid my parents wouldn’t be too proud to call me their son if I chose to go in that direction.”

She leans forward, placing her elbow on her crossed knee and her chin in her hand. “I don’t know. I’ve seen photos of you with them, and they seem to adore you. I bet you could do no wrong in their eyes.” I don’t think she’s even aware that she just gave me one of the greatest compliments. The slow thumping of my heart speeds up, and I rub at the ache in my chest. She tilts her head slightly at the action. “You okay? You’re not going to keel over right in front of me, right? I have a feeling everyone will think I killed you.” A finely shaped eyebrow tips up, and a smirk plays on her lips.

“As well they should. After all, you did just compliment me, and the shock of it could put me in cardiac arrest.”

She lets out an un-ladylike snort and crosses her arms over her chest. “Spill, Marron. If you’re not firing me, then what is your plan? Why am I here?”

Her question is the opening I need, so I don’t beat around the bush. “I want you to be my submissive.”

She looks at me for a long moment before bursting into laughter. “Hilarious, Marron,” she says through fits of laughter. After wiping away tears of laughter, her eyes swing to mine. I make sure to keep my face stoic. When she realizes it’s not a joke, her spine straightens again, and her mouth gapes slightly. The thought of plunging my tongue deep into her mouth and tasting her desire has me running my tongue over my top teeth, and I see her breath hitch at the movement.

“You’re serious? Like for real serious? You’re…” I see a blush cross her cheeks, and I try to hide my smirk by gliding my fingertips over my lips, “into that…stuff?”

I can see she’s nervous and a bit uncomfortable. Any decent person would comfort her, but not me. I push her to spell out her question. “What stuff is that?” When she doesn’t answer, I prompt her again. “Miss Stone, be specific, please. I would hate for there to be any misunderstandings.” I lean forward, bracing my forearms on my knees.

She briefly looks over my shoulder in contemplation before her eyes come back to mine. Caribbean blue to electric green. “Well, I’m assuming since you said you wanted me as your submissive, then that means you’re,” she pauses to gather her words, “a dominant.” It’s not a question, and the way her voice goes breathy on the word dominant has me thinking little Miss Stone is not unfamiliar with the world I have embraced. For reasons I don’t wish to explore, the thought has my hackles rising. Then I remember her laughter and her assumption that I was joking, and my blood cools. Anyone in the lifestyle wouldn’t joke about asking someone to be their submissive or dominant.

“You would be correct. I’m a member of Translucent, an exclusive club that caters to all things kink.” I pull out Cassandra’s card, and when she hesitantly takes it, I make sure my index finger grazes her palm. At her responding gasp, electricity shoots up my arm, and that familiar pull in my groin has me uncomfortably hard. I cross my ankle over my knee and lean back against the plush faux leather chair. Her eyes study the card with open curiosity. “Cassandra is available to answer any questions you may have about the club and my involvement. Although if you agreed, I would prefer that you ask me directly if you have any questions.”

Still looking at the card in her hand, she finally speaks, “I… Why…” she stammers, seeming afraid to ask questions.

I’m quick to reassure her. “It’s alright, Talia. You can ask me anything you need. I’m sure this is quite a shock.”

She tilts her head from side to side and screws her lips into a pout. “Actually, it’s not.” At my surprised look, she explains, “I’ve met with a lot of high-powered men, Caleb. I know what a man of power––authentic power—looks like. Many of them try to pass off as in control, and maybe in business, they are, but outside of those suits, they’re weak.” Her eyes bore into mine. “But not you. You come off as a dick because you refuse to let your control slip. Same as me.”

I study the conundrum that is Talia Stone and wonder if her words would still ring true for her if I were to leap over this table and kiss her like a woman of her grace and beauty should be kissed—with passion, domination, and devotion. The type of kiss that worships and exalts.

When long seconds pass with neither of us speaking, I stand and grab the contract from my desk. Extending the pages to her, she takes them, her eyes never leaving mine. She looks down at the contract then lifts a brow at me. “Did you just Fifty-Shades me?” I see her trying to suppress a grin, and the playful banter between us seems to become natural. I like it.

“Take some time to read it over. The gist of it is that if you agree, for a period of time, you will act as my submissive, and in return…” I pause.

“In return?” she echoes.

Be sure this is what you really want, Marron.

I know the risk I’m taking. I also know what I will be giving up if she agrees. I’ve thought through my decision for two weeks, so with my resolve intact, I continue, “In return, I will give you the one percent you need to gain the controlling interest of S.T.”

Her sudden gasp tells me she wasn’t expecting my offer, and her eyes begin to film with tears, but before her emotions can spill over, she looks back at the contract. Flipping through the pages, she seems to be searching for something. “Is that in here? And for how long?”

Her question has hope soaring in my chest, and I have to contain the sigh of relief that wants to escape my lungs. “It’s all in there. Of course, the nature of our ‘relationship’ is not explicitly outlined. It only states that you and I will enter into a non-specific business venture together for a time to be determined. At the satisfactory completion of said venture, you will be gifted one percent of my shares.”

“Wow, very thorough. You’re a true romantic, Caleb Marron,” she quips.

Taking my seat, I make sure her eyes are on mine. I need to make sure she understands what this will be between us. “Let’s make sure we understand each other, Talia. You would be my submissive, not my girlfriend. I’m not interested in being romantic or courting you. If you agree to this, we will explore your boundaries and enjoy each other’s bodies, and I will bring you pleasure that you’ve never experienced.” She cast her eyes down before catching herself, but not before I see the brief glimpse of shame flash in her angelic eyes.

“And this would only extend to the bedroom? I mean, you won’t try to dominate me while we are outside the club?”

“Correct. Though not all of our scene interactions will be at the club.” At her look of confusion, I explain, “There may be times where we go to my penthouse at the M.H.T building.”

“Of course, you have a fuck pad,” she snickers, and I’m quick to correct her assumption.

“My penthouse is only there for when I work late, which tends to happen a lot, and I don’t feel like driving to my house on the lake.”

“Then why would our interactions take place there? If you don’t take women there to fuck, I mean?” It’s a good question. One I don’t have an answer to. I stand, and without answering, extend my arm toward the door.

“I’m sure you will want to look the contract over with your lawyer. Will a couple of weeks be sufficient time for you to decide?”

She stands and places the contract in her leather satchel. “That should be plenty of time.” She extends her hand to me, and I have to prepare myself for the fireworks that are sure to explode along my skin at her touch. Sure enough, when our hands meet, the little fuckers fire across my body. “Good afternoon, Mr. Marron.”

“Miss Stone.”

She walks to the door, her hips swinging, and my eyes are immediately drawn to her luscious ass. Before exiting, she looks over her shoulder, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. It’s then that I realize the extra swing in her hips was purposeful.

Little vixen.

14

Talia

Caleb’s offer has played over in my head a million times in the last week. So much so that Michael has had to subtly get my attention during board meetings when I would drift off into a world full of Caleb Marron. When he approached me about my distracted state, I told him I was trying to think of ways to save the company. It isn’t a lie. I really am trying to think of every angle I can to get those shares. But no matter what path I take, it always comes back to signing that contract.

When I took the contract to my attorney, his eyes nearly bugged out of his head. He knows Caleb Marron and his reputation. Caleb agreeing to hand over the share I need is unprecedented, and my attorney advised me to jump on the deal.

So here I sit, tapping my pen on the desk, staring holes into the contract in front of me. All I have to do is place pen to paper and sign. But can I follow through? I never go back on a deal, and if I sign this, then that is it.

My mind begins to wonder what Caleb may have me do––or what he would do to me. It does say any details can be amended or renegotiated—I assume that means he and I would discuss what I’m willing to do and not do. My mind fills with the image of Caleb’s hand on my ass––red from a spanking. His lips on mine as he takes me hard and fast. I hear his wicked words in my ear as he ties me to the bed and pulls orgasm after orgasm from my body. My thighs clench at the image in my head, but soon the fantasy fades, and a shadowy figure enters my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut and will the image away.

He’s locked away. He can’t get to me anymore. I am safe.

I repeat the mantra my therapist taught me repeatedly and growl at the unwanted reminder of my past because I know my past demons are the only things keeping me from signing this contract. Caleb may get on every last one of my nerves, and he may even be the biggest ass in the world, but I can’t deny my body’s reaction to him. I can’t deny how my name on his lips makes me feel protected. I may be a fool, but it’s a feeling I’ve never felt with another. I trust Michael and Felicia with my life, but what I feel in Caleb’s presence is something completely different. A pull that can’t be described.

I pick up the contract and run my finger over his elegant yet masculine signature. I never feel that bit of dread in the pit of my stomach with Caleb. I never hear the warning bells in the background like the ones I ignored with him. If I really think about it, all I have ever felt with Caleb is strength and undeniable desire––when I don’t want to kill the smug bastard, that is.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I sign my name, then call my assistant in.

“Yes, Miss Stone?”

“Judith, I need this sent to Caleb Marron at Marron House Technologies. It’s to go straight to him. He’s expecting it.”

Judith’s eyes widen slightly as she tries to hide her smirk. “Yes, ma’am. I will personally deliver it to M.H.T. after my lunch break.”

At her pinking cheeks, I snicker. “I bet you will.” I wink at the older woman, and she places her hands on her heated face before taking the contract and exiting my office. Caleb Marron even has sixty-year-old women drooling over him.

I am back to the day-to-day business at hand when Michael walks in––hands placed firmly on his hips. I feel terrible for keeping Caleb’s offer a secret, but I don’t want my friend to see me as desperate or worse––a whore.

“Okay, Stone, enough is enough. You’re going to tell me what has you so distracted. And don’t give me that bullshit about thinking of ways to save the company. If that were true, you would have come to me. So spill!” His deep brown eyes are stern, but they hold tenderness right beyond the surface. I can tell he is worried about me, and it crushes my heart.

Walking to my friend, I wrap my arms around his waist and rest my head against his hard chest. He lets out a deep sigh and squeezes me tight. “Come on, Tai. You know you can tell me anything.”

Looking up into his deep mocha eyes, I see flecks of gold dance in the morning sunlight. “I know I can, but when I tell you one thing, it will lead to another. It’s something I never spoke about to anyone else.”

Squeezing me tighter, he makes me a promise. “I will always love and care about you, Talia. We’re family in every way that matters. My love and support doesn’t come with conditions or judgment.”

Smiling, I gesture for him to take a seat in the suede guest chair. Walking to my desk phone, I tell Judith to cancel any meetings Michael and I have for the next two hours.

“Yes, ma’am,” Judith’s disembodied voice chirps.

“The next two hours.” He rubs the shadow of hair on his chin. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“No,” I say simply and begin telling him everything. I tell him about the beatings, the loss, and by the time I get to the deal Caleb offered me, Michael looks fit to explode.

Once I’ve finished, I can only stare at my very pissed off friend. “Michael? Please just talk to me. Don’t lecture me. Don’t threaten to kill anyone. Just talk to me,” I plead.

His eyes land on mine, and he lets out a deep breath––calming himself. “Let’s put aside the asshole who hurt you. He’s locked up, so not much I can do right now anyway. Let’s talk about Marron and his offer.” His eyes narrow on me, and I return the look. “Talia, what do you want me to say? I’m not going to judge you for it. I already told you that. Hell, you don’t think if a hot ass woman asked me to be her boy toy for a little while, I wouldn’t snatch it up?”

“There’s a difference. I’m doing this for monetary gain. Isn’t that… wrong?” I pick at my DIY manicure as a way to avoid Michael’s eyes.

“Talia, babe look at me.” Chewing my lip, I look at my friend. “Put aside the bullshit with Caleb. If you met this guy through normal means and he asked you for this, would you say yes?”

I only have to think for a split second to know the answer. I want this, and I want it with Caleb.

“Yes. I think it will be a bit scary, but when I think of the… stuff we may do, I get excited.”

Michael slaps the arms of his chair. “There you go. I get that the monetary aspect makes you feel,” he bobbles his head, “cheap. But again, you would have said yes even if there was no financial gain.” He stands and comes to kneel in front of me. Grasping my shoulders, he looks me square in the eye. “You are in control, Talia. No matter the title he takes during your time together. Submissives have all the power. You tell him to stop, and he stops.”

“You seem to know a lot about this stuff.” I giggle, but he continues as though I never spoke.

“If you decide you can’t go through with it, then we give Marron this fucking company and find our own way. Because Talia Wren Stone, I will be by your side the whole way. No. Matter. What,” he declares, and his words have my eyes stinging with unshed tears.

I lean in and place my forehead against his. “I know.”

“Good.” He stands and lifts my hand to help me from my chair. “Now there’s only one thing you have to worry about.”

“What’s that?” I ask, walking back to my desk.

“Falling in love,” he states, and before I can respond, he walks out the door.

Caleb Marron may be God’s gift to women when it comes to sex, but I know the score. He isn’t in it for love, and neither am I. We will have our sexy fun together, and I will get my controlling share. Caleb Marron is just a means to an end. After all––like Michael said––I’m in control.

15

Caleb

The contract is in front of me, but it doesn’t seem possible. I keep wanting to pick it up and examine the signature scrolled along the bottom page. She signed it. She actually signed the damn thing.

Over the past week, I debated whether I should call her and tell her to forget the whole thing. Any normal person would just call her and ask her out. Then when the undeniable chemistry exploded between them, they would end up in bed. But then again, I’m not “normal.” I don’t have the time or inclination to date. I don’t mind being with the same woman more than once, but I strictly keep it within our dominant and submissive roles. We are not a couple, we are not love-struck, and under no specific terms are they allowed to disclose the nature of our relationship to anyone, but something makes me want to be different with Talia. She challenges me. She is intelligent, beautiful, and could hold her own.

When I saw her in that tight little black dress and gold heels at Club Domain two years prior, I imagined pulling up that dress to find her bare underneath. I would have bent her over a spanking bench––her perky ass on display—as I brought a paddle down on her porcelain skin. Her skin would bloom pink like a spring rose, and her core would weep with need. And it would all be at my hands.

My slacks become tight, and the contract in front of me seems to glow in the setting sun. As soon as her assistant dropped off the signed papers, I called Translucent and scheduled a special playroom for this Friday night. This particular room is tame compared to the standard rooms I usually occupy, but I know I need to go slow with Talia. Her eyes told me she was intrigued and even turned on by my proposition––then doubt clouds those blue orbs. Now that the papers are signed, I need to sit down with her and go over both sides’ expectations.

Pressing the intercom button, I ask Lydia to get Talia on the phone. “Yes, sir.” After what seems like minutes––but what is actually only seconds––Lydia speaks. “Sir, Miss Stone is on line three.”

Taking in a deep breath, I release the air slowly before picking up the receiver. “Good evening Miss Stone.”

“Good evening. I can only assume you’re calling to let me know you received the paperwork?”

All business. I smile to myself before answering. “I did receive it. Thank you for being so prompt. Although you never seemed like a woman to hesitate, especially when you know what you want.”

“I think the want is mutual, wouldn’t you say, Mr. Marron? Seeing as you’re the one who presented this particular business venture to me?” This woman doesn’t let me get away with anything, and I can’t wait to see how she pushes every single boundary.

“Touché. I wanted to invite you to dinner this evening. I believe going over our expectations and boundaries before our first scene would be wise.” When I’m met with silence, a bolt of dread courses through me.

Is she backing out already?

“Of course.” I let out a relieved breath. “But nowhere fancy. I’ve been in meetings all day, and I just want to go somewhere I can relax.”

“Sure. I could pick you up at seven––”

“No!” The one word is abrupt, and my eyebrow tips up in question. “I’ll meet you there. Just send me the address.” She doesn’t leave room for argument.

“Okay. Do you have a personal preference?”

“I was born and raised in Texas, Mr. Marron, so Mexican is always a good choice. Otherwise, I love anything from Italian to burgers.” Such a simple piece of information shouldn’t send warmth throughout my chest, but I find myself wanting to know every little detail about her.

And that fact scares the shit out of me.

I arrive at Flaming Taco––a local hot spot with the best tacos known to man––right before seven and grab one of the last remaining tables. When the waitress––whose name tag identifies her as Kristie––comes to the table, she bats fake eyelashes at me and twirls a lock of chestnut hair. It’s annoying as fuck, and when I tell her that I’m waiting for my female companion, it doesn’t seem to slow her pursuit to get what she wants.

My irritation rises, and when I’m about to tell her to back the fuck off, the doors open, and Talia walks in. Her hair lifts in the fall wind, and she’s backlit by the twinkling patio lights. She looks like an angel––a sexy as hell angel. Her eyes lock on mine, then swing to the waitress, who has proceeded to lean in to show off her very ample breasts. However, I couldn’t care less because my eyes are glued on Talia. She’s wearing skinny jeans that hug every one of her curves. Her blue sweater is tight on her breasts and extends to just below her apple-cheeked ass. The sweater’s swoop neck isn’t revealing, but it teases at what lies beneath. And on her feet, she dons a hideous pair of blue and black snowflake Doc Martin boots. They’re worn, and the snowflakes have begun to fade, but somehow she makes them look like a million bucks.

Like a man hypnotized, I find myself standing to greet the blonde angel. I can’t help the smirk that lifts my lips when Talia gives me a Cheshire Cat grin and steps in front of the determined waitress.

Talia’s lips land on my bearded chin, and instantly my skin erupts into fireworks—the little bastards sending a direct line of communication to my dick. I turn my head, and my lips graze the side of hers right before she pulls away to look at me.

“Hey, baby. Did you order yet?” Her hand lands on my chest, and I feel her fingers flex against my hard pec. She’s staking her claim. Not one to be outdone, I wrap my arm around her waist and plant a tender kiss on the side of her neck just under her chin, and her quiet gasp has me wanting to explore more of her––people be damned.

“No. I just got here, angel, and,” I look to the waitress, “Kristie was just about to take our drink orders.”

Talia turns her head in Kristie’s direction and addresses her as if she just noticed her presence.

“Oh, great. I’ll take a draft.” She pulls herself from my embrace.

With my eyes on Talia, I dismiss Kristie. “I’ll have the same. Thanks.” Pulling Talia’s chair out for her, I make sure to place a hand on the small of her back as she sits. Every touch is like an aphrodisiac.

“I’ll be right back with those.” Kristie sneers. Long gone is the sweet, flirtatious tone from before, and I can’t help but chuckle at the coy look on Talia’s face.

“You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t have them spit in your taco.”

She just shrugs. “Were you flirting with her?”

My head jerks back at her question. “No. In fact, I told her I was expecting someone. A female, someone to be exact.”

“Thought so. Little girls need to know their place. When a man doesn’t show interest, you need to back off. You could have had a wedding ring on, and she wouldn’t have cared until she was presented with the woman who claimed you.” Again she shrugs as though her words didn’t just send a bolt of electricity to my cock.

“Claim me, huh? Is that what you just did, Talia Stone? Claim me?”

“For all tense and purposes, yes. That’s one thing I will not sway on.” At my questioning look, she continues, “If we’re going to do this, then it’s only you and me.” When I go to speak, she holds up her hand. “I’m not making this stipulation because I want a commitment, romance, or anything like that. I just don’t want to be known as Caleb Marron’s side piece. And if you’re seen entertaining other women, that’s exactly how I will be seen. But, the biggest reason is that it’s just gross. I’m sorry, but knowing another chick has been rubbing herself all over the same man––casual or not––just grosses me out.”

I respect her honesty. A lot of men would run from her statement, especially a man like me, who knows attachments of the romantic kind are too much of a distraction. But when it comes to taking on a submissive, I am a one-woman man and tell her that. “Talia, during our time together, you will be the only woman in my bed and on my arm. And I would never let you be seen as a side piece. You may not believe this, but I respect every woman I take as my submissive.”

She gives me a simple nod before the same waitress takes our food order, and when the waitress leaves with a scathing look at Talia, she shakes her head. “I’m definitely getting something special in my food.” She chuckles.

We laugh and make small talk throughout our meal, and it all comes so easy––too easy. I shift our plates to the side and set my elbows on the table, and I don’t miss Talia’s eyes trailing over my exposed biceps.

“So, you’ve told me your expectations, and I told you mine.” She tilts her head in question. “No romance, no thoughts of something past what this arrangement is.” She nods in acknowledgment, so I continue. “Now, let’s talk about limits. I don’t expect you to know all your limits, and I will start off slow, but is there anything you will not do or allow to be done to you?”

She chews the side of her lip, which I’ve come to realize she does when she’s nervous or frustrated. Running agitated fingers through her hair, she exhales heavily. “No marks. I’ve read up on the different levels of… punishment, and I refuse to go to the level that leaves bruises––temporary or not.”

“Not my style. I may turn your ass red with my paddle, but I will never leave bruises.” She shifts in her chair, and the change in her breathing tells me she’s not against the idea.

“Okay. Good. Oh, and stop means stop. Like you said, I know what I want, and if I say stop, it means I don’t want it. So no need for a safeword.”

I want to argue. I’ve never allowed a sub to not have a safeword. Sometimes the fear of the new or unknown has them saying stop. Even the pleasure can become so overwhelming they scream the word. In those instances, I use physical cues to gauge if stopping is what they truly want. When a safeword is used, I know they mean they truly reached their limit. But something about the resolve in Talia’s eyes tells me she is telling the truth. No means no, and stop means stop. It is as easy as that for her.

“Done. Anything else?”

She thinks for a moment. “What did you mean ‘on your arm’? I thought this was strictly sexual. Nothing outside the bedroom?”

“For the most part, yes, but sometimes I will have you accompany me to an event.”

She drops her head back on her shoulders. “Caleb, that will make me look exactly like your side piece. That, or it will put out speculation, and––”

“Talia, I am your best chance at gathering support for Stone Technologies. I wouldn’t have you accompany me to any event until I knew we were a good fit. Because when I do, I would be talking you up, helping you market yourself and S.T.”

Her eyes widen, and a smirk crosses her lips. “So, I would have the Caleb Marron pimping Stone Technologies? Hmm, that is an exciting incentive.” I can’t hold back my laugh, and when Talia follows with her own, something in my chest tightens, and I have to swallow the lump in my throat.

What the hell is this woman doing to me?

“Something like that. I have a room at Translucent set aside for this Friday. I’ll pick you up at nine. I would like you to wear the black dress and gold heels you wore at my club.”

She snares her plump bottom lip between her teeth. “So, I did leave an impression that night?”

She has no idea. “You had my cock in your hand Talia, and when you could have cowered at my words, you bit back.”

And it was fucking hot.

“Strange that you liked me standing up to you, then turn around and want me to submit to you.” It is a valid point, but she obviously doesn’t understand the true strength in being submissive to another.

“To submit control to another person is a powerful thing, Talia. I’m not taking your submission. You’re giving it to me.”

“Then aren’t I the one in charge?” Her question is genuine, and I love how inquisitive she is.

“Some could see it that way. You allow me access to your pleasure. You obey my commands, and in return, I reward us both with unimaginable pleasure. When you allow me control over your body, you show an immense amount of trust and respect for me as your Dom, your guide, and in a sense, your protector.” She audibly swallows on the last word, and I have to wonder why.

Does she not feel safe? Is she in danger?

My heart pumps pure acid through my veins at the thought of Talia being hurt or in trouble. “Is there anything I should know, Talia?”

Her eyes shift to the side slightly. “Like what?”

I tap my finger on the table––a sign of agitation. She’s hiding something, and I won’t tolerate it. “Forget it. I don’t play games, Miss Stone. For this to work, you have to trust me, and it’s clear you’re hiding something.” I go to stand, but she catches my hand with a firm grip.

“Okay. You’re right.” I sit and wait for her to speak. She fidgets with the paper napkin on the table before finally speaking. “I… I haven’t been with someone in a while.”

I’m thrown by her statement. “How is that possible? Not that I think you’re the type to hop into just anyone’s bed, but you’re gorgeous and sexy as hell. How have you not landed in some stud’s bed?” I wink, and her cheeks turn pink at my compliments.

“I was with my high school sweetheart for years, and he wasn’t the nicest guy. I guess he just turned me off of the whole dating thing, and as you said, I’m not the type to jump into bed with someone––well, until now,” she muses, but my sense of humor flees the moment she mentions her ex not being a nice guy. I want to demand details but decide it’s best we move forward.

“Oh, and back to you picking me up. That’s another no-go. I will meet you at the club or whatever event we’re to attend.”

“No,” I say with finality.

“Caleb––”

“We will show up to events together, Talia. And there will be times I will want to fuck you spur of the moment. So if your place happens to be close, we will go there.” I see her cheeks redden and her pupils dilate at my statement.

Then she’s shaking her head. “My home is my sanctuary, Caleb. The place I go to be separate from the world outside those walls. I’m asking you to grant me that space.”

Her words are a plea––and though I don’t want to, I agree. With one amendment. “Fine, but I can’t have us showing up to events separately, so we will need to figure out a plan for those nights.”

“Not a problem. I’ll give you Michael’s address, and you can pick me up there on those nights.”

At the mention of Michael Saunders, my hackles rise, and the instinct to claim her right here and now becomes so intense I have to look away from her to compose myself.

“You spoke about not wanting women rubbing all over me. I expect the same, Talia,” I practically growl the words.

“Michael and I are friends, Caleb, and I won’t give him up because you want to piss on my leg in ownership. I told you I haven’t been with anyone in years, and I meant it. Michael is family.” Her words soothe the savage in me, and I take a steadying breath. This woman has me tripping over myself and turning into something I don’t recognize.

“Does he know?” I don’t have to expand on my question. She knows what I’m asking.

“Yes, he knows, and he respects my decision. So long as I’m not harmed in the process, he won’t interfere. And I know I went against the NDA, but like I said, he’s family. He won’t say a word.”

“Then maybe he and I will get along after all,” I jest.

She rolls her eyes. “Two alpha males watching over me. What have I gotten myself into?” she asks, more to herself.

Laughing, I stand and extend my hand for her to take. With her warm hand in mine, I lead us out of the restaurant. “Where are you parked?”

“A few stores down.” She indicates her right, and I start in the direction of her car. “Caleb, you don’t have to walk me to my car. This is one of the safest cities in DFW.”

I stop abruptly and turn her. With my hand on her hip, I press her against a shadowed wall near the restaurant. Digging my hand in her hair, I gently tug her head back so her eyes are locked on mine. And just like at the gala, my dominant hold has her breath quickening and her pupils dilating.

“You are mine now, Talia. Let this be your first official lesson. You will not question me when it comes to your pleasure or your safety. If I want my whole team at Marron House Security, guarding you twenty-four-seven, then you will let me. Do you understand?” I grate, my voice hoarse with possessiveness.

When I fear she will buck against my authority––once again, Talia Stone surprises me. “Yes. I understand,” she breathes, and my lips feather over hers. The need to take those lips has my skin heating and my dick turning rock solid.

I make it a point not to kiss my submissives on the lips. It’s too personal, and it gives them hopes of keeping me. I can’t allow that. I can’t let myself slip with Talia. Because if I make an exception for her, then there is no telling how many other rules she will have me breaking.

Pulling away from her, I grab her hand, and we begin walking again. I can hear her trying to steady her breathing, and a smirk plays on my lips. I feel a tug on my hand when she comes to a stop in front of an old Chevy truck. Though it looks to be in good shape, the idea of the old dog breaking down on the side of the road has me backing away with her hand still in mine.

“Oh, come on, Marron. Don’t be a snob. George here is as faithful and trustworthy as any fancy new car on the line,” She giggles, and I find myself wanting to hear more of the sound.

“George?” I ask.

“Yeah. You know…like Curious George,” she explains bashfully.

It’s then I notice the entire truck is a bright yellow—aside from the black hood. “George was the monkey, though. The man in the yellow hat wore all yellow.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and the grin that stretches her lips have my cheeks heating. I just granted her a small glimpse into my personal life, my childhood.

“So, you watched Curious George, huh?” Her question isn’t teasing, more like curious––no pun intended.

“He may have taught me a thing or two.” I shrug and hear her lyrical giggle again.

“You’re cute when you blush,” she teases, but I don’t find it funny.

I growl and clutch her to me. Her hands immediately go to my chest, and I hiss at the sudden touch. Her eyes meet mine, ocean blue to electric green.

“I don’t take kindly to someone making fun of me, Miss Stone.” I squeeze her tighter in warning. I’ve had enough people in my past make fun of me. I sure as shit don’t need it from her.

She tilts her head slightly, and her smile drops. She places a hand on my scruffy cheek and softens her eyes. “I wasn’t making fun of you, Caleb. It was just nice to see you a little vulnerable for once.” At that word, I release her like she’s on fire. Vulnerable? Fuck no! I would never leave myself vulnerable to anyone. People get hurt that way. Jax got hurt that way. I let my guard down, and my best friend nearly paid with his life.

Ice sweeps through my veins, sealing up the cracks Talia’s warmth has created. “Don’t mistake my behavior as vulnerability, Miss Stone. If you’re looking for someone soft, someone you can make pliable, then this needs to end now. I am your Dom, not your boyfriend, not your lover, and not your friend,” I sneer.

She steps back as though I struck her. “What are you talking about? What the hell just happened? I wasn’t asking you to be soft or pliable, Caleb. I just thought seeing you be anything but a complete ass was nice. I know what we are. We are enemies. Enemies that will take what they want from each other, then say goodbye when it’s all over.”

Running frustrated hands through my hair, I give Talia my profile––taking a moment to calm my racing pulse. Turning back to her, I see her guard is up, and I tell myself it’s for the best. “I just want to make sure you understand the situation. I can’t––I won’t be weak for you, Talia. I won’t be weak for anyone.”

“I understand the situation. Now, are we still proceeding, Mr. Marron?” Her tone is all business, and it comforts my need to keep her at a distance.

“Yes. I will pick you up from Mr. Saunders’ residence Friday evening at nine sharp.”

With no more than a nod, she climbs into the old truck and starts up the engine, and without a backward glance, she drives away.

And with the glow of her taillights in the distance, I feel the ice around my heart begin to crack all over again.

16

Talia

Friday seems to come all too soon as I stand in front of Michael’s bathroom mirror, scrutinizing my reflection. I decided to keep my hair and make-up simple, and I’m dressed in the black dress and gold shoes requested––or more like demanded.

My heart thumps in my throat, and I can’t stop fidgeting with the hem of my dress. I spent the entire week studying up on what might happen tonight. Most of what I discovered excites me as much as it frightens me. I am not afraid that Caleb will hurt me––not like he did––but I am still scared that any type of pain will trigger me. I want this with Caleb, and I will be mortified if I freak out on him.

“Calm down, Tia.” Michael’s voice has me jumping. I lock eyes with his reflection, and I see the concern in those deep chocolate depths.

“You’re afraid I won’t be able to handle it,” I accuse.

“I’m not worried you can’t handle what will happen during your time together. I’m worried you may not be able to handle it when it’s over.” I look at him in confusion. He sighs and rests his hip against the counter. “Talia, you’re not one to love ’em and leave ’em. Your heart gets involved.”

“How would you know? I haven’t even tried to date in years.” My temper begins to bubble, and I turn to face him.

“Because I know for a fact you’ve been having lunch with Lucy Brakin about twice a week the last two weeks.” He folds his arms across his large chest.

I shrug. “So? How does that mean my heart is involved?”

“Because before you spoke to her at the gala, you were basically enemies, and now I see you getting attached to her. Tell me you haven’t come to care for her, and I’ll shut my mouth.” I bow my head and pick at my nails. “That’s what I thought. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing that you care so easily––”

“Sounds like it,” I murmur.

“But in this case, it is. Marron is a man-whore.” I open my mouth to argue that he doesn’t have room to talk when he lifts a hand. “I’m well aware I’m not any better, but that’s why I’m bringing it up. You falling for him isn’t going to end well.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Michael, and I appreciate your concern. But what makes this situation different is that I know from the beginning who and what Caleb is. I’m aware there will never be anything but sex and business between us.” I poke a finger in his steel abs. “Besides, maybe he will be the one falling in love, and I’ll be the one breaking his heart,” I tease.

He pulls me into a hug and kisses the crown of my head. “If anyone can make him fall, it would be you, Talia Stone.” He walks out of the room, and I take another look at myself in the mirror, smiling at the sex kitten look I’ve managed to pull off. The only reason I wore the dress two years ago was because Felicia made me buy it. She said it was to––in her words––bring out my inner sex siren.

I laugh at the memory and hear my phone chime with a text alert. I don’t recognize the number, but it’s local, so I open the message.

[Unknown: Been missing you, baby. I’ll see you soon.]

Chalking it up to a wrong number, I text back.

[Talia: Wrong number.]

I watch to make sure the text goes through, then silence my phone and put it in my clutch right as the doorbell chimes, announcing Caleb’s arrival.

After inhaling and exhaling a cleansing breath, I exit Michael’s room and head for the living room. When I enter, two sets of eyes swing in my direction, and while one set looks at me with brotherly affection, the other looks at me with unbridled lust.

Caleb approaches me, floats a hand down my arm, then brings my knuckles to his lips. “I thought I exaggerated how fantastic you looked in that dress.” He turns my hand over and lays a kiss on my palm. “But I’m happy to see I did not.” I blush at his compliment, and his finger traces the apple of my cheek. “That’s a beautiful color on you. Ready?”

Not at all.

I nod and kiss Michael on the cheek, and I don’t miss the low growl that comes from Caleb. With a possessive hand on the small of my back, he guides me out of the apartment to a gorgeous red Tesla Roadster. He opens the door for me, and I can’t help but smirk.

“Such a gentleman.”

Before I can get in the luxury car, I’m suddenly grasped by my arm and swung around to face him. He presses his body to mine, and I’m pinned between the vehicle and his very stiff erection.

“I take care of what’s mine,” he affirms, his words a whisper against my lips, and I lean in to make contact, only to have him lean away. His hand cups my chin, and lifting it, his thumb runs along my bottom lip. “And as of right now, Talia Stone, you are mine.” His thumb presses against my bottom lip until they part. “Suck.”

My nipples pebble, and my core clenches at his command. Without hesitation, I take his thumb in my mouth and suck like a porn star. My eyes shut as the taste of him explodes on my tongue, and I moan at the delicious treat. I’m imagining how his cock would taste and feel in my mouth when he abruptly pulls his thumb from between my lips, and my eyes spring open with his sudden withdrawal. He steps back from me and runs a hand through his shaggy hair, then grips the back of his neck as he stares at me.

His reaction confuses me. “Did I do something wrong?”

Tilting his head to the heavens, he seems to speak to himself before bringing his eyes back to me. “Get in. Cassandra is expecting us for drinks.”

Still confused, I climb in the passenger seat, and Caleb shuts me in before rounding the car and getting behind the wheel. When he presses the ignition, a sultry voice greets him. “Good evening, Mr. Marron,” the disembodied voice says, and I lift a brow at him. He just shrugs and puts the car in motion.

Without a gas engine, the car is silent, and after a couple of miles, the silence becomes unnerving. “Cassandra’s the one you told me to call if I had any questions?” I ask, breaking the silence.

“Yes, she’s one of the owners of Translucent. She and her husband own it.” He doesn’t go into why we’re expected to meet with the owner, and when I see his fingers white knuckle the wheel, I don’t push for more.

I have no idea what I did to make him ice me out, and the little hairs on the back of my neck begin to buzz with warning. His cold demeanor has old demons threaten to rise, but before they can take over, I remind myself I am in control. If I say stop, it stops. Caleb is not him. I am safe.

I feel Caleb’s hand on my thigh, and I flinch at the fire that his touch creates. Misunderstanding my reaction, his brow furrows, and he removes his hand from my thigh, but I’m quick to grab it and place it back.

“I was lost in thought. You just startled me. I want you to touch me, Caleb,” I reassure him.

His fingers flex on my thigh before he nods and continues to race around cars to get to our destination.

I’m not sure what I was expecting when I walked into Translucent. Maybe bodies writhing on beds, orgies, cages? But what I see when I walk hand and hand with Caleb is nothing short of opulence. The walls are covered in a deep purple silk, the different booths and bar stools are covered in a soft black leather. The chandeliers drip with crystals and cast a low––and surprisingly romantic—glow. There’s an elevated stage in the middle of the room, and two men are setting up various pieces of odd-looking furniture.

“The show will begin in twenty minutes,” Caleb whispers across my ear.

I turn stunned eyes on him and see the sensual smirk on his face. “There are going to be people having… doing that, right there?”

“Yes. The early shows are on the softer side of the spectrum, but they can be just as intense. This particular couple has been married about ten years, and they’re both performance artists, so they put on quite a show.” He studies me while I take in his words.

“So, it’s like a play? They’re performing?”

“Yes and no. They will put on a show, but all of it is real.” He leans in and places a soft kiss on my neck. “Including the fucking.”

My breath stumbles from my lips at his crude words, and I feel his smirk on my cheek. I turn to place my lips on his plump ones, but he turns his head before I can make contact.

“Come on, Casandra is waiting for us.” With a hand to my back, he guides me to the bar where a stunning and very tall woman places a drink in front of Caleb then sets her eyes on me.

“What can I get you, gorgeous?”

I blush at her compliment and order. “Whatever he’s having.” She nods then sets about pouring my drink. That’s when I see the prominent Adam’s apple, and my mouth drops open. I tilt my head to Caleb. “Is she––”

“Transgender? Yes. Her name is Jamie. Beautiful, isn’t she?” He smiles, and I can tell he has a deep respect for the woman.

“Incredibly beautiful. If it wasn’t for the Adam’s apple, I wouldn’t have known. Even still, holy shit, she’s hot.”

I hear Caleb chuckle next to me. “That she is. I offered to help fund the tracheal shave, but the woman has a set of pipes on her that could match any Grammy winner. She said she didn’t want to risk her voice.”

Jamie places my drink in front of me, and I can’t help but admire her natural bone structure and violet eyes. “So, looks and talent. Double threat.” I sip my drink.

“And no gag reflex, so make that a triple threat.”

I choke on the warm liquid of my drink, and I hear Caleb’s hearty laugh beside me. Jamie gives me a saucy look then leans over. “And I may prefer the pole, but for you sweetheart, I would make an exception.” She winks, and I find myself blushing again.

“Back off, Jamie. Talia is mine.” The woman just shrugs then goes about helping other customers.

“Sorry, I’m late. Trevor got a little needy, and you know I can’t turn him away when he begs.” I turn to see a striking older woman standing behind me. Her whole being radiates class and control.

Caleb stands and presses an affectionate kiss to her cheek. Before he can introduce me, the woman turns in my direction and extends a perfectly manicured hand. “Cassandra Donahue.” Her hand is warm against mine, and her eyes light up at my touch. “You must be Talia. My, you are quite the specimen.” I can see the hunger in her eyes, and my eyes widen on Caleb, but he just sits at the bar, his lips in a permanent upward tilt.

“Umm, thank you. It’s nice to meet you. This place is beautiful.”

“Thank you, dear. As much as we charge for membership, we can’t possibly give our members anything but the best. Please sit. The show is about to begin.”

I swivel my stool toward the elevated stage just as a man steps up in nothing but a pair of deep crimson boxers, a petite, raven-haired woman stepping next to him. She’s in a sheer teddy, and I can see her nipples are already peaked and ready for the man’s ministrations.

A sultry Latin beat begins, and I feel Caleb move behind me, his strong arms wrapping around my waist. When he lays his chin on my shoulder, I melt into his hard chest.

“Watch them, Talia. Watch how they flawlessly move together, just like when we danced. Watch how he adores her for her submission and how she basks in his dominance.”

I nod and watch as the man strokes the woman’s cheek before he trails his fingers to her breasts. He plucks at her nipples, and the woman’s head rolls back in pleasure. Her moans echo around the room before the sound of a solid slap follows. I jump at the man’s hand landing on the woman’s bare ass.

“Easy, Talia. Tell me what you’re feeling,” Caleb whispers.

“Scared,” I swallow hard, “but turned on.”

I hear Caleb hum in approval. “If I were to reach under your dress, would I find you wet?”

Between watching the man suck the woman’s nipples and Caleb’s words against my neck, I can feel my panties dampen.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, I’m wet, Caleb.”

His hand inches down the front of my stomach until he reaches the hem of my dress. “I think I should check.”

I want to protest. I want to remind him of the others around us, but when his hand makes contact with the skin of my thigh, any concern of possible onlookers flies out the window. He strokes roughened fingers up my thigh until he reaches the moist fabric of my thong.

“Fuck, Talia. You’re soaked. Tell me, is it the scene in front of you or the man behind you?” I press my sex into his fingers that lightly stroke over the fabric. “Answer me, Talia,” he commands.

“Both,” I moan as I watch the man bend the woman over a padded bench, then pick up a paddle. When it comes down hard on her ass, I moan louder––matching the woman’s wanton need. “But I don’t see him and her.” Caleb’s fingers slide my thong to the side, and his fingers glide over my slick lips. My breath stills in my lungs at the heady feeling of lust ravaging my body.

“What do you see, angel?” His fingers move to my clit as he uses my pleasure to rub small circles over the bundle of nerves. My hips buck, and I thank God for the music because my moans are uncontrollable. When he pinches my clit, I yelp at the sting. “You’re not being very good, angel. Now answer me, or suffer the denial of your orgasm.”

I gather my breath and turn my cheek to his lips. “I see you. I see you doing those things to me.”

His sharp inhale tells me he’s pleased with my answer. “You want what she has? You want the bite of a paddle, a flogger, a cane?” He enters me with two thick fingers, and he presses his thumb down firmly on my clit.

“Yes, Caleb. I want that. Please don’t stop.” My hips swivel as I ride his fingers, and I don’t even recognize the woman that I have become at this moment.

“I’m not going to stop, but I want you to watch them. Watch him worship her. I’ll take care of you, angel.”

I do as he commands and gasp at the sight of the man pulling on a chain attached to the woman’s nipples. He drops his boxers and kicks them aside. The woman’s ass is a bright red, and her thighs are slick from her desire. The man kisses her shoulder before slamming into her with a roar. The woman screams in pleasure, and it only encourages the man to thrust harder, faster. I feel Caleb’s fingers mimic the man’s thrust as his thumb presses down hard on my clit.

I grind my ass into his very erect cock, and he growls in my ear before giving me one final command. “Come for me, Talia. Come all over my hand.”

As though his words have a direct line to my pleasure, my orgasm breaks free. His name on my lips can’t be contained as I ride his fingers to completion.

When I come down from my high, I see the stage lights have dimmed, and the couple is gone. “You were glorious. I’ve never seen a woman come so beautifully in my life. Look around, angel.”

My eyes cast around the room and find eyes that started out watching the couple on the stage are now staring at Caleb and me. The craving in their eyes has me turning my back to the room. I bury my face into Caleb’s stone-like chest.

But Caleb refuses to let me hide. He lifts my head with a finger under my chin. “Don’t hide. You are the epitome of sensuality. The way your body responded to my touch,” he groans against my cheek, “I’ll be the envy of every man in this room. Your moans of pleasure will have the women begging their partners for the same release.”

My cheeks––previously red from embarrassment––now deepen at Caleb’s praise. I don’t understand why I crave his approval, but I do.

“Are you ready to go to our room?” I chew on the side of my lip, and Caleb’s thumb pulls it free. “Don’t. You will make yourself bleed.” His concerned words have me melting. “Don’t be nervous, Talia. Tonight we take it slow.”

I look behind me to see the room has begun to empty. “That was slow?” I giggle, and Caleb’s eyes soften before they gloss over with hunger.

“That was to loosen you up. To show you what you’re capable of. Now, Miss Stone, are you ready?” He extends his hand to me, and I hear what he’s not saying. It’s my choice. I am in control. I decide whether to follow him into that room.

Without hesitation, I take his hand and let him guide me past several large rooms, all with gold numbers on their doors. And all made of glass. Some are fogged while most are transparent and open for anyone to watch as couples enjoy each other.

We come to a stop at room seven, but whereas the other rooms are glass, this one is completely concealed. Caleb produces a black card and scans it, much like a hotel keycard. The lock disengages, and he swings the door open before gesturing me inside. With a deep breath, I enter the room––and wow. The walls are the same purple silk, but where the main room was dim, this room is bathed in light. Another chandelier––though much smaller––hangs from the ceiling. Floggers, paddles, and other spanking instruments line one wall while another wall displays feathers, foxtails, and different styles of restraints. The room has a large black sofa facing a large mirror. It reminds me of a two-way mirror in a cheesy cop show. But the centerpiece of the room is the massive ebony four-poster bed. Thick velvet curtains hang from the canopy, and the sheets look to be made from some type of faux leather material.

Walking farther into the room, I feel Caleb’s eyes on me as I run my fingers across the bedding and up to the plush tapestry. As my hands float over the material, I notice the canopy has an intricate lattice system. I turn to Caleb in question.

He moves to stand next to me. “It’s used to restrain, with hands above your head,” he says. His green eyes never leave mine. I nod, then take in the room as a whole.

“So, this room is used for newbies?”

Caleb chuckles. “Not necessarily. Really it’s for anyone who wants to stay on the lighter side of the spectrum.” When I don’t respond, he takes me in his arms and lifts my chin. “Talia, you are safe. Through these sessions, we will learn each other’s desires. I will learn to read your body language. Although,” his fingers run down my spine, and I shiver in his hold, “your body already speaks to me.”

His lips hover above mine, and I wait for them to take mine. Instead, he leaves an open-mouth kiss on the pulse point of my neck. My head lolls to the side, giving him better access. “Talia,” he whispers against my skin before pulling back and looking into my eyes. He seems to be searching for something. But what––I don’t know.

With emerald eyes still locked on mine, he slowly pulls my dress off my shoulders then down my arms. Since the dress is backless, I didn’t wear a bra. At Caleb’s deep hum of appreciation, I let the dress pool at my waist.

With his eyes now latched onto my puckered nipples, he brings his knuckles to caress the sensitive peaks. “Fucking perfection,” he says more to himself than to me. My breathing accelerates as his eyes lock onto mine, and his mouth descends to take the hard bud of my nipple into his mouth, sending an electrical current straight to my clit.

My lips part in a gasp and my hands fly to his brown locks. His hands knead my breasts as he alternates between sucking and nipping at my nipples. When I think I will come from his lips on my breast alone, he kneels in front of me and begins to trail kisses down my stomach. When he reaches the fabric of my dress, he pulls the material down my body until he has me stepping out of it.

His lips are feather-soft as they brush over my mound, and even with the lace of my thong between his lips and my skin, I feel the searing heat of his mouth. My head falls back, and my eyelids flutter. His fingers hook the sides of my thong as he slowly drags the material down my legs until it joins my dress. He places both articles of clothing on the end of the bed before returning his lips to my skin.

His mouth runs a scorching line of kisses along my thigh. Each touch sends sparks of electricity to my clit. I can feel how wet I am, and when Caleb’s tongue leaves a trail of fire along my skin, I suddenly and desperately need his mouth on my pussy.

As though reading my thoughts, Caleb’s lips latch onto my buzzing clit, and I cry out in shock and ecstasy. My legs threaten to give out, but Caleb’s hold keeps me upright as he licks and sucks my pulsing center. My hands fist his hair, and when I look down at him, I see he’s already staring up at me. His tongue dips inside me, and I can’t hold back the moans that escape my chest.

“Caleb.” His name is a plea, and when I think he’s going to keep me just out of reach of my release, he removes his tongue from inside me and replaces it with two fingers. I suck in a shallow breath, and my hips buck when he massages a spot inside me that would have me flying through the ceiling if he didn’t have a hold on my hips. I feel the first sparks of my building orgasm, but it’s just out of reach––that is until Caleb clamps sheathed teeth on my clit.

I shoot off like a rocket. My eyes widen, then clamp shut as fireworks shoot from my core, and my head spins. “Caleb!” I scream as bolts of pleasure like I’ve never felt course through me, and this time my knees do buckle, but Caleb is there to catch me. Through my orgasmic haze, I can feel his body practically vibrating beneath my hands on his chest.

As I begin to come down from my high, I open my eyes to see green fire projected back at me. “I’ve never…” He seems to need to gather his thoughts. “That was incredible to watch, Talia.”

“It was literally my pleasure.” I giggle, and his responding smile sends warmth through my chest.

“Okay, angel, on the bed. Kneeling.” He kisses the tip of my nose then walks to the wall with the restraints and feathers. I follow his instructions and watch as he grabs a pair of thick leather restraints, then a leather flogger from the opposite wall.

He comes back to me, placing the flogger on the bed in front of me. “Wrists,” he demands and secures the restraints around my wrist, then slips a finger between it and my skin to test that they’re not too tight. Lifting the shackles by their brass hooks, he latches my wrist to the lattice above my head. My body lifts with the movement, and now my torso is stretched and fully open to him.

His head tilts slightly, and his teeth trap his bottom lip. My clit sparks to life again at the look of want and desire in his eyes. His hands are tender as they trace the deep curve of my waist before firmly grasping my hips.

“Remember. You say stop, and I stop. So make sure you mean it.” I nod, but it’s not enough for him. “Tell me you understand, angel.”

“I understand,” I say resolutely.

“Good. I’m going to give you ten lashes. They will increase in strength, but they will never break skin or bruise. If at any point it becomes too much, call out the number, and I will know not to go past that level of pain in the future. Do not try and be brave or think you have anything to prove, Talia. If the pain is too much and not pleasurable, then call out the number. Am I clear?” His tone leaves no room for argument.

“I understand, Caleb.”

He lays a gentle kiss on my shoulder, and my skin pebbles with goosebumps. “Good.” He picks up the flogger, and my breathing instantly stutters from my lips. “Relax, angel,” he whispers as his fingers ghost down my stomach until they reach my clit. I release a contented sigh as he strokes me tenderly, and I feel the soft leather tassels of the flogger kiss the skin of my ass.

As my need for release builds, both his fingers and the flogger suddenly leave my skin. I moan in protest, but I’m cut short when the flogger comes down on my ass. I gasp as the flogger makes contact, the sting from the tassels quickly morphing into burning pleasure—only made better when Caleb’s fingers come back to my clit. “How was that?” he asks, and a needy groan is my answer as his fingers move expertly along my swollen lips before dipping inside me. “Shall I continue?”

“Yes, please,” I breathe, and as soon as the last word leaves my mouth, his fingers are gone, and the flogger comes down again—this time with more bite. I suck in a sharp breath and wait for Caleb’s soothing fingers. This time they circle tenderly around my areola before they pinch my nipple, and the third lash comes down. My head tips back when I feel each leather tassel kiss my stinging skin.

Caleb continues to alternate between stroking my clit and pinching my nipples right before he lands each hit, and on the ninth strike, I cry out with want, need, desperation. My body is covered in sweat, and tears stream down my face as serotonin dumps into my veins.

“Do I need to stop? Don’t lie to me, angel.” His breathing is ragged and out of control. He’s a barely contained beast, and I want to set him free.

“No!” I shout. “Please don’t stop. Please, Caleb.” I turn pleading eyes to him.

The flogger comes down with a whistle, and my cry becomes a scream. The room fades, and my body surrenders to the crushing pleasure that follows the pain of the flogger’s kiss. My body convulses as the climax rips through me. Fire erupts in my veins, and my moans sound inhumane. When the final wave of my orgasm passes, I collapse, and suddenly I’m floating. When my body drifts back to earth, I feel softness beneath me, and my body is engulfed by strong, masculine arms.

“Rest, angel. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Releasing a long sigh, I snuggle closer to Caleb’s warm, hard body.

Sleep starts to sweep over me when I feel his lips move against my hair. “How the fuck am I going to let you go, Talia Stone?”

I place my hand over his thundering heart. “You don’t have to.”

As the haze of sleep consumes me, I hear him speak one last time. “Well. Fuck.”

17

Talia

Since that first night at Translucent, it’s like Caleb hasn’t left my side––though technically he has. After I woke from my orgasmic induced sleep that night, Caleb dressed me reverently and drove me back to Michael’s apartment. Walking me to the door, he placed a tender kiss on my forehead and refused to leave until I entered the apartment. I had planned to drive home, but I was so drained from my time with Caleb that I crashed on Michael’s couch the moment I stepped into his apartment. I didn’t hear from Caleb the rest of the weekend. And I didn’t attempt to make contact.

Now I stand nervously next to Caleb as we wait for the hostess at one of the swankiest restaurants in Fort Worth to walk us to our table. I’m so on edge that when Caleb places his hand on the small of my back, I jump slightly. Of course, the man doesn’t miss a thing and asks the hostess to give us a minute.

Caleb guides me to a small, secluded alcove by the bar with a hand to my elbow. “Talia, what’s going on? Why are you so jumpy?” he asks, concern evident in his tone.

Rubbing my clammy hands down the little black––yet modest––dress I borrowed from Felicia, I try to gather a calming breath. “I don’t know. I’ve done this plenty of times. I mean, it’s always been on S.T. territory, but typically these meetings don’t rattle me. I think…” I try to find a way to phrase my next statement and decide honesty is the best way to go. “I think it’s you,” I murmur and wait for his face to morph into a look of anger. Instead, I get a broad boyish smile.

“So, I rattle you, Miss Stone?” he teases, pure sex dripping from his tone. My nipples harden, and my cheeks heat with lust.

“Mr. Marron, we are in a professional atmosphere. I expect you to behave as such,” I reprimand with no real condemnation.

He leans into my personal space, and his lips are a whisper away from mine when he speaks. “Would it help if I told you that I’m just as affected by you? That all I can think about is shoving that little dress of yours to your waist, ripping the panties from your body, and diving deep inside your tight, sweet pussy?” He brings our bodies flush, and I can feel his desire press against my belly.

“Caleb,” I whisper.

“Fuck. You have no idea what having my name on your lips does to me.” He takes my hand, which is shielded from the room and presses it against his hard cock. “See? See how you affect me, angel? The power you have?” My eyes stare into his, and though this moment is erotic and sexual in nature, I can hear the words he’s not saying.

You are in control. You are a woman of power and strength.

It’s exactly what I need to calm my nerves and bring my head back into the game, but not before giving Caleb’s cock a teasing squeeze before releasing him. “Minx,” he growls as I saunter past him with an exaggerated swing to my hips. I hear him curse under his breath before he takes his position next to me and instructs the hostess to lead the way.

We come to a four-top table where two older gentlemen I now know to be Captain Thomas Sanger and Jack Tolley are already seated. The two men immediately stand and extend their hand to Caleb, and I would be insulted if it weren’t for the fact that this isn’t my meeting. That and the fact that Caleb assured me he won’t allow me to look like a piece of arm candy.

“Gentlemen. Thank you for coming. This is Talia Stone. CEO of Stone Technologies,” he states proudly, and I can’t help the flurry of butterflies that take flight in my stomach at the knowledge that he’s proud of me.

At their twin looks of surprise, I extend my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.” They take turns shaking my hand, both still silent.

“Please sit,” Caleb says as he pulls out my chair, and the two men immediately sit. While Mr. Tolley gives me a broad smile, Captain Sanger looks at me with open curiosity, no doubt wanting to ask the obvious question of why I’m here. “I apologize for my tardiness,” Caleb squeezes my thigh under the table, a slight reprimand, and I want to roll my eyes, but refrain, “but I had to attend to something.”

“Not at all. We got here not long before you,” Mr. Tolley says and casts his eyes between Caleb and me. I appreciate his attempt at keeping me a part of the conversation.

Laying the cloth napkin in my lap, I address the two men. “I’ve heard a lot about the both of you and your contributions to our armed forces. Mr. Tolley, Caleb has told me how you support the local VA hospitals, not just financially but also on a volunteer level. If I may be honest, that’s not something you often see with the wealthy.”

“Well, I have two generations––if not more––of military blood running through my veins. I would have joined up myself if not for the issue with my knee.” At my questioning look, he goes to explain. “I have a rare condition where the patella of my left knee is fused with the tibial plateau, so I’m unable to bend my knee properly.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. However, not all soldiers come in military fatigues,” I assert and give him a wink, to which he responds with a chuckle and a finger wag.

When I look back to the Captain, his eyes narrow. “And I’m sure you’re told this a lot, Captain Sanger, but thank you for your service.” At my sincere words, his eyes soften, and a disciplined smile graces his lips. My shoulders ease at his apparent acceptance.

“You’re welcome.” He turns his eyes back to Caleb. “I mean no disrespect, Mr. Marron, but why is one of your known competitors at this meeting?”

So much for acceptance.

Caleb looks at me with a knowing smirk on his face, and a silent conversation is exchanged. “Captain Sanger.” I place my hands on the table and lean toward the man across from me. “Mr. Marron and I have a business relationship, and he has been kind enough to let me attend certain meetings. I am simply here to learn. Stone Technologies is growing, and though we do not deal in military contracts, I would be an idiot not to learn from someone as seasoned as Mr. Marron.”

The Captain studies me for a moment before speaking to Caleb. “And you’re not afraid she will take what we say and use it for her own gains?” he asks.

“No,” Caleb answers without hesitation. “Just like I wouldn’t speak about the plans she has for S.T. in the aeronautical field.” I stiffen at the knowledge that Caleb is aware of S.T.’s possible involvement with NASA.

Squeezing Caleb’s hand under the table, I silently warn him that we will be discussing this new information later, and when he squeezes back, I know he’s heard me loud and clear.

“She could take from me, yes. And in return, I could easily take from her. But I have the utmost respect for Miss Stone and would never interfere with her work, as I’m sure she would show me the same respect.” Caleb looks at me, and I acknowledge his statement with a simple nod.

Removing his hand from my grip, Caleb places both hands on the table, interlacing his fingers. “Now, Captain Sanger, should we continue with our meeting? Or do you no longer feel comfortable working with M.H.T.?”

The Captain looks between Caleb and me before nodding. “I’ve worked with you since you launched the Cell-1, and you’ve never let me down. You trust her, and I trust you.” That’s as good as I’m going to get, and I’ll take it.

With a nod of acceptance, Caleb jumps into the newest technology he will be launching next quarter, and I sit in awe of the man who has conquered the technology world. I want to be bitter toward this man. I want to hate him––I do hate him––but as more time goes by, the less those feelings dominate me.

Now the only feeling that dominates me is my need for this man.

Well. Fuck.

We have finished dinner, and the deal between Caleb and the two men is sealed with a handshake––until pen can meet paper. We say our goodbyes, and Caleb escorts me to his car with a possessive hand to my back. When we pull out of the valet line, I begin to put together all the questions I want to ask Caleb, but he beats me to the punch. “Talia, I own the majority shares, which gives me the right to know about all past and future projects of both Tanish and Stone Technologies. Granted, I don’t know the specifics, but I was informed that a possible collaboration with NASA was in the works.”

“And who exactly gave you this information?” I ask indignantly, my eyes never straying from the view outside the windshield.

I hear Caleb sigh next to me, and I know I’m not going to like the answer. “I’m copied on all company emails, Talia.” At his statement, my eyes swing to his profile, and when he stops at a red light, his jade eyes land on my rage-filled ones.

“So much for respecting and not interfering.” I turn my eyes back to the road and cross my arms over my chest. I can’t believe I actually thought he would respect my position in the company. Yes, technically, he has every right to be informed, but does it mean he has to actually read the damn emails? I know I’m being childish, but damn it, Stone Technologies is mine.

My whole life, I’ve had someone looking over my shoulder, watching and waiting for me to screw up. S.T. is going to be my big “fuck you” to the people who crushed my spirit then kicked me with a steel-toed boot while I was down. But like always, I have a monkey on my back––granted a very hot, sex God of a monkey, but a monkey nonetheless.

I sit silently in my seat, happy to stew in my indignation, but Caleb has other plans. The Hellcat suddenly jerks to the right, and I’m shoved against the passenger door with the momentum. The next thing I know, we come to a screeching halt. I take in our surroundings with a hand to my chest––my heart beats a mile a minute. We’re in a dank alleyway.

“Look at me, Talia,” Caleb demands, a rumble of warning in his tone. Daring me to disobey. And though I want to out of spite, I think better of it and turn my eyes to him. His face holds the look of a man barely controlled. Gone is the gentle Dom who took me to ecstasy just last week, and gone is the businessman of mere minutes ago. Instead, in their place is the man from the nightclub who told me I was weak.

The same man from the gala that called me a whore.

I hold his gaze, refusing to back down. Even though the demons of my past try their best to creep forward, I grit my teeth and remind myself of who the man is in front of me––or more of who he is not.

“Caleb––”

“No. You don’t get to speak. You don’t get to sit there and insinuate that I have shown you anything but respect since you signed that contract. Yes, I was an ass to you in the past. Yes, I get the damn emails telling me of S.T.’s dealings, but I’m the fucking controlling shareholder, Talia!” He doesn’t shout, but he doesn’t need to. His tone says it all, and it has my body curling in on itself and my eyes dropping to the floor.

Out of my peripheral, I see Caleb scrub a hand over his stubbled chin before letting out a deep sigh and turning his body toward me. “Please look at me, angel.” I squeeze my eyes shut at his nickname for me, but when I feel his fingers on my cheek, I obey. My eyes open, and I turn to him. “Have I interfered? Have I disrespected you since we started this arrangement?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“I hold interest in S.T. It doesn’t matter how much, Talia. If it fails, my shares tank just like everyone else’s. I have a right to know what’s going on in the company.” He drops his hand from my cheek, and now it’s me who lets out a heavy sigh.

“I know. I just...” I trail off.

“You just what?”

I cast my eyes to my fidgeting fingers, and this time Caleb doesn’t request me to look at him. Instead, he allows me the time to gather my thoughts. “Caleb, I’ve had every significant person in my life––aside from Michael––hovering over me. Just waiting for me to screw up. Waiting to dig their claws into me and rip me to shreds.” I know I sound dramatic, but it’s true. He has no idea what I’ve been through. The hell that I lived through.

“And you think that’s what I will do.” It’s not a question, nor is his tone accusatory. I nod, my eyes still on my fingers, when suddenly I’m seized and plopped on Caleb’s lap. My head drops instinctually to his muscled shoulder, and my arms snake around his narrow waist as his hands glide up and down my back. “My angel. What am I going to do with you?” he asks, and I shrug in his arms.

“Maybe I’m too broken,” I mumble.

“I think you were once. And I think you had to put yourself back together all by yourself. But Talia, baby. No matter how we put ourselves back together, there will always be cracks,” he soothes, and his words have me sniffing back tears.

“Do you have cracks?” I ask, tracing circles over his pec.

He grabs my roaming hand and brings it to his lips before answering. “Cracks, chips, gaps. Anything you can think of.”

I lift my head to look into his eyes. “How do you not fall apart then? What’s your glue?”

He ponders my question for a moment, giving it deep consideration. “I don’t think there’s one particular thing. I use my family, my work, my tastes.” He smiles and squeezes my ass on the last word before turning serious again, “and now you.” The last part is an admission, and I can’t help the sunbeams that burst from my heart and warm my insides. “So tell me, angel. Who or what is your glue?”

“Well. My work, my BFFs Michael and Felicia––”

“The drunk chick dry humping you at the club that one night?”

“Yeah. That was her.” I laugh, and Caleb traces my smiling lips with roughened fingers.

“Who else?” he whispers.

With a finger to my chin, I look up in mock contemplation. “Hmm. I can’t really think of anyone else.” I tilt my head and look at him with innocent eyes. Then I see it. The moment I know I’m in trouble. “Oh, shit.” I go to leap out of his lap, but he grabs me by the waist and pulls me back to his broad chest.

“Oh, no, you don’t! No one else, huh?” He begins to tickle my ribs, and a squeal escapes my mouth the same time my hip hits the horn and blares through the alley.

“Ahh, Caleb! Stop!” I squeak through fits of laughter.

“No one, angel? You sure about that?” he asks as he continues his assault on my ribs.

“No! No one!” I shout, and it only has him doubling his efforts to get me to say what he wants to hear. He brings his lips to my neck and begins taking little nips at my flesh, all the while his short beard tickles my skin. “Okay! Okay! I give. Mercy!” He immediately stops and sits back––a big grin on his face––as though we didn’t just nearly tip over the car with my attempt to escape his tickle assault.

“Who else, Talia?” he breathes.

Shaking my head, I grasp two fists full of his shaggy locks and look him in the eye. “You. You control freak.”

“Damn right, angel,” he mumbles, just a breath away from my lips, then proceeds to lift my dress, slide my panties aside, and has me ride his fingers until the windows fog, and I’m flying high with my release.

18

Caleb

Talia’s body arches beneath the peacock feather as I trace her curves with the coarse feather, her sweat-slick skin shining beneath the chandelier. I’ve been torturing her for two hours, denying her the release she so desperately wants. I started by playing her clit like a fiddle as we watched a threesome in the main hall. Then, I ate her out from beneath the table while she attempted to carry on a conversation with Cassie––at my order.

All the while denying her an orgasm. This is our fourth scene together, and she has surprised me at every turn. Not only in the bedroom, but in business as well.

After the dinner with Tolley and Sanger, Talia invited me to sit in on a board meeting and I accepted. Since then, I have sat in on every board meeting I can make. Each time, Talia blows me away with how she handles the group made up mostly of men. They seem to respect her, and as much as I want to hate Michael, he stands by every decision she makes.

As our time together has become more frequent, there are instances that she and I still butt heads. Like the time I insisted on going with her to meet with her engineers. She dug in her heels and told me under no circumstances was I allowed to go anywhere near S.T. labs. We both knew I could walk into that lab, and she couldn’t do a thing to stop me, but I had to admire her spirit and her determination.

Her employees adore her, and she is a strict but fair employer. She oozes authority but always has a smile for the people who work around her. She greets everyone that passes her and knows them all by name. She is considerate of others’ ideas and concerns, but she doesn’t let anyone sway her decision regarding what she knows needs to be done.

In fact, the only time she does seem to sway is in times like these. I blindfold her and tell her to remain silent, or I gag her, and she obeys beautifully––other than the moans that I allow. I know she wants to demand I give her an orgasm. I know she wants to scream, claw, and bite to get what she wants, but she waits patiently, letting me get my fill. And it’s fucking hot as hell.

The last three times were all about her pleasure, but tonight is going to be different from the others. Tonight is not only about her. The previous three times we’ve been together, I made sure to take her to heights beyond her comprehension. I’ve tried different implements of pain and pleasure, testing her limits. After she collapses under the pleasure, I take her in my arms and help her come down from subspace. I let her sleep for an hour before waking her and dropping her off at Saunders’ place.

But the one thing I haven’t done is take my own release. Again, tonight will be different. Tonight, I will take her hard and fast, and when we are done, we will rest. Then I will take her home. She can fight me all she wants, but I am done dropping her off at another man’s home. She is always so exhausted after our sessions, so I know there is no way she is driving home, and if by chance she is, then she is driving under the fog of fatigue.

My hand replaces the feather, and my fingers dip deep into the slick lips of her pussy. They’re swollen and still red from the sting of the flogger.

“Ca…uhh,” she moans, and it’s the first semblance of a word she’s uttered since I commanded her silence.

I can’t help the smile that crosses my face. “Go ahead, Talia. You have permission to speak now.”

She swallows hard before she speaks. “Caleb. I can’t do this anymore.” My heart stills in my chest. Did I push her too hard? Why didn’t she say stop? I begin to panic when she continues. “I need to come, Caleb. Please, just tell me what to do for you to let me come.”

I let out a sigh of relief and remove the blindfold from her eyes. She clenches them shut briefly before opening them, and when her aqua eyes latch on to my jade ones, it’s like a punch to the chest. My world slides off-kilter, and I fear that if I finally take her, it will be the end of me. It could take me to a place that could royally screw my well-planned and controlled world. But what is the alternative? Denying myself? That isn’t going to happen, no matter how complicated my world could become. I have to have her.

“Tonight will be a little different, angel. Tonight, we both get our release.” Her eyes widen at my declaration, and I see flames erupt in their depths. She chews on the side of her lip, but a swift smack to her thigh in reprimand has her releasing the plump berry. “Do you remember our conversation about protection?” She nods, her eyes still wide on mine.

After our first session, I told her I wanted to take her skin to skin. She was hesitant at first but consented when I informed her that I had never been bare with another woman and presented her with my clean test results. She confirmed she was protected, and I knew she wanted to know why I wanted to go bare when I had never dared to before, and I prayed she never asked. Because honestly, I didn’t know the answer. All I knew was that I wanted––no needed––to feel all of her.

“I’m not going to go slow, Talia. I’ve waited and made sure you were ready for me. You have exceeded all my expectations, and now I get to have the ultimate prize.” I stroke her cheek tenderly. “You.”

Her breathing accelerates, and her little pink tongue laves over her lips. I untie her wrist and ankles, then flip her to her stomach. My lips land on her shoulder as I begin to move down her body, peppering her skin with open mouth kisses. I drink her in with each swipe of my tongue. The salt of her sweat and her natural pheromones tickle my nose, and suddenly I feel drunk. Drunk on her taste, her smell, her very soul.

Standing, I begin to unbutton my shirt, my jacket and tie long discarded. My shirt hits the ground, and Talia’s eyes are like orbs of fire along my skin. Bringing my hands to my belt, I make quick work of unbuckling it, my pants and boxer briefs following. I kick everything aside, my eyes never leaving Talia’s as she looks at me over her shoulder. When her gaze sweeps down my torso and lands on my painfully hard cock, she licks her lips, and I nearly explode right there.

“Talia, angel, you do that again, and I may be forced to come down your throat.” I lean over her and tilt her head to mine. “And the first time I come inside you, it will be in your pussy, not your mouth. There’s plenty of time for that.” She lifts her head, and before she can make contact with my lips, I kiss the tip of her nose.

I smack her ass hard, and her responding yelp is music to my ears. I jerk her hips up and press down on her shoulders when she tries to lift to her hands. “Head down. I want to see nothing but your fine ass as I fuck you raw.” She obeys, and her hands attempt to grip the sheet, but the material is too taut for her to find purchase.

Running the tip of my cock across her swollen clit, I tease her. Because I want to hear her beg again. I want her so desperate for my dick that she screams in rage for it. And she doesn’t disappoint when a moment later, I hear the first growl escape from her lips. She’s getting pissed, and I want to shove inside of her, but I wait. “What’s wrong, Talia? Feel something you want?”

“You know what I want, Marron, so just do it already,” she grunts indignantly.

“That wasn’t a very nice way to ask,” I tease. “Would you like to try that again?”

“Fuck you. I’ve had enough of your teasing. Just fuck me already.” She thrusts her ass into my groin, and I swat her ass for the offense.

“You want my cock? Then, you’re going to have to beg.”

“Are you insane? I’m not begging for something I know you want just as bad as I do,” she argues.

“You just begged me for your release. Why not beg for my cock to be the one to deliver it?” I ask and enter her just a bit. Not enough to bring satisfaction, but enough to torture.

“Ahhh. Bec… Because.” She can’t seem to form a coherent argument, and when I swivel my hips, planting myself a little deeper inside her tight opening, she howls into the mattress. “Fine! I’m begging! Fuck me, Caleb! Please!”

Her sweet voice begging for my cock has my balls drawing up, wanting to spill its release too soon. Gripping her hips, I tenderly kiss her shoulder blade. “My pleasure, angel.” I slam into her in one hard thrust, and my vision blurs at the pleasure erupting in my veins. My heart races, and I have to bite down hard to keep myself from coming.

When I don’t move, Talia’s whimper prompts me to look down at her. Her eyes are clenched shut, and I remember she hasn’t been with anyone in years, and like the asshole I am, I just slammed into her without a care for her well-being. “Fuck, Talia. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Her eyes pop open at my question, and her smile has me sighing in relief. She wiggles her hips, and I hiss at the movement. “Seems like I’m not the one who can’t handle it.” She wiggles again, and this time I catch her hips in my grip.

“You better hold on tight, angel.” I rear back and thrust hard. Her cry echoes through the room, and this time I don’t stop. I thrust hard and deep, hitting her cervix, and each moan, each cry she releases, enrages the animal inside me. I’ve never felt a need like this, a need to claim someone, a need to fight her demons for her, a need to have her by my side and not under my thumb.

“Caleb, don’t hold back!” She grabs my wrist where I hold her hip. I look down, and her eyes meet mine. “I can feel you holding back. Don’t. I want it all.”

With a beastly growl, my hand grasps her throat, and I swing her up. With her back planted firmly against my chest, her breasts arch forward, and my fingers immediately begin to tweak her peaked nipples. “You want all of me, angel? You want me to give you something I have never given anyone else?” I begin to thrust with slow long strokes, and when she doesn’t answer, I tighten my hold on her throat. “Answer me, Talia. Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” she breathes. So, I do. I let loose. I tighten my hold on her throat to the point she has to sip for air, and my hips jerk as I take her brutally. Her mouth gapes with silent screams, and I bite down on her shoulder but make sure not to leave a mark. Our bodies drip sweat, and my hand moves to her clit when she stops its descent. When I feel her try to turn her head, I loosen my grip on her throat.

Her head turns, and her lips whisper over mine. “Kiss me, Caleb.” My hips still at her command, and my eyes roam her face. Three words. Three words that, for a man like me, are just as impactful as the words “I love you.” Her hand strokes my cheek, and her eyes lock on mine. “Please, Caleb. Kiss me,” she pleads sweetly, and I can’t not answer.

I pull out of her, then flip her to her back. She looks up at me in disappointment, and I see tears well in her eyes. She turns her head to hide from me, but I won’t let her. I turn her back to me, and now I can see she’s pissed, but not at me. No. She’s angry at herself.

“You’re asking for a lot, Talia.” I keep my eyes on hers.

“I know. I’m sorry. Can we just forget I said it?”

“No, we can’t. I don’t kiss. It’s too intimate, too misleading. I don’t want any woman thinking they can have me for more than just the sex.” I thumb her plump bottom lip, and my eyes laser focus on the red treat.

“I understand. I’m sorry I brought it up. You’re right; it’s too much.”

I bring my eyes back to hers, and she smiles back at me, but I know it’s just a façade. She’s afraid. Afraid I’ll stop everything––and I should. I should get up, put on my clothes, and tell her the deal is off. But I can’t. From the moment I saw her in my club two years ago, I have wanted those lips. She has no idea how close I was to breaking my rule that night.

Leaning closer, I move so my mouth is a hair’s breadth away from hers, and she seems to hold her breath. “Talia,” I begin but can’t explain what is happening to me.

I see the moment she knows I’ve made my decision because she brings her hand to my cheek, and a tear escapes the corner of her eye. “Caleb,” she whispers, and my name on her lips is like a benediction, and it’s that final blessing that has my lips coming down on hers.

Our lips collide, and as though Zeus himself sent down a lightning bolt, a jolt of electricity shoots through my chest. I gasp into her mouth as the feeling of ours souls locking together consumes me. I’m dizzy, needing air, but I refuse to disengage her lips. Our tongues dance over each other’s, and our moans mingle as I plunder her mouth. Her taste is the finest ambrosia, and I can’t stop myself from devouring her.

Another tear slips from her eye, and my heart squeezes. “Please, Caleb. I need you,” she mumbles around my mouth, and with a tip of my hips, my cock slips back inside her warm center. She sighs against my lips, and I moan against hers. And this time, instead of rutting into her like a beast, I thrust slowly, languidly, but no less intensely.

Our mouths move together, and Talia moans as she arches into me, wanting more contact. Needing more. And dropping to my forearms, I give my angel what she needs. What we both need. Grasping her thigh, I lift it against my hip, and the angle has her gasping. “Caleb. Oh, God, that… I––”

“Shhh, angel. I’ve got you.” I trail my lips to her neck and nip at her tender flesh. Her nails pierce the skin of my back as her pussy walls begin to tighten around my cock. “Let go, Talia. Let go and know I’ve got you.” I bring my lips to hers again, and it’s enough. Her lips harden on mine, and her eyes clench shut as her climax takes over her body. And I don’t know why, but I feel lost without those eyes on me. “Open your eyes, Talia,” I huff as my own orgasm approaches, and when her blue-green eyes land on me, I’m undone. My balls tighten, and with a long groan, I fill her with my seed. My entire body lights up like it’s hooked up to a power station, and Talia is the one flipping the switch.

When I come down, my lips immediately search for hers. Her hands run through my sweat-soaked hair, and I silently purr at the feeling.

She giggles then speaks around my lips. “Did you just purr, Caleb Marron?” Okay, maybe not so silently.

I continue to kiss her, ignoring her question, and I’m not sure I will be able to stop. She sighs into my mouth, and I force myself to release her lips. “That was incredible,” she beams.

“It was,” I agree, and with one final deep press of my lips, I disengage her tight canal and walk to the attached bathroom. Soaking a rag in warm water, I bring it back to the bed and gently clean her thighs and pussy. She blushes at my attention, and I can’t help but smirk at her shyness.

Talia Stone is a conundrum. She is a fierce businesswoman who goes after what she wants and leads a team dominated by men one minute, then blushes like a schoolgirl the next. Tossing the rag into the hamper, I extend my hand and help her stand.

After we’ve dressed, I lead her out of the playroom, and we make our way to the main room when a voice stops us both.

“Talia?” At the familiar voice, we both turn, and I want to pick Talia up and run straight for the exit.

“Emer? Oh my God, Emer.” Talia releases my hand and embraces my former sub in a familiar hug, and my mind scrambles to figure out how these two women know each other. “How are you? What have you been up to?” I clear my throat, and both women’s eyes swing to me, and Emer being the natural submissive, casts her eyes down. “Oh, sorry. Caleb, this is an old college friend of mine and Michael’s,” Talia says excitedly, and I don’t miss Emer’s wince at Saunders’ name.

I step beside Talia and put an arm around her waist in a silent command to Emer to keep her mouth shut, and she nods slightly in acknowledgment. Talia’s eyes bounce between Emer and me, and I wait for the impending catfight, but she just smiles at Emer and embraces her again. “I have to get going, but here.” She pulls out her phone and hands it to Emer. “Put in your phone number.” Emer looks at me, and I nod my approval. After all, either way, I’m screwed. If Emer refuses, I’ll have to explain why, and eventually, Talia will figure it out––if she hasn’t already.

Emer types in her number then hands Talia her phone. “I’ll call you. We can grab lunch and catch up.” Before the last word is out of Talia’s mouth, I’m dragging her to the door. She waves back to Emer, then turns back to me with a look of disapproval. “That wasn’t very nice. Especially after sleeping with the woman.”

I halt in my tracks and turn to her fully, and when I expect to see fury in her blue depths, I see mischief instead. With her lips caught between her teeth, she tries to restrain a smile but loses the battle when I step into her personal space, and she releases her lips to give me a full and glorious smile. “You think that was funny, angel? I nearly pissed myself,” I scold with no real bite, and when Talia burst into a fit of laughter, I can’t help my own that follows. She is the very sunshine in my world when she smiles.

“Oh, come on, Marron. I knew you were a man-whore when I signed that contract. Yes, it’s a little weird that you’ve been with Emer, but I can’t fault you for that.” Then I see the realization dawn on her. “Emer’s a submissive?” she whispers like a child telling secrets in class, and there’s no judgment in her question, just curiosity.

“Yes. She was my submissive off and on for a few years, but she wanted a side of the scene I couldn’t give her. Let’s leave it at that.” I pull her closer and run my nose against hers. “You’re sure this isn’t going to be a problem? I don’t want this to end too soon.”

She places a gentle hand on my chest. “I promise it’s not a problem for me at all. Emer was always a kind soul, and I hate that she and Mi…” She seems to catch herself. “Nevermind. You and I are fine.” She pecks my nose then takes my hand to lead me the rest of the way out of the club.

When we reach my car, I open her door and pat her pert ass before she gets in. She settles into the Tesla’s warmed seats, and her head lulls to the side when I’m seated behind the wheel. Her eyes focus on mine, and they are a clear aquamarine, and her smile warms the coldest part of me. It almost has me abandoning my next move––almost.

“What’s your address?” I say as I pull up the navigation system, and when she doesn’t speak, I turn my eyes to her.

“Caleb, I told you that was a no-go for me. Besides, my truck is at Michael’s. It would be a hassle to have to coordinate picking it up when you can just drop me off at his place.” I can see she’s doing her best to be diplomatic, but it’s all in vain because I’m not moving this car until she gives me her address. When I just sit there staring at her stoically, she shifts in her seat uncomfortably. “Why are you pushing me on this?”

At her question, I run a hand over my beard and stare out the windshield. “Because you’re exhausted, and I’m done worrying about if you’re going to fall asleep at the wheel.” It’s only half the truth, but I know the whole truth will only have her pushing back harder. “Just for once, don’t be so fucking hard-headed and give me your damn address.”

“Excuse me?” she seethes, and her tone has me swinging my eyes back to her. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that! Hard-headed? You’re going to call me hard-headed after everything I’ve done? After everything I have let you do to me in there?” She jerks her chin in the direction of the club.

I spear my fingers through my hair and pin her with a look that says you-have-to-be-kidding-me. “Don’t pretend like you don’t enjoy our scenes, Talia. You could say stop at any time. And you come every fucking time.”

Her mouth gapes and her eyes turn steely. “You’re right. I do enjoy it. I could say stop, but I don’t want to. That’s my point. I could have said stop and just allowed you to do the bare minimum, but I didn’t. I threw myself entirely into it because I trust you––”

“If you trusted me, why won’t you let me take you home? Why won’t you let me make sure you’re okay?” I fume, and when I see her flinch at my raised voice, I gather a calming breath.

“Why do you care?” she whispers more to herself than to me.

“I don’t fucking know!” I shout before swinging the car door open and getting out. Pacing in front of my car, I ask myself the same question repeatedly–why do I give a damn? And repeatedly, the same answer comes back to me. This woman enrages me as much as she thrills me. She doesn’t see me as a freak because of my intelligence or lack of social skills. She doesn’t see me as a paycheck or a meal ticket. Yes, she signed the contract to get something from me, but I know it wasn’t for financial gain. She said it herself at our meeting. She is worried about me putting people out of work.

Still a part of me wants to find the bad in her. The Tanish in her. After all, she was Tanish’s daughter, and her mother wanted to take Lucy for all the inheritance. How could she have those two people’s DNA and not be just like them in some way? Why does she want that company to succeed so damn bad if not for her father?

I turn and stare at her through the windshield. Her head is turned, and she’s looking out the passenger window, arms crossed over her chest.

“Fuck it.” I walk back to the driver’s side and sit behind the wheel. Slamming the door shut, I put the car in gear and race out of the parking lot, ready to end this maddening feeling inside me and at the same time craving to keep her with me for as long as possible.

I head in the direction of Saunders’ apartment when suddenly the G.P.S lights up. “You are on the fastest route. You will reach your destination in thirty-two minutes,” it says robotically.

I look over to Talia, and she continues to stare out the window. “You win, Caleb. You get to see why I don’t want you taking me home.”

I want to tell her that I will take her to Michael’s and that it’s okay if I never see her home, but I can’t. I won’t. I want to know everything about her. I want every ounce of her. The good and the bad. If that makes me an asshole, then so be it.

We drive for twenty minutes, and the longer we drive, and the more I take in our surroundings, the more my stomach sours. Posh homes and glitzy buildings have given way to decaying neighborhoods and abandoned houses. Graffiti seems to decorate every strip of concrete, and two guys fist fighting on the sidewalk have the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I only hope the last ten minutes will lead us to a better part of town.

But when Talia speaks, all my hopes die. “Feeling better about your decision to take me home? Or is this what you were hoping for?” Her eyes haven’t left the passenger window, and I let her hide because I don’t think I could say anything nice right now if I tried.

“In .5 miles, your destination will be on your right.” I look to my right, and my heart drops to my toes. The apartment building is small and right off the main road. Though it’s hard to clearly see much of the building with all the streetlights busted out, I can see it’s unkempt, and trash litters the premises. My hands tighten on the steering wheel as I pull in front of her apartment number.

“Well, come on, no sense stopping now,” she mutters before getting out, and I’m out and by her side a split second later. She fumbles in her purse as we walk, and I keep my eyes glued to our surroundings. The entry bulbs are burned out, and any fucking mad man could step from the shadows and take her. Hurt her. My blood begins to race at the probable dangers lurking in the shadows. My protective nature has kicked in, and the idea of snatching her up and flinging her over my shoulder like a caveman is a real possibility.

After a couple of failed attempts at unlocking the jammed deadbolt, Talia gets the door open and enters, gesturing for me to follow. Taking in a calming breath, I walk in and take in her apartment. Her very small apartment. It can’t be more than five-hundred square feet, and that includes the bathroom. But whereas the outside looks like the makings of a horror film, her living space is clean and bright.

The smell of lavender drifts through the room, and the bed that doubles as a couch has large throw pillows in colorful patterns to match the duvet. Photos of family and friends line the walls in matching frames, and the kitchen is tidy with a small bartop-like table where a small vase of flowers and one placemat sits. The carpet is old and dingy, but a large area rug with an image of a peacock covers most of the offending carpet. Her apartment may be small, but Talia has made it into a home.

“Go ahead. Make fun of me. Poor little Talia, living in a crappy neighborhood in a crappy apartment.” I swing around and find her practically caving in on herself. Her arms are wrapped tight around her waist, and her back is hunched in defeat. I’ve never seen her this way. Even the night I told her I had the controlling shares of S.T., she hadn’t looked this lost.

In two steps, I’m in front of her. I engulf her in my arms, and her shocked gasp has me tightening my hold. When I feel her body relax and melt into mine, I loosen my grip and pull back to get her in my line of sight. “Talia, I would never make fun of you. Especially for this.” I gesture to the room. “You’re right. You live in a shit neighborhood and in a shit apartment building.” She drops her head, and I lift it with a finger under her chin. “But you have made this apartment a home. It’s like walking into a different world. You have done a great job.” Her shy smile has my chest warming, but a question tickles at the back of my throat, a question I can’t ask while she’s in my arms.

Turning, I pace to the small kitchen, giving her my back. “Caleb? What is it?”

With hands on my hips, I answer her question with a question. “Why do you live here, Talia?” I turn to face her, and her eyes flick to the side before coming back to mine.

“What do you mean?” She’s playing dumb, and it pisses me off.

“You know exactly what I mean. Tanish paid for your mother’s silence when you were born,” she winces at my statement, “and I can understand if that money is long gone, but then you inherited millions from him, Talia. Where did the money go?”

Her eyes bore into mine as the fire rages in the blue depths. “Where do you think it went?” she grits through clenched teeth.

And like the dick that I am, I go for the jugular. “I don’t know, Talia. You tell me. Did it go to gambling debts, drugs, booze? Or are you and Michael starting your own little slave operation? You know, picking up where daddy left off?” I know I’ve fucked up as soon as the last word leaves my mouth.

And Talia proves me right when she picks up the glass vase of flowers and chucks them at my head. I move just in time, and the vase shatters against the wall, leaving a sizable dent in the drywall. “How dare you!” she screams, and the rage in her eyes spills onto her cheeks in long rivers of tears. “I hate that son-of-a-bitch, and I’ve never even met him! When I found out who my father was, I was devastated. Then my mother wanted me to go after Lucy’s money, and I fought her all the way up until she told me she had cancer and needed the money for her treatment, and even after hundreds of thousands of dollars’ worth of treatment, she still fucking died!” Her breathing becomes labored, but when I go to calm her, she pushes me away. “Get the hell away from me. You want to know everything, Marron? Fine. Sit and enjoy the ride.” When I don’t sit, the red flush on her cheeks, brought on by her anger, begins to creep down her neck. “Sit down,” she orders, almost demonically.

I’ve never let anyone order me to heal, but I obey Talia. I sit, but I don’t need her to continue. I need to apologize. “Talia, you don’t need to––”

“Oh, no, you don’t. You opened this Pandora’s box. Now you get the consequences.” Her eyes smolder with barely contained rage. “When Tanish died, my mother came to me and broke the news that that piece of filth was my father. When I asked why she decided to finally tell me, she told me about the cancer. Then she proceeded to tell me her plan to go after my inheritance.” She turns and walks to the small window by the front door. “I told her I would take another job, and I begged her to leave Lucy alone. I didn’t want his dirty money, and we had insurance, so I figured I could just pay the medical bills monthly. Little did I know our insurance didn’t cover the treatment, and it was going to run a cool three-hundred thousand.”

“Fuck,” I murmur under my breath.

“Exactly. So what was I supposed to do? Let my mother die?”

“No, of course not––”

“So, I told my mother I wouldn’t take more than what was needed, and when it was done, the money would be put into a charity for trafficking survivors.”

My lungs freeze at her last statement, and it’s as though a literal bomb has been dropped on me. She gave the remaining money to charity? And not just any charity, but one that helped the types of people her father was party to hurting. I hang my head in shame, and for the first time since my mother was taken from me, I feel tears sting the back of my eyes. Then a single thought comes into my mind, and my head shoots up. “What charity, Talia?”

She turns her head slightly, giving me her profile, and I see the single tear run down her cheek. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, Talia. It fucking matters,” I bark, but I don’t apologize for my tone.

She’s quiet for a long moment before finally answering. “Furious Hope.”

I knew her answer, but the impact of her words still knocks the breath from my lungs. She gave her inheritance to my mother’s and aunt’s charity. She could have used that money to create a better life for herself. Instead, she gave it to victims of a sick industry and lived in poverty without complaint.

“You donated your inheritance to my mother’s charity?”

She gives me a sad smile. “Not all of it, and at the time, I wasn’t aware it was your mother and aunt’s charity. As soon as the money was in my account, I immediately donated ten million of it then focused on my mother’s treatment. During that time, she pushed me to fight Lucy for the company, but that’s where I drew the line. Then one day, while I was waiting for my mother to finish that day’s treatment, I saw your mother doing an interview about Furious Hope, and I don’t know, something just clicked.” She turns to me as she continues, “I sat there and watched this amazing woman tell her story. She talked about how these men, women, and children were saved by the many people who donated and volunteered. It was then that I knew ten million wasn’t enough. I had a business degree, and I was going to use it. I decided to invest the rest of the inheritance in the company. I was going to take Tanish Technologies, strip it down, and use its eventual profits to fund both Furious Hope and Unyielding for as long as their walls stood.”

I can’t sit there anymore and not have her in my arms, but I know she can be volatile right now. So I make sure to soften my tone when I speak. “Angel, come here.” She wipes away another rogue tear but doesn’t follow my command. “Angel,” I say, a clear warning in my tone. I know between my pet name for her and the dominant resonance in my voice, she will obey. As strong as she is, her need to submit to me comes naturally, and her body will always win.

She walks to me, and I pull her between my spread knees. Looking into her blue-green eyes, the last bit of ice in my heart melts, and what’s left is a tattered heap of muscle. Her words have shredded me, and she’s the only one that can put the pieces back together. I lay my forehead on her stomach and inhale her scent. It instantly soothes me. My head rises and falls with each breath she takes, and it’s like a lullaby to my overworked mind.

When I feel her run hesitant fingers through my hair, I lift my head and find her eyes still guarded but searching. She doesn’t know what to make of the creature in front of her. “Talia, I’m sorry. I––” She places delicate fingers over my lips and shakes her head, and I know my words from earlier are forgiven.

Keeping my eyes on hers, I lift her blouse and place a kiss over her bellybutton where I know she’s most ticklish. She giggles and tries to back away, but I lock her thighs in my hands. With a grin, I trail kisses along her stomach to her hip while my fingers pull down the zipper of her skirt. It drops around her ankles, baring her pussy to me. Her panties still lay on the playroom floor ripped in half. Her intoxicating musk is dizzying as all the blood rushes to my dick.

Leaning into her flawlessly trimmed pussy, I take a long leisurely lick. Her head falls back with a sigh, and her hands tangle in my hair. With one last lick to her clit, I lift my head and begin to unbutton her blouse. Her plain white cotton bra soon follows her discarded blouse. Her tits are full and ripe, her nipples puckered and needy, and my mouth waters as it latches onto the tender peak. With each sound that leaves her lips, my cock strains more and more against my zipper.

As if reading my mind, Talia pulls at me to stand, and I obey. As soon as she has me up, she begins on my shirt, then my pants––until I’m as bare as she is. Her hands roam my muscled chest to my abs until she reaches my cock. A breath hisses from between my teeth when her hand grips me hard, and she licks her lips.

“I want to taste you.” Her words are resolute and leave no room for argument. Bringing her lips to my collarbone, she trails a line of kisses down my torso, her lips like fire on my skin. She kneels in front of me, and her eyes lock on mine before she lifts my cock and licks the entire length, hitting the deep dorsal vein. My hands itch to fist her hair, but I keep them by my side, letting her take what she needs. She kisses the tip, then pulls away slightly, that shy blush crossing her cheeks. “Help me? I’m not sure I’ll be any good at this.” Her words throw me. She’s utterly delusional if she thinks having her mouth on me won’t rock my damn world.

But the uncertainty in her eyes tells me she really does believe it, so I nod and fist her hair at the roots. “Open wide.” She does as I command, and I tilt her head back. “I’m going to go deep and rough. If it becomes too much, tap my thigh, okay?” She nods, and I slip my cock into her warm wet mouth. My eyes shut, and my head falls back on my shoulders with a groan. I give her a few shallow thrusts before I pick up the pace and tilt her head back a bit more so I can go deeper. When she gags, I don’t stop. When her eyes water at the deep penetration, I don’t stop. When her nails claw at my things, I don’t stop. My thrusts are deep and rough, just as I promised, and the moans she releases every time I pull from her throat have my balls tightening and my release beckoning before I want it to. With a loud pop, I remove myself from her mouth.

She looks at me with devastation in her eyes. “Was I not any good? I thought if you helped—”

I don’t let her finish. I pull her up from her knees and slam my lips to hers. “You were fucking fantastic, angel, but like I said earlier, I don’t want to come in your mouth tonight.” Then my lips are back on hers. I lie back on her bed and pull her on top of me. Her silky thighs straddle my waist, and this is a first for me. I’ve never had a woman ride me. I always demanded to be in a position of power, but I want to see Talia take her pleasure from my body. “Ride me, angel,” I say against her lips.

She sits up, and her expression shows her uncertainty. This woman is a sex goddess, and she doesn’t even know it. “Caleb. I don’t know how to… the man before you was my first, and well,” she dips her eyes in shame, “he didn’t have very good things to say about my skills.” Her words make my blood boil, and murder crosses my mind. But while I want to rage against the bastard that made her doubt herself, my focus needs to be on her right now.

I cup her chin and bring her lips to mine for a long, decadent kiss. My tongue strokes hers, and my teeth nip her bottom lip before I pull away and look into her eyes. I could get lost in those eyes and be a happy man forever. “He was an idiot, angel. I’ve been with a lot of women—” She winces and turns her head away from me, but I bring her eyes back to mine. “I’m not saying that to hurt you. I tell you that because of all the women I’ve been with, you are the one that has me daydreaming all hours of the day. You’re the only one that has me wanting to bring untold pleasures while wanting to know more of what goes on in here,” I press a finger to her temple, “and in here.” I press my hand to her chest, over her heart. “If you’re uncertain, I’ll guide you, but don’t for one second think you’re anything but sexy as hell, and a hellcat in the sack.” I give her a confident smile, and she returns it with her own.

“Okay, but I still want you to guide me. At least until I get a rhythm.”

“Whatever you want, angel.” She sits up, and without any prompting from me, lifts herself and grasps my still rock-hard cock. Placing me at her entrance, she starts to sink onto me, but I grip her hips to stop her momentum. “Go slow until you get used to the position. I’m big, and you’re tight. This position is going to have me going deep.”

Her lips tip up, and she rolls her eyes. “Even in the middle of sex, you’re full of yourself.”

I sit up suddenly, and she lets out a squeal. “Is that so? Because you’re the one that’s about to be full of me, angel.” I lean in and drag her bottom lip between my teeth. “Now, ride me.” I lie back down and nod in encouragement.

She begins to slide down my cock, and my grip on her hips is sure to leave marks, but I can’t seem to care, and by the look of utter ecstasy on her face, neither can she. Once she’s three-quarters of the way down, she pauses then winces. “I don’t think I can go any farther.”

“That’s okay, angel. Put your hands on my chest and tilt your hips toward my ankles.” She does as she’s told, and I can see it already helps her discomfort. “It will take time for your body to get acclimated to my size. The good thing is we have time.” I begin to move her up and down slowly on my cock, and she gasps at the first stroke of my cock hitting her G-spot.

“I don’t… I don’t think I’ll ever,” she tilts her head back on her shoulders and mumbles incoherent words to the ceiling, “get used to your size.” Her hips begin to sway on their own, and I loosen my grip and let her take over. She closes her eyes, and when I would typically demand they stay on me, I let her keep them shut. She’s lost in her pleasure, and I won’t interrupt that for the world.

When she swivels her hips, I nearly jackknife up from the lighting that shoots through my body at the movement. What the fuck was that? “Do that again. Fuck, do it again, angel,” I huff, and she doesn’t ask what I mean. She swivels her hips again, and I throw my head back. The muscles in my neck feeling like they will snap at any moment. “Holy shit. Yes. Keep going, angel. Make your man come!”

Her breathing becomes harsh, and her moans turn to cries of euphoria as she takes more of my dick. The natural urge to dominate and control vanishes as I watch her take what’s hers. Because that’s precisely what I am. I’m hers, and as though proving that fact, she speaks, “Come Caleb. Come with me now.” She swivels one last time, and I explode.

“Talia!” I roar and grip the sheets on either side of me. I can’t hear for the blood rushing in my ears and can’t see for the stars clouding my vision. Fucking hell. As I come back down from the stars, my body drips sweat onto her pretty duvet, and my harsh breaths fill the air. I blink my eyes to clear my vision and feel Talia’s breath against my neck.

“That…I can’t even describe what that was.” She gulps.

I chuckle and run my fingers down her sweat-soaked skin. “That was us.”

She lifts her head, and her whole face lights up with her smile. “I really like us.”

I laugh and hug her to me, burying my face in her neck. Her arms wrap around my neck, and she squeezes me like she doesn’t want to let go.

And if I have my way, she will never have to.

19

Talia

The smell of vodka invades my nostrils, and his warm breath on my face has me shrinking away in fear. Roughened hands grasp the side of my head––his favorite way to hold me––and squeeze to the point that I feel the migraine rush forward with the pressure at my temples.

“You’re a fucking lying bitch, aren’t you? I wore a condom every damn time with you. So tell me, T, how did you end up pregnant? I’ll tell you how. You’ve been out fucking other guys bareback. Bringing that shit back here, haven’t you?”

“No, Wyatt. I haven’t been with anyone else. I swear. The condom must have broken, or—” His hands clench tighter around my head, and I cry out in pain.

“So it’s my fucking fault?” His fingers curl at my temples, his fingers tangling with bits of my hair. He jerks his hands, and I scream. He holds up the chunks of hair he’s ripped from my scalp. “Maybe I should pull every strand of pretty blonde hair from your head. That way men will see you for how ugly you really are. How ugly your lies make you. Even your tight little cunt wouldn’t get them hard.” He brings a clammy hand to my cheek and lightly caresses it. “Or maybe I’ll just scar this pretty face of yours.”

“Please, Wyatt. I’ll do anything. Just don’t hurt the baby.” I bring a shaky hand to his face. “Don’t hurt our baby,” I plead. No matter how much I want to be free from this man, no matter how I long to have his blood running cold on the ground, I still want the life growing inside me. I just have to make it a little longer, then I will leave. I will get away and raise my child in love, and he or she will never know fear like I feel every moment of every day.

His eyes soften for only a split second before they gloss over, and the demon I’ve come to know inhabits his body. With an evil glint in his eye, he removes his favorite ivory pocket knife. With a flick of a button, the small blade flips up, and my heart stalls in my chest. “Maybe I’ll just handle the problem right now.”

At that moment, something in me snaps. “NO!” My knee makes contact with his balls, and in his drunken state, he’s easy to roll off me. The moment he lands on the bed next to me, I sprint from our room, but I’m not fast enough. He grabs my ankle, and I fall hard, hitting my forehead on the wood floors.

I see stars, and my vision blurs, but I still fight his hold. I twist and try to kick him off me, but he’s too big, and with a quick twist of his hand, my ankle snaps. I bellow in pain, then he’s on top of me. Each loud slap echoes through the apartment. Each punch to the ribs sends howls and grunts of pain through my lips.

He leans into my ear, and my head lulls to the side, still trying to escape him. He places a meaty hand over my mouth. “You will pay for that. I was actually considering letting you keep the little rat, but now.” He bites down hard on the cartilage of my ear, and I feel the warm flow of blood running down my neck. My screams are muffled by his hand, and when the small pocket knife makes contact with the flesh just below my belly button, my breath is stolen from my lungs. At that moment, I know my child is gone.

“No, no, no. Not my baby. Please, not my baby––”

“Talia, wake up. Wake up, angel.” Caleb’s soothing voice breaks through the nightmare, and I jerk upright. My stomach turns, and I rush to the bathroom and empty my stomach. Tears stream down my face, and a cold sweat coats my skin. I hear the faucet run, then a glass is placed next to me, and a cold rag presses against my forehead. “Deep breaths, angel.” As though his words command my body, my lungs inflate on a deep inhale and release with a cleansing exhale. “That’s my girl. Keep breathing.”

I continue to breathe deeply as Caleb’s strong hands massage my shoulders, and when he feels my tension ease, he scoops me up from the cracked linoleum and carries me back to my bed. The warm blanket still smells like sex, but there’s that hint of him that lingers. My muscles instantly release, and I snuggle deeper into the soft duvet.

The bed dips next to me, and though I want to hide, I find myself peeking up at him. His eyes are a mossy green now and full of concern. I want to reassure him, so I grab his hand and kiss his palm. “I’m okay. I’m sorry if I scared you.” I smile around my words, but the furrow of his brow tells me that I’m not fooling him.

“Talia,” he scratches his bearded chin, “that wasn’t some random nightmare. Believe me, I know the difference.” I nod in confirmation and drop his hand to the bed. The growl that rolls from his robust chest tells me he doesn’t like the distance I just put between us, and before I can protest, I’m cradled in his lap, my head on his chest.

His heartbeat beneath my ear is like a lullaby, and when I’m about to drop off into sleep, his whispered question has me jolting in his arms. “Who’s Wyatt?” I shake my head and bury my face deeper into his bare chest. When I don’t speak, he just sighs into my hair, dropping the subject.

He rocks me in his arms, and a low humming sound comes from his chest. I don’t recognize the song, and he’s an awful singer, but his attempt at soothing me has my lips tipping up. “So, the Caleb Marron can take over the world, but he can’t sing, huh?” I giggle, and my head jerks with his responding chuckle.

“No, he can’t. I got my singing voice from my dad. My mom was the singer in the family––her and Lizzy.” He’s never really spoken about his family to me––other than to tell me to back off from Lucy––so this little kernel of information has me hungry for more.

“Tell me about them?”

“What do you want to know?”

“Anything you want to tell me. I never really had a family unit. Yes, I had my mom, but I always felt more like an inconvenience to her––until she saw an opportunity to get more money from Tanish.” Caleb’s deep growl has me casting my eyes up to his, only to find them clenched shut. I lift my hand and run my index finger over the furrowed skin of his forehead. His eyes snap to mine, and I give him a sad smile. “I don’t say that to upset you. I just wanted to hear what a real family was like.”

His eyes roam my face before he gives me a slight nod and speaks, “Honestly, for the first six years of my life––that I can remember––my parents fought like cats and dogs.”

Now my brow furrows, not in worry or anger, but in confusion. “Really? I’ve seen photos of your parents together, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people more in love. Then at the gala, they were all over each other, and the way your father looked at your mother…” My heart pinches at the memory of that look. It was a look of complete and utter devotion, love, and worship. “I’ll be honest: I had a bit of a crush on your dad at that moment. He looked at her like she was everything to him.” When I come back from the memory, I see Caleb’s eyes have narrowed, and my cheeks flush at my confession.

“So, you have a crush on my dad, do you?” Though his lips are set in a stern line, his eyes smile brightly.

I bring my index finger and thumb a mere millimeter apart before saying, “Just a little bit.”

He chuckles, then twists and plops me on the bed before spooning me from behind. His muscled arm wraps around my waist, and I feel him inhale deeply before his warm breath ghosts over my skin.

“Like I said, they fought a lot. But then, one day, it just stopped. Don’t get me wrong—they would still bicker here and there, but the blowups and the yelling matches just stopped. I didn’t understand it, but I didn’t care. From that day on, I saw my parents go through a transformation. Before, my mother was the decision-maker, the disciplinarian, the––well everything. Then suddenly, my father started leading our family, and he became more controlled. My mom was less stressed and more affectionate with him, and even at a young age, I knew I was witnessing them falling in love.”

I snuggle closer to his chest. “That sounds beautiful. What about your sister? What’s she like?”

He snorts into my hair, and I can’t help my snicker at his childish reaction. “She’s a pain in the ass,” he retorts. “But she’s also the toughest, most badass female I know. My mom can kick the biggest guy’s ass and shoot like a skilled assassin, but Lizzy,” I can hear the wonder in his tone, “she’s something else. She’s truly gifted when it comes to taking down the bad guy. She even broke a perp’s arm once.

“They were called to a domestic dispute, and when the guy went to charge his wife after she finally confessed he had been beating on her, Lizzy snapped the guy’s arm with a twist of her wrist.” When the husky cadence of Caleb’s laughter would typically have my face splitting into a contented smile, my body tenses in his hold at the mention of a woman being abused. “Talia? What just happened, angel?”

I want so badly to tell him. I want to release all my demons, but that isn’t the type of relationship we have. He isn’t my savior or my avenging angel. Hell, we aren’t even friends. I am his plaything until he tires of me, and then I will take my controlling share and move on with as little interaction with him as possible.

“Nothing. You wouldn’t understand. I don’t need your judgment.”

“Talia, you can tell me. Whatever it is, I’m not going to think any differently of you.”

And that is the problem. I want Caleb to see me differently. I want him to see me as more than just a toy. Michael is right. I care for people too easily. I want Caleb to see me as an equal. I want his respect.

“You don’t know that. What I went through. What I allowed to happen… you will see me as weak. Just like you said two years ago at your club.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh, and his warm breath on my shoulder raises goosebumps on my skin. “I was an ass that night, and every other night I said something stupid or cruel to you. Talia,” he turns me to my back, and his warm fingers glide against my jaw, “you don’t have to tell me but know that I will not judge you. I know our relationship is unorthodox––”

“You made it very clear how our dynamic would go, Caleb. I am your submissive in the bedroom, and there was nothing outside of that but business. I’m sorry I muddied the line when I asked about your family.” I go to get up, itchy with the need to run from him, to run from the ache in my chest. His corded arm tightens around me, and his lips press against the bend of my neck. I instantly melt into his touch.

“Maybe I want to amend some of my demands.”

With his statement, the ache in my chest gives way to sparks of hope. “What do you mean?” My question is breathy, and my stomach flutters when his lips travel over my shoulder to my cheek then to my temple.

“Maybe I want more.”

“But you said––”

“I know what I said, Talia,” he growls. “But listen to what I’m saying now: I. Want. More. More of your body.” He runs a calloused thumb over my peaked nipple, and I moan into my pillow. He trails the same thumb up my chest to my throat, then to my lips, where his thumb barely enters my mouth. “More of your words.” Gentle fingertips rub small circles into my temple. “More of your thoughts.” My eyes close with the soothing but somehow erotic touch. His hand travels back down to my chest, where he lays his heavy palm over my heart. “And maybe one day, your heart.”

My breath hitches, and a lone tear falls to my pillow. He has no idea he already has my heart. No matter how much I fight it. No matter how much I tell myself there is nothing more, my heart won’t believe it. I want to tell him how I feel, but I can’t. Not when he doesn’t know all of me. I have to decide. Do I tell him now and risk him filleting me with his disgust for my weakness? Or do I keep this part hidden, never truly giving myself to him?

The silence seems to stretch on for hours, and when he places a gentle kiss on the crown of my head, I make my decision. “I met Wyatt at a meet and greet my junior year of high school. He was a T.A. for one of my classes.” When I don’t continue, Caleb squeezes me to him in encouragement. “He was charming, good looking, and intelligent. He took me out that night to a little café, and we talked into the late hours of the night. It’s cliché, but he swept me off my feet. We quickly became a couple, and I gave him my virginity.”

With my last words, the room darkens, even as the sun rises behind the curtains, and my body goes numb. “Everything changed after that. It started with a cruel comment about my looks or about how stupid I was, then it progressed to him shoving me and gripping me so hard he left bruises. Then one night, when I tried to leave him, he backhanded me and split my lip.”

The sound that escapes Caleb’s lips is more animal than man, and I shrink away at the sound. “Don’t!” He gently pulls on my shoulder, so I’m now laying on my back. “You don’t need to fear me. I would never hurt you.” He runs his plump lips over my shoulder down my arm to my hand, where he entwines our fingers and lays his head on my stomach.

My fingers slide through his silky mop of hair, and the feel of the strands between my fingers gives me the strength to continue. “The beatings got worse, but after I had to miss a weeks’ worth of classes because of the split lip, he made sure to keep the bruises in areas that could be hidden.”

“What did your mother say?”

“I told her I was being bullied at school and that I would handle it. Like I said, I never felt like anything more than an inconvenience, so she dropped it pretty quickly.”

“Bitch,” he mumbles under his breath before asking, “How long?”

I didn’t need him to clarify to know what he was asking. “A little over two years.”

“How did you get away?”

“I would like to say I grew some balls and called the cops, but I would be lying.”

“Then, how?” he asks, tracing circles around my belly button.

“I did whatever he told me to do. I wore whatever he told me to wear. Ate what he told me to eat—anything to keep him from hitting me. I just needed to hold out a little longer, then I would leave. He hadn’t allowed me to get a job, so I tutored people online when I knew he would be away. I socked away the money, and I just needed a little bit more to escape and hide. The night I decided to run, he came home early and caught me bent over the toilet, puking my guts out. I tried to keep it from him as long as possible, but the moment he saw me throwing up, he knew. Sometimes I think he knew from the beginning but just needed the confirmation.”

Caleb’s hand stills over my stomach. “You were pregnant.” It’s not a question.

“He accused me of sleeping with other men because we always used a condom, but that argument didn’t hold water when he knew where I was at all times, and that pissed him off more. He threatened to take care of the problem himself.” Caleb’s fingers flex against my skin, and I run my fingers over his scalp, attempting to calm him. “I snapped. I kneed him in the balls, then ran for the door––”

“That’s my girl,” he says, pride lacing his tone.

“Unfortunately, he caught me before I could make it to the door. He got me down, broke my ankle, nearly bit part of my ear off, and the whole time I kept telling myself that that was it. That was the day I was going to die. He had a pocketknife his grandfather gave him. He liked to use it during our ‘conversations’ to instill what he would do to me if I ever left. But this time, he wasn’t threatening my life. He was threatening my child’s life. I begged him, pleading for him not to hurt our child, but it was no use in the end. He drove the small blade into my gut, and I knew the moment my baby had died because a piece of me died with it.” I didn’t realize I was crying until the warmth of Caleb’s hand rested on my cheek. “I guess a neighbor heard my screams because the cops knocked down the door soon after, and Wyatt was taken to jail, and I was taken to the hospital. I was taken into surgery and told that I wouldn’t be able to have children. Until that day, my mother never knew what had been going on. The only reason she found out was because she had to sign paperwork on my behalf. She treated me like a weakling. Like I should just suck it up. So I did. I physically healed then went back to class as though nothing happened. Then I met Michael, and he became the support system––the family I never had.”

More tears fall as I end my story, but Caleb’s thumb is there, lightly brushing them away. Then his eyes roam the length of my body before they land on the small scar on my stomach. I instinctually cover the mark, but Caleb is quick to grasp my hand, laying it on the bed beside my hip. Keeping his grass-green eyes on me, he kisses the offending scar. A sob breaks free from my chest, and I see his eyes mist over, but they shut before his own emotions spill over.

He lifts his lips from my stomach, and his eyes lock on mine. “You should have been worshipped––treasured.” He crawls up my body, placing delicate kisses along my skin until he reaches my lips. “You should have been treated like the precious gift you are.”

His flowery words have me smiling through my tears. “For a man that claims to be anti-romance, you sure know how to speak the language.” I run a finger down the slope of his nose. I hoped to elicit a chuckle from him. Instead, I see fury in his green eyes.

He jumps to his feet like the bed is on fire, and he spears his fingers in his hair. Pacing back and forth, he curses to himself before he speaks. “I hit you! I laid my hands on you. I made you submit to me.” His breathing has become erratic, and his tone turns icy. The veins in his neck bulge against his tanned skin and every muscle is taut with tension.

“Caleb, what are you talking about?” I sit up and pull on his discarded dress shirt.

His eyes swing to me, and his pupils are near pinpoints from the anger brewing inside him. I know I should feel fear at the rage that emanates from his very being, but I can’t seem to fear Caleb. Call me naïve, call me stupid, but I believe him when he says he will never hurt me.

“What am I talking about?! I fucking forced you to submit to me. I’ve used my own hands to bring you pain, and I enjoyed every bit of the control I held over you. Fuck, Talia! How can you sit there and look at me?”

“What?!” I’m not sure why his words anger me so much, but they do, and he steps back as though I’ve slapped him. “You think you’re like him?” I laugh like a madwoman, my anger growing to new heights. “You are nothing like him, and you did not force me to do anything! I signed that contract knowing full well what I was getting––”

“You signed it because I held the shares over your head––”

“Don’t fucking interrupt me, Marron,” I fume through gritted teeth. “I signed it because I wanted you. Do you really think if I didn’t want what you were offering, I would have given you that type of power?” When he opens his mouth to answer, I continue, “Hell, no! I would have found another way. I would have fought you tooth and nail for those shares. I signed that contract because I wanted what you were offering, and I figured it would be the only way to get it. And when it comes to you causing me pain? I knew I could always say stop, but I didn’t want to. The pain you inflicted was nothing. Nothing like what he did to me.” Caleb winces at my words, but I won’t go easy on him. He needs to know I could never see him as anything resembling that bastard.

Standing, I approach his perfect naked body. He takes a step back as though he’s being hunted by a wild animal. When his muscled ass hits the small bar top, I place a hand on his chiseled chest, and a breath hisses through his teeth at my touch.

Leaning into him, I make sure my lips are against his ear as I speak. “The pain you inflicted wasn’t for my torture, but for my pleasure.” I stroke my tongue over the shell of his ear, and I feel him shiver against my breasts. “Every crack of the flogger, every sting from your palm, made me wet and needy for you.” I suck his earlobe into my mouth before pulling away to look into his eyes, only to find them closed. “Look at me, Caleb.” His eyelids lift, and I stroke his bristly chin. “You never hurt me, Caleb. And can I tell you a secret?” I whisper seductively.

He swallows hard before answering, “Of course.”

“Even before I met you––before I met him––I had been curious about that world. Your world. It always appealed to me. Maybe that’s why I threw myself into a relationship with him. He seemed controlled, and at first, the possessiveness and authority turned me on, but then he showed me his true colors. He was a coward that felt he had to have me under his thumb. I knew that wasn’t what that world was about, and I could separate the two. So, you see, Caleb, I have always had the desire to submit. I have always desired to feel the erotic pain, followed by the most mind-numbing release I have ever experienced. I just picked the wrong man, and I paid dearly for it.” I place his hand on my scar and nearly crack in two when a single tear runs down his cheek. “Do you want to hurt me, Caleb? Will you hurt me the way he hurt me?”

“No! Never.” He lifts his ass from the bar, and his spine goes ramrod straight. He grasps my cheeks in his warm, strong hands, and his words leave his lips in a rush. “You would never suffer under my hands.”

I smile and nuzzle his palm. “I know. I have seen evil. I have felt fear. I have felt true pain. None of which I have ever felt in your presence or by your hand.” I rub the tip of my nose against his. “Even when you’re being an ass.” I smirk, and my spirits lift at his responding chuckle.

“An ass, huh?” He nips at my bottom lip.

“Mhmm,” I hum as he pecks each side of my mouth, denying me full contact.

He touches his forehead against mine and takes in a deep breath before letting it out with a heavy sigh. “You consume my every thought, Talia. Ever since that night at my club, you have invaded every space, every crevice of my mind. I won’t lie and say I don’t enjoy you submitting to me, that a part of me craves to hold dominion over your body, mind, and soul, but I can say that I would never use that need as a weapon. I would never cause you the type of pain that… that fucker caused you,” he declares through clenched teeth.

I run feather-light strokes over his cheek to calm him, and when I feel his jaw relax under my touch, I speak, “I believe you, Caleb. And that’s why I feel safe to explore your world with you.” I lift his head so our eyes connect. “That’s why I’m asking you not to handle me with kid gloves. Don’t treat me as if I’m broken. Please don’t let this change what we have.”

His eyes search my own, and I can only pray he finds what he’s looking for. When he doesn’t speak for a long moment, my stomach drops, and my hope vanishes. He lifts me by my thighs and carries me to my bed, laying me down gently. His shirt gapes open, and my body is on full display for him. His eyes scorch a path along my skin as they roam every inch of my exposed flesh. His large body hovers above me as his hand joins in on his eyes’ exploration. I arch into his touch, and a low moan escapes my lips when his calloused fingers graze my nipple.

“I’m sorry, Talia, but things have to change.”

My heart shatters, and I go to sit up, but he presses his hard chest on top of me, keeping me immobile. “Caleb, please,” I plead.

“Sshh, angel,” he purrs, and the endearment has me softening beneath him. “Let me finish.” He grinds his very stiff cock against my clit, and my arousal wets his thick length. “Consider the contract void,” he grits, then lifts his hips and brings the head of his cock to my entrance before slowly entering me.

I know I should be concerned with his words. I should be worried that he’s not keeping up his end of our deal, but with each lazy thrust of his hips, I can’t seem to give a damn.

“Caleb.” My nails dig into his back, and he hisses in pain and drives hard and deep inside me. I cry out with the delicious pain that quickly morphs into ecstasy.

“You don’t control how I give you pleasure, angel.”

“And you don’t get to bail on our deal.” I dig my nails in again, and this time he growls like a beast, disengages from me, and flips me to my stomach. With a slap to my ass, he plunges deep inside me again. I push back against him, attempting to make him lose control.

Another hard slap lands on my ass before he thrust so hard I would collapse if he wasn’t holding my hips in his vise-like grip. “I’m not bailing on our deal. Because there is no deal,” he shouts.

“Like hell, there isn’t, Marron!” Though my anger is reaching a fevered pitch, I can’t help the moans and pants that escape my mouth.

Caleb’s hips piston forward at a brutal pace and his teeth sink into my shoulder like an animal subduing its mate. “There’s no deal because I’m giving you the fucking shares you need,” he says through gasps, and my heart sinks even as my clit buzzes and my stomach tightens with my impending climax.

“So, you’re done with me? What, you couldn’t handle my demons?” Another swat hits my ass, then his fingers are on my clit, and with a sharp pinch to the hardened bud, I detonate. My scream echoes through my tiny apartment, and I briefly thank God for the crummy area I live in. Otherwise, the cops would surely be called. With one final thrust and a loud bellow from his lips, Caleb finds his own release.

We’re both sweaty and gasping for air when he collapses next to me. When I come back down from my orgasmic high, his words play in my head. There is no deal. I’m giving you the fucking shares you need. I should be elated that I’m finally getting what I’ve worked so hard for. Instead, a pit of despair opens wide in my stomach. I turn my back to Caleb and will myself not to cry.

I should have never told him. He’s done with me now.

“Hey, what’s going on? Why are you turning away from me?” I don’t answer him. I can’t answer him for the lump in my throat. When he turns me to my back, I turn my head away from him. I can’t look into his electric green eyes. “Talia, look at me,” he commands, but this time I don’t obey.

With a hand to my cheek, he turns my head. I clench my eyes shut like a petulant child and feel his lips graze my closed eyelids. “Open your eyes, angel,” he whispers against my skin, and I allow myself to submit. His smile is broad and glorious when he speaks, “Good girl.” He brushes away a stray lock of hair from my face, then cups my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Now tell me why you’re pulling away?”

I look at him with a mixture of confusion and anger. “Me? You’re the one going back on our deal. I spread my demons before you, and now you’re running scared.”

Now it’s his turn to look at me in confusion. “What are you talking about? I’m not running.”

“Then what do you call it? Because I call it, you trying to get rid of me.” I wiggle beneath his hold, and his responding growl has my core tingling again, which only serves to piss me off more. I shove against his beefy chest, but he doesn’t budge, so I begin to smack at him instead. “Get off me!”

“No!”

I thrash beneath him, and when my wrists are seized and lifted above my head, I bellow into his face, “Fuck you, Caleb Marron!”

He presses his chest into mine, and I sink deeper into the mattress. “Stop it, Talia!” he barks, and it only has me jerking harder beneath him—until he brings his lips to my ear and whispers, “Angel.” Like a sedative to my soul, the endearment courses through my body, and my muscles instantly liquify. “Breathe, beautiful.” I do as he commands, and he hums his approval. When he feels my body go pliant in his hold, he releases my wrist and trails his hand down my arm to my hip, where he keeps me pinned. “I’m not getting rid of you. Quite the opposite.”

I search his eyes. “What… what do you mean?”

He runs the tip of his nose along mine, and a smirk plays on his soft lips. “It means I plan on keeping you, Talia Stone. No contract, no deal, no bargaining. You get the shares you need. No strings attached.” I look at him with stunned, wide eyes, and the smile slips from his lips. “Unless that isn’t what you want. I thought…” He runs a hand through his shaggy locks and grips them at the roots. “Fuck, Talia, is that not what you want? I won’t force you to be with me. Either way, the shares are yours. Just––”

I press my lips to his and grasp the back of his neck, pulling him deeper into my kiss. He moans into my mouth and strokes his tongue against mine. “Does that mean yes?” he mumbles against my lips. I nod, not wanting to break our embrace, but he pulls lips from mine. “I need the words, angel.”

“Yes, it’s what I want. No contract, no deal, no bargaining, and no strings.” I stroke his bearded cheek. “Just you.”

His smile spreads warmth throughout my chest, and his words are a balm to my soul. “You have me, angel. You always have.”

20

Caleb

As much as I didn’t want to leave Talia Saturday morning, I had plans with Scotty the rest of the day, and I wouldn’t cancel on him. When I told Talia about my and Scotty’s plans for an all-day video game face-off, she told me she would let my abandoning her slide, but on one condition.

That condition? That she gets to meet the famous Scotty Delaney one day. Apparently, Talia has watched his videos and even read some of his short stories. She doesn’t care about his fame though; she is more enamored by his story and how he and I bonded. So with my promise of an introduction and a time set for Monday morning for her, her team, and mine to meet, I left.

Scotty whipped my ass as usual, and we played until our stomachs growled with hunger. We would eat then head right back to our controllers. We finally laid them down at ten that evening, and I headed out.

As I enter my home, I hope to get a message or text from Talia and find myself disappointed when I don’t. What is she doing to me?

Heading to the kitchen, I grab a bottled water to wash away the salty tang of potato chips and overly processed sandwich meat. Tomorrow morning’s workout will need to be intense if I am going to work off all the crap he and I ate throughout the day.

My phone pings in my pocket, and I nearly drop the damn thing trying to get at it in the hopes that it’s Talia finally messaging me.

What the hell, Marron? Get yourself together.

My chest warms, and my dick hardens when I see her name on the screen.

[Talia: How bad is Scotty kicking your ass? -T]

I can’t help but chuckle at her sixth sense.

[Caleb: Why do you assume he’s kicking my ass? I am, after all, a tech nerd. -C]

I head to my bathroom and begin to strip when she texts back.

[Talia: Keyword being tech. I have a feeling Scotty has your number when it comes to video games. -T]

She couldn’t be more right. The guy is a genius when it comes to video games. That’s why I have him test out any potential gaming projects that M.H.T. takes on.

[Caleb: Okay, you got me. He kicked my ass. I left about thirty minutes ago. Tail tucked between my legs.

-C]

Her reply is swift.

[Talia: Poor baby. It’s okay though, not every man can handle his joystick. ;) -T]

I let out a booming laugh, and I want to text her back, reminding her how well I handled my “joystick” last night, but I know it will lead to neither one of us getting any sleep.

[Caleb: Get your ass to bed, angel. I’ll see you on Monday. -C]

I turn on the shower while I wait for her response, and when the familiar ding sounds, my dick becomes uncomfortably erect.

[Talia: Yes, Sir. -T]

Shit, this woman is going to be the death of me.

The weekend ended with a family dinner, where Lizzy regaled my parents about how she was kicking ass and taking names during her training with Marron House Security. I hadn’t spent much time there recently and told myself I needed to check in more often. I trusted Jax, but I knew as co-founder, I needed to show more of a presence.

But right now, my focus is strictly on getting the Tanish shares moved over to Talia. I ride up in the elevator with my team, and with each ticking floor, I have to talk my dick down. Talia has a hold on me, and though it concerns me to a degree, I bask in it as well. Talia is––as cliché as it is–– a breath of fresh air. I know she wants the shares from me, but I never once second-guess what giving them to her means. I don’t worry that she will immediately put a halt to our relationship.

Fuck. I am in a relationship.

The metal doors open, and my team and I enter the Tanish… Stone Technologies reception area, and from the looks of it, Talia hasn’t had the chance––or perhaps the funds––to redecorate. The furniture is by no means falling apart, but they are well worn, and the receptionist desk has seen better days. Walking up to the petite redhead that reminds me of Lucy, I make sure to dial back my usual asshole persona and actually smile.

“Good morning. We’re here to meet with Miss Stone and Mr. Saunders. I’m Caleb Marron.”

“I know who you are, Mr. Marron.” Her cheeks pink. “Miss Stone said to send you back. Conference room B. Straight down this hall and to your left.”

“Thanks.” I wink, and her cheeks redden further.

Walking down the narrow hallway, I take in the sounds of people working, and if any of them know the company is close to shutting its doors, they don’t show it. People smile at one another as they discuss what they are currently working on, and boisterous laughter echoes from one of the glass pods to my right.

I stop to study the group made up of three men and two women. To anyone else, they look to be slacking off, but to someone like me, who knows the business, they are hard at work. The blueprints scattered around the table, the disheveled clothes, the take-out that litters the area are all markers of people working hard to bring something to life.

“I guess soon you’ll get to be in on all our secrets.”

I turn at the sound of Michael Saunders’ voice and find him leaning against the conference room door. “Despite what you may think, Mr. Saunders, I have no interest in any of S.T.’s secrets.”

He studies me for a moment before he nods and directs me into the conference room. “Miss Stone will be in shortly. Meanwhile, I will make the introductions. These are S.T.’s lawyers.” He gestures to the two men standing on the opposite side of the conference table. “Mr. Jerry Lone and Mr. Harold Mender.”

“Lone and Mender. I’ve heard good things about your practice. I’m glad to have you on our side.”

Michael clears his throat and gestures for us to be seated when the door suddenly flies open, and a somewhat disheveled Talia practically stumbles in. Little wisps of hair have fallen in front of her beautiful eyes, and her cheeks are pink with exertion, and the memory of her body flushed and slick with sweat as she writhed beneath me stiffens my cock.

“I am so sorry for not greeting you. We had a pretty big breakthrough in the lab and––well, nevermind. Welcome.”

She takes a seat at the head of the table with Michael at her right and me on her left. She begins pulling items from her briefcase, and I will her to look at me. When I see the knowing smile on her face, I know she feels the undeniable pull. Once she’s organized her folders and paperwork, she finally looks at me, and the electricity that charges between us could light up the state of Texas.

“Mr. Marron, would you like to begin?”

You have no idea. I would begin by stripping that little pink blouse from your smooth, milky tits and––

“Mr. Marron?” I swing my eyes to Michael as he speaks. “Would you like to begin?” he asks, one eyebrow tipped up. When I look back at Talia, I can see she’s suppressing a grin. Little minx.

“Yes, of course. We are here to transfer over the controlling share of Tanish Technologies.” I see Talia wince at the name of her bastard sperm donor. “Once these papers are signed,” I lift the papers that give Talia her dream, “Miss Stone will legally have control of this company.” Talia lets out a shaky breath but otherwise keeps her composure. “With one condition,” I decree.

Talia’s eyes widen, and she looks at Michael, whose hands are fisted on top of the table. “What condition?” he asks through gritted teeth.

I don’t remove my eyes from Talia’s as I hand over a second stack of paperwork. “On the condition that you sign this document, legally changing the name to Stone Technologies.”

Talia lets out the breath she is holding, and I smile at the sparkle of affection in her eyes. “I agree to those terms.” She turns to Michael. “Michael?”

“Of course,” he agrees, his posture much more relaxed.

“Great. From what I understand, each party and their respective legal counsel has read and agreed to the terms stated in the contract?”

There is a resounding yes from everyone, so I remove my pen from my breast pocket––the same pen Talia used to sign the original contract between her and me––and extend it to her. With that knowing smile, she takes it and signs each page.

With her back ramrod straight and her head held high, she hands me my pen, and I can’t help but graze my index finger along her palm as I take the pen from her. I don’t miss the tiny gasp that escapes her pouty lips.

She stands and collects her papers, and we all follow suit. Michael is the first to exit the conference room, but not before shaking hands and making his excuses. Both my and Talia’s lawyers exit next, and I take the opportunity to guide Talia out of the room with a hand at the small of her back. When I see her cheeks turn an innocent shade of pink and her breathing escalate, I bask in how responsive she is to my touch.

Suddenly she stops in front of her office door and turns to me. “Mr. Marron, could you spare a moment more? There is a different matter I would like to discuss with you.”

I narrow my eyes at her and see the mischievous twinkle in her ocean eyes. Turning to my lawyers, I let them know they may go, then gesture for Talia to proceed me into her office.

As soon as the door is shut, I’m shoved against it, and Talia’s lips are on mine. She’s ravenous as her fingers spear in my hair, and her teeth nip at my lips. I respond in kind, twisting the roots of her hair in my hand as I plunge my tongue into her mouth and growl when she lightly sucks. We need oxygen, but neither one of us is willing to disengage. Bringing my hand to her beautiful tit, I pluck at the tightened bud of her nipple under the silky material of her blouse, and her responding whimper has my dick rock hard.

I pull away slightly, my lips only a breath away from hers. “Miss Stone, this is very unprofessional. I could file sexual harassment charges against you.” I smirk against her lips as I peck at them.

“Do your worst, Mr. Marron,” she purrs and runs her tongue along the seam of my lips.

Another growl escapes my lips, and when I’m about to pick her up and fuck her on her desk, a disembodied voice comes through her desk phone. “Miss. Stone, I have Mr. Embers on line one.”

Talia’s eyes light up, and she practically runs for her desk phone. She pats down her hair and straightens her outfit as though this Mr. Embers can see through the phone. A sudden rush of jealousy courses through me, but when I look at her, the smile on her face is one just for me, and my emotions settle.

I point to the door, silently asking if she wants me to leave. She shakes her head, then gestures to the small seating area in the corner.

I sit and watch as she takes a deep breath then picks up the receiver. “Mr. Embers, thank you for getting back to me so quickly. I know you must be very busy.” She listens for a moment, and soon the bright smile on her face fades, and her brow furrows. “Mr. Embers, your project would have nothing to do with Mr. Tanish’s technology. We have done away with everything that had to do with––” She presses her lips into a thin line when the fucker interrupts her.

Turning to face the floor-to-ceiling windows, she continues to listen before finally speaking. “I believe you’re making a colossal mistake, Mr. Embers. My engineers have tested and re-tested the product and believe… No, we know we have figured out the issues and have even come up with a solution. If you would just meet––” He interrupts again, and my blood begins to boil. “Fine. Yes, thank you for your time.” She hangs up and turns back to the windows.

I let her spend a moment in thought before I walk over and put my arms around her waist and my chin on the crown of her head. “Talk to me, angel.”

She lets out a heavy sigh then turns in my arms. Her eyes lock on mine, searching. When she seems to find what she’s looking for, she pulls herself from my arms and begins to pace. “That was Raymond Embers, Deputy Administrator for NASA,” she says matter-of-factly. She stops her pacing and looks at me, but I stay silent. “Do you know anything about their current project, the Altair 1?”

M.H.T. works mainly on the military side of technology, so I shake my head. “No, we haven’t worked with NASA, though we have been approached by them in the past. M.H.T. focuses mainly on Military Security. Though we’ve recently added a bit of game engine technology in for fun. Scotty’s idea,” I add.

She smiles at the mention of my cousin’s name. Still, her lips tip down when she continues speaking, “Basically, Altair 1 is planned to be an uncrewed lunar mission that will help ensure spacecraft are built to international interoperability standards. Their goal is to have another set of astronauts land on the moon and to establish sustainable exploration. If successful, this would open up the possibility of sending astronauts to Mars,” she says in wonder. “However, NASA is having trouble figuring out how to make the SLS––space launch system—powerful enough, and configuring updates to the EGS’s mobile launcher platform has proven difficult. They need to work out those issues to assure both systems are at max capabilities before launching.”

She takes a step closer to me, and I can see the agitation on her face and the unrest in her mind. “Caleb, my engineers have figured it out,” she declares, and the pride in her voice makes me want to clutch her in my arms and congratulate her with a dozen kisses.

Then I remember the one-sided conversation I overheard. It is clear that the Deputy Admin won’t even give her the time of day. She confirms my suspicions when she continues, “But they won’t even meet with my team and me.” She runs a hand through her golden locks in frustration. “No matter what Michael and I have done to turn this company around, we’re still considered the scourge of the technology world, thanks to that bastard Tanish.”

Her fuse is lit, and I can see her losing the battle to stay calm. I gather her in my arms, and she immediately melts into me and takes a deep, cleansing breath. I hold her for a moment, soaking up her intoxicating scent and the soft curves of her body. It isn’t sexual, though. Yes, I could lay her on the warn, itchy carpet and fuck her all day long, and I’m confident she wouldn’t complain, but that’s not what this moment is about. Right now, she needs my presence. She needs me to anchor her.

When she lifts her head, and our eyes lock, something passes between us. Something that has my heart pounding wildly in my chest and my lips parting to say the words I never thought I would say to anyone other than my family.

Before the words can escape, though, the door flies open, and Michael stands there out of breath. “I just heard Raymond Embers called,” he puffs.

Talia extracts herself from my embrace and crosses her arms over her chest. “Yeah. He refuses to even meet with us. Said he doesn’t believe getting involved with Tanish Technologies would look good for NASA. I tried to––”

“I know you did,” Michael interrupts and runs agitated fingers through his hair, and I almost chuckle at how these two are so much alike. I was crazy to worry about Talia and Michael ever being an item. They’re more like brother and sister with their same mannerisms and quirks.

That’s why when he walks over to her and embraces her in a crushing hug, I don’t feel the surge of possessiveness I did the night of the gala. “Screw him, Tai. If our guys can figure out something even NASA couldn’t figure out, then imagine what other problems we can solve?”

Talia shakes her head and sits on the sofa I just vacated. “Michael, you know as well as I do that was our only shot.” She looks at me. “For the same reason Mr. Embers so pleasantly pointed out, we had no choice but to put all our eggs in one basket. We were so sure we had this.” She shakes her head and chews on the side of her lip.

“We did have it, Tai. Those assholes are just too short-sighted to see the incredible opportunity in front of them.” He sits next to her and takes her hands in his.

They talk amongst themselves, and I take the opportunity to pull up Raymond Embers’ bio. Mr. Embers is a sixty-year-old retired Air Force pilot who has worked for NASA in various roles for thirty-five years. I scroll down to look at any possible accolades the man may have acquired. Beyond earning a Purple Heart during his service, I can’t seem to find anything worth the man thinking he has the right to snub someone who has a solution to his project’s problem––possibly saving NASA millions if not billions in delays.

The only reason I can think of is that the man is a sexist asshole, and knowing a woman has taken over a company dominated by men doesn’t sit well with his dick-swinging sensibilities.

Talia and Michael are still engrossed in their conversation when a light bulb goes off in my head. “I’ll invest,” I blurt, and both sets of eyes swing in my direction.

“What?” both say in unison.

“I don’t pretend to know exactly what this project entails, but if––like Michael said––you have solved a problem NASA themselves can’t seem to solve, then I want in.” When I see Talia is about to argue, I lift my hand to stop her protest. “This is business, Talia. Our relationship has nothing to do with it, so you can get that out of your head. Now, have your engineers solved the problem? And if so, can they prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt?” I look between her and Michael.

She nods enthusiastically before saying, “Yes, absolutely. They have checked the numbers and have put it through test trials. It works and can be demonstrated.”

That’s all I need to know. I look at Michael. “How much do you need to keep the company afloat long enough to get that NASA bastard to drop the sexist bit and schedule that meeting?”

He looks at Talia briefly before looking back at me. “I would need to double-check, but Mr. Marron––”

“Caleb,” I interrupt.

“Caleb. I know you’re very successful and very wealthy, but the amount we need is significant. And you would be risking NASA still not giving us the meeting.” He looks back at Talia, and he seems to decide something in his head before he stands. “But if you invest in S.T., then I will personally take on the debt if the NASA project doesn’t go through.”

I hear Talia gasp at her friend’s potential sacrifice. If the amount needed is as significant as he makes it out to be, Michael Saunders would be in my debt for the foreseeable future. Looking over the man’s shoulder, I see the tears shine in Talia’s eyes, and I look back at Michael with a new sense of respect and gratitude.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. Saunders. Again, I’m not doing this for personal reasons. This is a business decision, one I believe both our companies will prosper significantly from.”

He narrows his eyes at me, and I see the suspicion in his dark eyes. “Then what do you want if it fails? Are you going to write up another contract to make Talia your sex toy?”

“Michael!” Talia scolds.

Though my veins pump pure acid as a result of his comment, my lips tilt up. I know when someone is testing me, and Mr. Saunders is testing me. He wants to see how much his best friend means to me. “On the off chance that this fails, then I lose the money I invested. I take my losses and continue doing what I do.” I step closer to him, and with a threat in my eyes, I continue, “Don’t ever speak about Talia in such a way again. I know you two care for each other, but I won’t hesitate to pull your tongue from your mouth if you ever refer to her like that again.”

We stand nearly chest to chest, and when I think he may take a swing at me, instead, he smiles and extends his hand to me. “I look forward to doing business with you, Mr. Marron.” I shake his offered hand. He turns to Talia and nods. “I’ll let you two speak alone while I finalize the numbers.” He turns to leave, but I stop him before he reaches the door.

“Wait, there is something I need from you.” I look back at Talia. “Both of you.” Talia stands, and her once defeated posture has straightened in confidence. “I need you two to meet me at Kennedy’s tonight at eight,” I say, referring to the subterranean steakhouse only a few blocks away.

I have a plan to get that meeting with NASA. I know I can just call Mr. Embers and inform him I am backing S.T., and in return, he will be tripping over himself to meet with me. I’m not being a cocky asshole. I just know how these men work.

My plan is to have the fact that the Caleb Marron is investing in a competing tech company’s project accidentally leak. I will set it up to look like Talia and Michael snagged my attention, and we are meeting at Kennedy’s to celebrate our new business venture together.

Seeing as it is Monday now, I give Embers until Wednesday before he calls me to meet, at which point I will inform him––or rather I will instruct my assistant to inform him––that everything pertaining to the Altair 1 project is to go through Stone Technologies.

After disclosing my plan, both look at each other, and a whole conversation seems to pass between them. Talia nods then looks at me before speaking. “Caleb, I appreciate––we––appreciate the effort you’re putting into this plan, but the problem is Embers will only jump at the chance because your name is attached to it. Stone Technologies will still be the odd man out.”

I understand her concern, but she is still new to this industry, and I know how the game is played. “You’re right. M.H.T. will be the main focus. That is until S.T. steps in and shows that it’s their engineers that saved the Altair mission. From there, reporters will hound me for interviews, and I will use it to keep the spotlight on you and how you took a company built on dirty money and metaphorically demolished and rebuilt it the way it should have been built. With hard work and sacrifice.”

Again, the pair look at each other, but this time Michael shrugs before saying, “What do we have to lose?”

When Talia looks back at me, the smile on her face lights up the room. “Nothing. We have nothing to lose.”

21

Talia

If I didn’t know any better, I would think magic was real. That’s how shocked I am when I wake up Tuesday morning to find a picture of me, Michael, and Caleb sitting around a four-top table at Kennedy’s Steakhouse.

All three of us have giant grins on our faces, and we are lifting our champagne glasses in a toast. But what really surprises me is the small article under the photo. Caleb hadn’t lied when he said he and M.H.T. would be put in the spotlight, Michael and I are barely mentioned, and then it is only to speculate about our dinner together.

It isn’t until the next day that Stone Technologies finally gets the spotlight. The reporter was able to get a quick phone interview with Caleb, and he sang Stone Technologies’ praises. When he was asked what we were celebrating Monday evening, he simply said, “Stone Technologies presented me with an incredible opportunity, and I jumped on it. S.T. is on the cusps of something incredible, and I wanted in.”

When the reporter tried to squeeze Caleb for more details on what precisely the project entails, Caleb told her, “All I can say is that this project is out of this world, and anyone who doesn’t jump on the chance to be a part of it is a fool.”

I don’t believe I have ever smiled so big in my life while reading that article. Caleb kept his word, and by Wednesday afternoon, Raymond Embers was calling me to set up a time to meet with his team on Friday.

Everything went off without a hitch, and when Mr. Embers shook my hand and told me he looked forward to working with Stone Technologies, I nearly kissed the man.

I may have resisted planting a sloppy one on Embers, but what I can’t resist is planting one on Caleb’s sensual, plump lips the moment he walks through my office doors after my meeting.

“Whoa, angel!” He tugs my head back by the roots of my hair, and I purr at the sting. “I’m guessing the meeting went well?”

“Mmhmm. All thanks to you,” I whisper and try to get to his lush lips, but he pulls harder on my roots and slightly jerks his fist.

“No, angel, it was you. I may have lit a fire under his ass, but you still had to sell him on using your technology. You’re fucking incredible, and I am in awe of you.” He slides his nose against mine. “I’m proud of you.” He caresses my cheek with his lips. I feel his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows deeply before he whispers against my ear. “I love you, Talia.” My heart pounds in my throat, and my eyes sting with unshed tears. His hand loosens in my hair, then massages my scalp. He lifts his head, and his vivid green eyes latch onto the soul center of me, and suddenly I’m floating, my head high in the clouds. I’m so deep in the high of his words that I can’t seem to speak. All I can do is shut my eyes and bask in the warmth of his words.

I don’t want to leave this high, but the deep timbre of Caleb’s voice pulls me back to earth. “I know it seems fast. Hell, we were enemies not too long ago, but––”

I place my fingers over his lips, and his electric eyes search my ultramarine ones. “I love you too,” I whisper, and his lips tip up beneath my hand before he nips at my fingertips.

“Good. You weren’t getting rid of me anyway.” He hoists me up by my thighs and walks to my desk, where he sits me down on top of the polished wood. “I would have just had to make you love me.”

I run my fingers through his silky brown locks. “And how would you have accomplished that, Mr. Marron?”

He presses a hand to the center of my chest, and I immediately obey and lay back on my desk. He lifts my skirt and finds my black cotton thong. Hooking his long fingers into the band, he pulls the material down my legs, and once he’s relieved me of my thong, he shoves the sensible but skimpy material into his inside breast pocket.

Patting his pocket, he says, “For later.” My breathing grows shallow at the thought of the naughty things he may do in his office with my panties.

Will he smell them as a reminder of what we’re about to do? Will he pleasure himself with them wrapped tightly around his fist? Will he––

“Now, you asked how I would make you love me.” He pulls over my office chair and plops his toned ass in it before running calloused fingers over the lips of my sex. I gasp and bite my fist to keep from crying out. He smirks at my struggle then continues, “I believe torture could be a tried and true way to get what I want.” The entire time he speaks, his fingers glide over my lips, and I moan with the growing heat in my belly.

“Caleb,” I breathe and hear the doorknob rattle, but I can’t seem to care.

His fingers come down harshly but not painfully on my now slick pussy. My cry of delight at the tingle in my clit can no longer be withheld. Thank God for soundproof walls.

“Shhh. No talking.” His tongue sweeps along my needy clit, and my body jolts with the current of sensual electricity that shoots to my core. “Fuck, I want to draw this out all day, but I have to taste you as you come on my tongue.” With no further preamble, his tongue spears my entrance, and my back arches in a deep curve, a loud moan torn from my throat. After a few pumps of his tongue, he replaces it with a finger, then two, as he laps at my clit with feather-soft licks, but my whimpers of need seem to break him, and he finally gives me what I desire.

His tongue stiffens, and his fingers quicken inside me, and when I’m close to tipping, he bites the tip of my clit, and the world shatters into a kaleidoscope of stars.

I scream out his name as wave after wave of glorious rapture wash over me, and when I consider the fact that I may have just died and gone to heaven, I feel his large cock at my entrance. I look up to see he’s shed his suit jacket, but his shirt, tie, and slacks still remain.

I’m swollen and still throbbing when he grabs my hips and slams into me. I hiss at the erotic pain and spear my fingers into my damp hair.

“Holy shit, Talia, you’re fantastic!” He thrusts hard and deep. “You were fucking made for me, angel.” I don’t speak. Instead, I just moan in agreement because what could I say? He isn’t wrong. I never felt like I belonged anywhere or with anyone, but all my missing pieces fall together with Caleb. “I want you to come with me, angel. I want your beautiful pussy to squeeze my dick as I come deep inside you. The woman I love. The woman I worship. The woman I will always cherish.”

His words have tears leaking from my eyes, my love for this man splitting me apart. Engaging my abs, I lift myself and sling one arm around the back of his neck. My teeth nip his plush bottom lip, and I whisper into his mouth, “Do it, Caleb. Come inside me. I want you to. You’re the only man I have ever loved.”

My words snap his barely contained control. His hand flies to my throat, and he squeezes just enough to make me light-headed. His thrust becomes brutal, and sweat drips down his temple. I begin to see spots, and when any other time I would be frightened, with Caleb, I’m not. I know I’m safe with him. Proving my point, he brings the fingers not around my throat to my clit and pinches the tender nub before he thrusts one last time and releases my throat.

My body convulses, and my chin tips to the ceiling in a silent scream. The mixture of dopamine and sudden increase of oxygen that rushes to my brain has me falling limp to the desk. But always, my protector, Caleb, cushions the fall before he roars his own release.

I’m coming back to earth when I feel his heavy breaths whisper against my cheek. “Do you really love me, angel?” I slowly open my eyes and see uncertainty in his green, glowing orbs.

I brush a lock of damp hair from his forehead and answer, “I think I fell for you two years ago at your nightclub.”

His head rears back, and the sweetest smile I have ever seen stretches his lips. “Oh, yeah? Was it my killer dance moves or my douchebag attitude?”

I tip my head side to side as though I’m pondering his question. “I think it was the way you looked at me. Like you wanted me as much as I wanted you. But it was more than a sexual need. It was,” I try to think of the right word, “more. I just didn’t realize how much more until you came back into my life.”

He seems to roll my statement around in that genius brain of his before he speaks. “You’re right. I did want you—more than I wanted my next breath. You changed everything for me that night, Talia, and it scared the shit out of me. It still scares the shit out of me.” He sighs. “Talia, I’m going to fuck up. I’m not good with––people. I know how to come up with the latest and greatest technology. I know how to close a business deal, and I know how to fuck.” I flinch at the reminder of his playboy ways, and he notices.

Pulling me up, he brushes my now limp curls from my face and cups my cheek. “It was just a part of my life––a part I used to satisfy my racing thoughts. I kept women at a distance otherwise. Something I tried to do with you, but try as I might, I couldn’t stay the fuck away from you. I couldn’t stop myself from falling for you.”

My eyes drift close, and a contented sigh leaves my lips. I snuggle into his palm and kiss the rough patch of skin. I go to tell him how much his words mean to me when the loud ping signaling a text sounds next to me. Huffing out a breath, I reach for it, certain it’s Michael looking for me.

I open the message and let out a frustrated growl when I read the text.

[Unknown: I hope you like my gift, beautiful. Can’t wait to see you again.]

“What the fuck?” Caleb barks, and I jump at his harsh tone. He grabs the phone from my hands, then stares daggers at me. “Who the fuck is this, and why is he sending you gifts? Seriously, Talia, after what we just shared? After what I just told you?” He slams my phone down on the desk, then turns to the window, righting his clothes before running his hands through his disheveled locks.

I jump off my desk and grab a tissue to clean his release from between my thighs, then head into my private washroom. I don’t shut the door as I pat my forehead with a washcloth and remove the smudged mascara from beneath my eyes.

“Speak, Talia.” Caleb’s stern voice comes from behind me.

I turn at his command and shove at his chest. “I’m not a fucking dog, Caleb. Don’t tell me to speak. Especially after you just accused me of screwing around.” I storm past him and hear a tentative knock on my door. After checking that both Caleb and I are decent, I open it to see my assistant holding a medium-sized box with a large red ribbon tied around it.

“This just arrived for you, Miss Stone.”

“Thank you, Judith. Go ahead and head home. We’re all going to be very busy soon, so take the rest of the day off.”

Judith beams at me and presses her hands together and over her chest. “I heard they accepted our proposal. I’m so excited. We will be helping NASA. I just can’t believe it.” She places her hands on her cheeks and grins widely, and I love how she says our proposal. Not yours, not S.T.’s, but our proposal. It lets me know that my employees—no matter their position in the company––feel like they are truly a part of the team. If S.T. fails, we all fail. If S.T. succeeds, we all succeed.

I thank her again, then shut my door. I can instantly feel the tension in the room has eased a bit––at least on Caleb’s part. I’m still pissed as hell at him for basically accusing me of cheating on him. Okay, maybe he didn’t actually say those words, but it was inferred.

Am I overreacting? No. Talia, stand your ground. He’s the one who messed up.

I place the box on my desk and begin to untie the bow, but I’m on autopilot. Caleb’s hand stops my movements. “Angel. I’m sorry.” His whispered words have me lifting my eyes to him. He lets out a frustrated breath. “I told you I was going to fuck up.” I tilt my head and cock my eyebrow, letting him know that excuse isn’t going to fly. He huffs out a chuckle then rubs a hand over his scruffy cheek. “Yeah, I know. It’s no excuse.” He steps closer and takes me in his powerful arms. My hands land on his granite-like forearms.

His forehead touches mine, and he lets out a deep breath before he speaks. “I saw that text, and my brain locked in on it—any chance for explanation or logic going out the window. I need you to understand that emotions aren’t my forte. Things are black and white to me. Either you’re with him, or you’re with me.”

I go to tell him I’m not with anyone else, but he lifts his fingers to my lips, just like I did to him earlier. “I know you’re not cheating on me. I know it’s just you and me. My brain just needed to catch up––or slow the fuck down.” He lifts my hand and places it on his solid pec, over his heart.

I nod in understanding, and his lips meet mine in a tender kiss of apology. He leans back slightly and wraps his arms around my waist. “So, I would assume that was a wrong number, but the box on your desk says otherwise. Would you care to explain, Miss Stone?” he asks playfully, but there’s a hint of a threat in his eyes. Not against me, but against the mysterious gift giver.

I turn to the box in question and realize I haven’t even given it any thought. I was so consumed with Caleb’s accusation that I didn’t stop and think of the box’s uncanny timing.

“Well, I would say yes, it’s a wrong number, but it’s the third text I’ve gotten like that. And the box arriving is a good indicator the texts are not due to a misdial.”

I go to untie the ribbon when Caleb grabs my hand again. “Three texts from an unknown number? What the hell, Talia. Why didn’t you tell me?”

I shrug. “The first time, I texted back telling the caller they had the wrong number and didn’t think about it again. Then I received another one Sunday evening, wishing me a good week. I deleted the text and blocked the number. I guess they got a new number.”

“Talia, you don’t think that’s strange?” he asks, and his tone has become condescending.

“Yes, Caleb, I do, but I have been a bit busy worrying about this damn company going under and the fact that I have fallen for the guy I am supposed to loathe. I haven’t really had the time to focus on stupid crap like,” I gesture to the box, “that.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. You’ve had a lot on your plate,” he brushes a lock of my hair behind my ear, “but I need you to tell me about these types of things. I can understand one, but three? Especially after you already told them it was a wrong number? I need you to be more aware, angel. This business we’re in may seem innocent and tame from the outside, but there are wolves at our door just waiting for us to misstep.” He kisses my forehead then turns to the box. “I need you to step back.”

I don’t question him. I step back and watch as he unties the red ribbon and uses my letter opener to break the box’s seal. A sudden foul smell perfumes the room. Turning his head slightly, Caleb lifts the four flaps, then curses before pulling out his phone. “Jax, get Bowman over to the Stone Technologies building now!” he barks into the phone then hangs up.

I take a step toward the box, but he stops me with a grip on my elbow. “What? What’s in the box?” He studies me for a moment, and I can see the battle raging in his mind. He doesn’t want me to see. He doesn’t know if I can handle it.

Pulling my arm from his firm grip, I walk over to the box and look inside. The walls are crusted over with crimson, and the smell becomes sickening. Holding a hand over my nose, I stare at the large, bloody––and very human––heart, then notice the photo of Caleb and me locked in an intimate embrace and a note. Instantly the handwriting chills me to the bone. I know that handwriting. It is the same handwriting that left me notes before.

Notes telling me that I better be home by a specific time or my punishment would be a belting. Notes telling me he was sorry and that he loved me. Notes that had me going into panic attacks every time I saw them stuck to the bathroom mirror.

But none of those notes struck fear into my very soul the way this one does. The words written on the crimson-stained paper have my vision going fuzzy and my ears buzzing, and right before my world goes dark, the note’s message screams through my brain.

Next time it will be his heart.

22

Caleb

My eyes never left her as she looks into the box that holds what seems to be a human heart. I watch as she takes in the contents. I struggle as I see her scan the note, and my heart stops when her knees collapse from beneath her. Thank God I am able to catch her before her head makes contact with the edge of the desk.

Scooping her up in my arms, I lay her on the couch. Her brow pinches, and a small groan leaves her mouth as she comes to. When her eyes flutter open and her blue orbs land on me, I feel like I can finally breathe. She places a hand on her forehead and squints before opening her eyes wide again and blinking quickly to clear her vision.

“What happened?”

“You fainted. Let me get you something to drink. Don’t move.” I stand and swing the door open to find Judith still sitting at her desk, even though Talia gave her the rest of the day off. “Judith, could you get Talia a bottled water?”

Judith looks up at me with a sweet smile, but it soon drops when she sees my obvious distress. “Yes, of course.” She walks swiftly in the direction of the break room, and I lean my head back in to check on Talia. She’s sitting up and staring into space. “Here you go.” I turn back to the open door and take the water from Judith’s hand. “Is she okay?” she frets.

“Yes, she’s fine. I think all the excitement has gotten to her. Thank you. Now do as she said and head home. Talia and I won’t be here much longer anyway.” She tries to look around me, but I’m not budging. I know Talia well enough to know she wouldn’t want her staff to see her as anything but in control.

When she sees I’m not going to move or say anything further, she nods and grabs her purse. I shut the door then sit next to Talia, and though I thought she was staring at nothing, I realize she was actually staring at the still open box. I unscrew the water cap and wrap her hands around the cool plastic. She startles at my touch, and the pit in my stomach grows.

“Drink, angel. Tye is on his way; otherwise, I would get rid of the box right now.”

She seems to come back to the here and now, turning to me and asking, “Who’s Tye?” She brings the bottle to her lips and takes a deep gulp. I want to pull her in my arms and comfort her, but I’m not sure how I would be received, so for now, I just stay close.

“He’s one of the guys that helped Jax and me startup Marron House Security, and one of the personal guards. He will most likely bring Xander––our tech guy––with him. We need to collect and process the box for fingerprints and blood cultures. Things like that.”

She places the water bottle on the table and digs her fingers into her silken locks.

God, what I wouldn’t do to run my fingers through her hair and massage gently. Just to bring her any kind of comfort.

“You don’t need to run fingerprints. I know who sent it.” She looks at me, her eyes revealing the truth.

I nod and clench my fists. “Wyatt.” I clench my fists. “We still need to have it documented.” Feeling my knuckles ache, I force my hands to relax. “We have to know what… or who that heart came from. We also need to figure out when that photo was taken, and––”

“The photo was taken on our first night together at Translucent, and the heart looks pretty human to me. But Caleb, the question is how? He’s supposed to be in prison.” Her voice begins to tremble in fear, and I can’t take it anymore. I move into her, take her in my arms, and thank everything holy, that she doesn’t push me away. She sighs into my chest, and I kiss the crown of her head.

“Maybe he’s having someone on the outside fuck with you.”

“Not his style. He would have to wait and let someone else do all the work. He likes to do the torturing himself.” She shivers in my arms, and I clutch her tighter. Her desk phone beeps, and she goes to pull herself from my arms, but my grip is like steel.

She lays her head back down and sighs. “It’s security. Your guys might be here.” I lift her chin, and the slight upward tip of her lips has me marveling at her beauty and strength. When I don’t speak, she places her soft hand on my bearded cheek and scratches her nails against the coarse hair. My eyes nearly roll to the back of my head at her affectionate touch. “I love hearing you purr,” she whispers, then uses my distracted state to stand and walk to her desk, keeping her distance from the death box. “Hey, Chuck.”

“Good evening, Miss Stone. There is a Mr. Tye Bowman and a Mr. Xander Cain from Marron House Security here to see you.”

“Yes, thank you. Go ahead and send them up.”

There’s a pause on the other side of the line before Chuck asks, “Is everything okay, Miss Stone? Do you need help? I–”

“We’ve had a bit of an issue, but everything will be fine. I’m not harmed, and everyone is safe. Go ahead and send them up.”

“Will do, Miss Stone,” he says hesitantly. She disconnects and comes to sit next to me, burrowing herself into my side. Her head falls to my shoulder, and I bring my lips to her temple. Inhaling deeply, I let her light floral scent wash over me. She’s here. She’s safe, and I will kill that motherfucker if he comes anywhere near her.

There’s a knock on the door, and with another kiss to her temple, I stand and let my guys in. Xander doesn’t waste any time slapping on a pair of latex gloves and getting to work.

I trust my guys with my life, so I let him work as I address Tye. “You will be on Talia’s security detail when I can’t be with her. She will be staying with me so I will be with her in the evenings. You’ll be driving her to and from the office unless I say otherwise, and––” My words are halted when I’m pushed from behind. I’m not expecting the shove, so my hands fly out and land on Tye’s chest. I swiftly straighten, and I don’t miss Tye trying to suppress a grin.

With a growl, I turn to see a livid Talia standing behind me, fists clenched at her sides and crimson shading her cheeks. “Don’t you dare try to manage me, Caleb Marron.” She walks up to me and points a slender finger in my face. “I don’t mind you wanting to protect me, but you will not talk about me as though I’m not standing five freaking feet from you,” she seethes, and I can’t help but smirk. This woman is so damn sexy when her fire is lit. “Hey,” she pokes me in the chest, “don’t fucking laugh at me.”

I grab her wrist firmly in my hand and turn my head to Tye. “Give us a minute.” He nods, then heads over to where Xander is still meticulously processing the box. I turn back to Talia, and when she sees the threat in my eyes, she begins to struggle in my hold. I grasp her wrist tighter, then give her a humorless grin. “I think you and I need to have a talk, angel.” Before she has time to argue, I drag her from the room. When she digs her heels into the worn carpet and nearly trips, I turn swiftly and catch her off guard, lifting her over my shoulder, then continue walking to a conference room.

“Oh, my God! I cannot believe you’re actually carrying me over your shoulder like a neanderthal. Put me down!” she bellows, and I swat her pert ass when the toe of her heel nearly makes contact with my groin.

I open the conference room door and use my foot to slam it shut, then gently sit her ass on the mahogany table. Leaning into her, I place a hand on either side of the table next to her hips. “First, I would never laugh at you––”

“You just––”

“I wasn’t laughing at you. I can’t help that your fire turns me on. Second… you’re right. I don’t need to talk about you like you’re not there.” I kiss the tip of her nose. “But angel, I need you to understand that I’m used to getting the job done. I see a problem, and I immediately work to fix it. Especially when it comes to the ones I love.” The anger in her eyes dims but doesn’t completely fade.

She grabs my tie and pulls me nose to nose with her. “I do understand that, but Caleb,” she releases my tie and cups both my cheeks, “I need to know we’re on equal ground. I am not your ward. I am not a client. I can let you protect me, but I will not let you rule my life. I had enough of that from him.”

My eyes widen, and I step back from her. Her words are like a slap to the face. “I am nothing like him! You said it yourself, Talia. I am nothing like those fucking animals!” I explode, and she flinches at my raised voice.

But, fuck, what does she expect? I worked my entire adult life to protect the ones I love. Vowing that no one I care for would be hurt again, taken from me again, and she has the nerve to compare what I’m trying to do to that monster?

I begin to pace, and my fingers grip my hair with brutal force. My breaths become gruff and uneven the longer I pace. My mind races with memories of my mother not coming home––of my inability to save her.

When Talia’s hand lands on my bicep, my ragged breaths still in my chest. I release my hair and turn to her, and my knees nearly buckle at the tears in her eyes. But her tears are not ones of fear or anger. No, they’re tears of anguish––for me.

She runs gentle fingers across my face, over my hair, then, gripping the back of my neck, she brings our foreheads together. “You were just a boy Caleb. There was nothing you could do.” I let out a choked breath at her words. “I know you are not like him or the man that took your mother—or the man that fathered me for that matter.” I shake my head, trying to dispel the memory of complete and utter loss. “I am so sorry for what happened to your family,” she whispers, and her voice is a soothing balm to my aching heart.

“Fuck. I feel like a pansy.” I chuckle.

“Don’t do that. You are not a pansy. When was the last time you actually grieved for what happened to you and your family?”

I mentally scan through my memories before I answer, “Not since I was nine?” Taking a deep breath, I clutch her to me and bury my head in her neck. She giggles as my scruffy chin tickles her sensitive skin, and the sound warms my heart and hardens my dick. I lift my head and look into her ultramarine eyes. “Please, Talia.” She looks at me in confusion. “I need this from you. I need you to let me protect you. Stay with me. Hell, I’ll give you the guest room if it makes you feel better, or you could pay for the groceries, or––”

“I’ll stay.”

“You will?” I ask, stunned.

“Yes. Staying was never the problem, Caleb. It was the high-handed way you went about it.” Her fingers graze my cheek, then run along my neck, to my chest, then to my belt, where she tugs me closer. “I love how you want to protect me. I even love your bossiness––sometimes. But please do not manage me.”

I run the tip of my nose against hers. “Deal.” I take her hand and help her off the conference table, but before she can take a step toward the door, I twirl her to face the table and press my chest against her back. “Now, I believe there is the matter of your punishment.”

“What…punishment?” Her breathing escalates, and her pulse thumps against my lips.

“That little shove you gave me in front of my men.” I nip her ear, and she lets out a sweet little moan.

“You… you deserved it,” she gasps.

“Maybe so, but I need my team to see me as in control, steady, firm. You, my angel,” I run my tongue along the shell of her ear, “undermined my authority. I may have been an ass, but I need them to see me as nothing but in complete control. So, do you accept your punishment?”

I suck the skin of her neck, and she purrs and shivers in my arms. “Answer me, Talia,” I rasp, my cock like steel against her lower back. I won’t take her––we don’t have time––but I will enjoy every sting of my palm as it comes down on her toned ass.

I have become so attuned to her body that I can feel her hesitation. I lift my fingers to her chin and turn her head to look at me. “You know I would never hurt you, Talia. I want to spank your sweet ass and torture us both.” I place a gentle kiss on her appetizing bottom lip. “The type of torture that has us needing each other to the point of nearly exploding when we come together again. But it can wait.” I only get an inch away before she’s grabbing my shirt and pulling me back to her.

“No, I want it now. I’m sorry I hesitated. You’re not him, and even when you’re doling out punishment, you give me pleasure, so do it, Caleb. Give us both what we need.”

I growl at the sultry tone of her voice. Turning her back around, I press my hand down on her back. She lays her torso on the cool table, and I lift her tight skirt to expose her bare ass, and damn, it is a glorious sight. “Fuck, angel, you have the finest ass I have ever seen. It was made to have my handprint on it.” She wiggles her slender hips, and I swat the side of one ass cheek just enough to make it jiggle. “Be still. These are going to be hard and fast. You will get five.”

I rub the soft silk of her skin, then land the first and second blow in quick succession. I check the look on her face, and when I see the small grin and the parting of her luscious lips, I know she’s with me. She’s enjoying her punishment. But to make sure I have her full attention, I bring two fingers to her pussy and glide them up and down on each side of her clit. She moans with my touch but stays completely still. Good girl.

“Okay, these next three are going to hurt, but no more than you can handle.” My hand comes down hard, and her cry of pain morphs into one of ecstasy as I continue to scissor her pussy lips and rub just out of reach of her clit. My hand comes down harder still on swat four and five, and both of us are sweating, our breathing ragged. I lean over her and press gentle lips to her ear. “You did so well. How do you feel?”

She hums and rubs her ass against my slack-covered cock, and we both hiss at the touch, she from the sting left behind from my palm and me from the steel rod in my pants that wants to get inside her. I nip her earlobe in reprimand, and she giggles. Sweet music.

“I’m doing horribly.” She lifts her head slightly and looks back at me. “But in the best way.” She smiles.

I chuckle and adjust her skirt, then help her to stand. “I’ll put some aloe on you tonight, but for now, we need to finish up with Tye and Xander.” I push the hair from her face and cup both her cheeks. “I will do anything and everything to keep you safe. You won’t like some of my tactics, Talia, but I’d rather have you pissed at me than the alternative.”

She lets out a shaky sigh then nods. “Just don’t keep me in the dark, okay? I’ll be able to handle your tactics better if I’m at least kept in the loop.”

I can’t make her that promise. If there’s any point where she’s in danger, and one of my men or I have to make a split-second decision, I can’t take time to discuss it with her, and I tell her as such. “Talia, I will do everything in my power to keep you informed, but if it comes down to a split-second decision between your safety and discussing it with you,” I thread my fingers through her hair and grip it by the roots, “I will choose your safety. Do you understand?”

I see the fight in her eyes. She wants to argue. She wants to verbally lash out, but she knows I won’t back down. My eyes plead with her to let the topic go, and when I see hers soften, I kiss the tip of her nose and release her hair.

“Come on, angel. Let’s go finish up with the guys, then I can take you home and play with you all night.”

“Play with me, huh?” she asks with mock offense.

“All night, angel.”

23

Talia

As soon as we entered my apartment, I grabbed a small suitcase and packed enough clothes for a couple of days. However, my plan to pack light was foiled by Caleb’s disgruntled stare. He wordlessly passed me, grabbed my large gym bag from the top of my closet shelf, and proceeded to stuff the bag full of clothes. When I asked him what he was doing, all I got in return was a grunt and nonsensical words spoken under his breath. So I sat on my bed and watched him stomp around my small loft apartment, pulling pieces of clothing from the hangers, grabbing handfuls of my underwear, and even making sure to grab a variety of shoes.

Once he was satisfied that my entire wardrobe was packed, we headed to his Hellcat and drove to his home on the lake. Coming to a large gate, he pulled out his phone and typed in the code. Pulling through the large, ornate wrought iron gate, I expect to see a towering mansion set upon a large garden or expansive lawn.

Instead, I find an older two-story, gray colonial-style house. Its green shutters, white wrap-around porch, and classic weathervane invite visitors to sit back and kick up their heels while listening to the water lap against the shore. The grass is a vibrant green, and it looks perfect for picnics and reading under the giant oak tree positioned just off the main entrance. Flowers of every color surround the porch and bid goodnight to the setting sun. The entire scene throws me. Caleb Marron does not seem like the type of man that would own a home, so… welcoming.

He pulls into the detached two-car garage and grabs my bag from the trunk. I step out into the autumn air, and he takes my hand as we stroll to the front door. My arm is stretched in front of me as he drags me behind him. I know I’m slowing down our forward momentum, but I can’t help but be in awe of the beautiful simplicity of his home. My eyes attempt to take in everything around me.

“It will look even better in the morning.” He chuckles at my gaping mouth.

“I’m sorry. It’s just not what I expected.”

He stops and turns to face me. “And what exactly were you expecting?”

“Something,” I gesture wildly, “bigger. I don’t know—something more modern. Something with sharp edges and literal moving parts. Like the actual house being alive.” Now that I say the words out loud, it sounds completely ridiculous, and when Caleb lets out a booming laugh, I can’t help but join him.

“Well, angel, my house doesn’t actually move, but there are definitely some technological upgrades. Come on. I’ll show you.”

We reach the front door that looks to be made of smooth wood, but upon closer inspection, is actually made of metal––steel, to be exact. Caleb places my bag on the wood porch and turns his head to give me a smug grin before he splays his fingers out on the window to the right of the door. My brow furrows in confusion, then lifts in amazement when the glass surrounding the tips of his fingers glow red then green. The sound of the door lock disengaging has my jaw dropping and my skin tingling with excitement.

“That is incredible,” I say in wonder.

“It is pretty cool. It’s one of the first pieces of security technology Xander developed when he was hired on at M.H.S. It’s his baby.” We walk into the main entry hall, and Caleb grabs my bag before turning and locking the door the same way he opened it but from the inside.

“He must be a proud papa then. Have you deployed it mainstream? I try to keep up to date on new technology going out, and I haven’t heard a peep about that. And I would remember that.” I point at the glass.

“It’s currently being used in different government facilities, but we haven’t taken it to the civilian markets yet. Unfortunately, it won’t be a system most people can afford. I wish I could make all our systems affordable to everyone, but––”

“Caleb,” I interrupt, “You don’t have to explain. I’m your competitor, remember? Not only do I know that you create the best gizmos and gadgets in the world, but I also know how hard you work to offer security to those less fortunate.” I brush a rogue lock of hair from his forehead. “I know about Guardian Angel,” I state, referring to the M.H.S. silent charity that offers deals for any current or former law enforcement or armed forces member, as well as providing those in low-income housing with a basic security system.

Caleb lets out a heavy sigh and runs a hand through his disheveled locks. “I guess it’s not really a silent charity then, is it?” he grumbles, and I see the fact that I know about his attempt to do good on the sly bothers him.

Wrapping my arms behind his neck, I bring our bodies flush and feel him relax in my hold. “I only know because I have been just a wee bit,” I bring my thumb and forefinger a centimeter apart, “obsessed with you and dug deep to find all I could about all things Caleb Marron.”

With my confession, he gives me a boyish smile. “Obsessed, huh?” He squeezes my ass, and I wiggle in his possessive hold.

“Just a little,” I whisper against his soft lips.

His tongue laves my bottom lip before it slides inside my mouth, and he feasts on my lips. I hum my need, and his answering growl lets me know he hears me loud and clear. “Come on, angel, time to play.”

Streams of sunshine warm my face as I blink my eyes open and take in the magnificent view of the lake outside the floor-to-ceiling glass that makes up the entire back wall of Caleb’s bedroom. While the view is incredible, my eyes are drawn to the beautiful man sitting bare-chested in a deck chair. His feet are propped up on the deck railing, and he’s holding a mug with steam billowing from it.

Lifting to my elbows, I feel every ache and sting from last night. I blush at the memory of the ropes that restrained me face down on his bed as he roamed every inch of me. When he had me overstimulated, I nearly cried in need, but he kept me captive as he drizzled warm wax along my skin. The sting of the resin was a shock to my system, but the crackling sensation as it dried lit my skin on fire.

Running my hand through my hair, I remember the sharp tug on my scalp as he demanded I tell him over and over who I belonged to.

I sit up and place my feet on the plush carpet, and they remind me of the Wartenberg wheel he used on them and how the spikes stung with erotic pain. Finally, lifting my ass from the large sleigh bed, I flinch at the reminder of how he claimed the last piece of me. He was gentle as he got me used to the taboo feeling, and once he was fully seated inside me, I couldn’t hold back my moans. Feeling completely possessed by Caleb is like having every fear I have ever had stripped from me, and glorious light shone brightly on the world in front of me. All thoughts of bloody hearts flee.

I begged him to move. I begged him to take me ruthlessly…and he complied. He took me with brutal thrusts and sharp slaps to my ass. He took me as he praised me for my strength and beauty, and we released together with words of love on our lips.

Grabbing his discarded undershirt from the floor, I slip it over my head and walk over to the wall of glass. However, I’m stopped in my tracks when I can’t figure out how the hell to get outside. I look around to see if I can find a handle or latch but find nothing. When I look back to the window, I find Caleb standing in front of me with a smart-ass grin on his face. Placing my hands on my hips and tilting my head in annoyance, I wait for him to open the damn door.

He tilts his head to mimic mine, then begins to mime mock confusion. Ass.

“Open the damn door,” I demand.

He puts his hand to his ear and shakes his head, signaling that he can’t hear me, and I can’t tell if he’s serious or goofing around. Either way, he’s not getting the better of me. I shrug, then turn to walk away but move back when I see him flailing his arms to catch my attention. I cock an eyebrow at him and cross my arms over my chest, and when he puckers and places his lips on the glass, I can’t help but break into a fit of laughter. I have a feeling this playful side of Caleb rarely comes out, and I feel privileged to be the one who brings it out in him.

Suddenly the glass begins to shift and come together like an accordion, and my laughter ceases. He wasn’t kidding when he told me he added some upgrades. The palm scanner, the windows set to go opaque after sunset, and the refrigerator that audibly reminds him of its contents that he is running low on are just a few of those upgrades.

“Sorry, baby. I couldn’t resist.” He snickers.

Shaking my head, I step onto the deck and look back at the now open wall. “How did you do that? I was searching for a handle or button.”

He lifts his hand to show me the small remote. “It’s just one of the ways to open them. There’s also a panel out here, and on each bedside table, there’s a button.”

I look to the side to see the panel on the wall. There are buttons for the sound system, glass wall, and T.V. Again, I look around and find no television. Looking back at him, I smirk. “Okay, tech nerd, where’s the T.V.?”

He drops his head slightly, and I swear I see him blush. He presses the T.V. button on the panel, and a floor slat on the deck slides underneath another, and a large flatscreen rises.

My mouth drops open, and I step forward to look over the railing to see if I can see the mechanism. “That is so cool.” I know that particular technology isn’t anything new, but for someone like me that doesn’t even own a T.V., it’s awesome to see.

Caleb wraps his arms around my waist and sets his chin on my shoulder. “You think that stuff is cool? Imagine what you and I could do together.”

I’m stunned at his statement and turn in his arms to look into his green eyes that seem to absorb the warm sunshine. “What do you mean?”

He runs a hand up my back to my neck, eliciting a shiver. He cups the nape of my neck and squeezes gently. “I mean that one day I think S.T. and M.H.T. should team up on a project. Your team will have the space exploration experience under their belt, and my team has the military experience. With those two prominent players in our arsenal, there isn’t anything we can’t do.” His eyes glow with excitement, then fade in disappointment when I don’t match his enthusiasm.

“Caleb, I appreciate you investing in the Altair project, but I can’t have M.H.T. sweeping in and taking over at every turn. I want us to stand on our own two feet. S.T. needs to be in the spotlight alone. It’s the only way anyone will take us seriously,” I affirm.

“Altair is yours, Talia. I think I’ve proven that I have no interest in stealing the spotlight,” he snaps. “I’m not suggesting moving forward full force into a partnership––”

“Then what are you saying?” I ask, my hackles beginning to rise, and Caleb’s hand tightens on my nape when he feels my muscles tense.

“I’m saying that down the road, M.H.T. would be honored to collaborate with S.T. on a project. We would bring both our team’s infield expertise and come to an equal opportunity agreement. Talia, I’m not here to take from you, and I don’t make business decisions based on emotion. If you never wish to collaborate, then I will respect that.” He bends slightly to bring himself at eye level with me. “However, I would advise you to not let your pride get in the way of an opportunity that could take S.T. to the next level.”

Everything he’s saying makes sense, and I realize that I have a great teacher in Caleb. As much as I want to soar on my own, I know there will be times that I can use guidance from someone more experienced, and Caleb Marron is the best of the best. That fact used to bother me, but now I see it for what it is—a huge advantage.

Shame coats my cheeks, and I dip my head to the side, but with a twist of his wrist, my eyes are brought back to his. “What? What just happened?”

I stare into his jade eyes and try to put into words how ashamed I feel for thinking––even for a moment––of using him to my advantage. “I don’t want to use you, Caleb. My mind went to how you being in my corner could benefit me, how you could give me an advantage, and I feel sick for even thinking it.”

He huffs out a breath of air and chuckles. His lips meet my temple, and his arms band tightly around my shoulders. “Oh, my sweet angel.” He lays his cheek on my head and sways slightly from side to side. “Use me, beautiful. Use me until there isn’t even a single thought left in my head.”

I lift my eyes back to his, and he smiles back at me. “What? You want me to use you?” I ask suggestively.

“Mmm, in more ways than one.” He brings his lips to my neck, and his beard tickles my sensitive skin.

“Aaah! Stop! Caleb, stop.” I laugh and squirm in his arms, but he keeps up his assault.

“Never. Not when your laugh is my medicine.” When I’m able to pry my arms away from his body, I clasp his head in my hands and yank on his hair, but he just growls and begins to bite at my flesh. “You’re a savage, Miss Stone.”

I squeal as he grabs my ass and keeps tickling me. “Caleb, you ass, stop!” I puff, and he finally relents. I slap his chest playfully, and his smile lights up everything inside me.

“Okay, okay. What were you saying? Oh, yeah. Using me. Yes. Use me.” I open my mouth to argue, but he pinches my lips together before I can utter a word. “I know you, Talia. You’re not some greedy bastard who’s after my work or money. We are competitors, and I won’t be able to share everything with you and vice versa, but I will share what I can. I have only ever partnered with two other competitors, and one was at Scotty’s insistence, but even then, I vetted every last employee all the way down to the janitor. If you and I partnered on a project, I would put S.T. through the same scrutiny. You would not get preferential treatment, and I would expect you to do the same with M.H.T.” He’s saying everything I need to hear, and my body begins to relax. “Now, if we’re done with business talk,” he runs his lips over the raw skin of my neck, “I would really like to bend you over this railing and fuck you. You good with that?”

I tilt my head back to give him better access to my skin. “Mmm. I’m very good with that.”

So he does.

We drive in comfortable silence, and I watch out the window as the scenery zips by. I lean my head back against the Hellcat’s headrest and smile to myself as I remember spending the early morning tangled in the sheets with Caleb. There were no toys, no teasing, no raw, primal screwing, just slow, sweet love making. Closing my eyes, I take in a satisfied breath.

“That sounded like a very content Talia.” Caleb’s smooth voice increases the feeling of peace running through my soul.

“Because I am very content. At least at the moment.” I know there is shit outside this car that will need to be dealt with, and the fact that we’re on our way to Marron House Security headquarters cements that fact. But for just this moment, I’m going to enjoy the peace.

Caleb lifts our entwined hands and kisses my knuckles as he keeps his eyes on the road and his other hand on the wheel. “It will never be perfect, Talia, but we will get through this. Together.”

I turn my head in his direction and squeeze his hand. “I know.”

We pull up to M.H.S. thirty minutes later, and Caleb meets me at my door and helps me from the car. I stare up at the large warehouse-style building and start to get excited. I wonder what cool security gizmos will await us. So, when we approach the front doors, and Caleb opens the glass double door, I frown in disappointment.

“Don’t pout, angel.” He chuckles. “Not everything needs a high-tech system. Clients need to be able to enter without being cavity searched or X-rayed within an inch of their life.” He’s right, of course. After all, M.H.S. is a business, and clients need to enter the building. Still, I am hoping to see something fascinating. “We keep the main area open for client meetings, but there is an underground level that houses our equipment, weapons, and safe rooms. That area is restricted and well guarded. The upper level is used for staff living space.”

“Living space?” I ask.

“There are times a staff member will need to be on-site for an extended period. The small apartments upstairs bring the comfort of home to work. I’ve spent as much as a week here when we first opened.”

“Why would they need to be on-site for so long?” I ask as we walk around a large reception desk, and Caleb quickly greets a petite woman with electric blue hair cut in a sleek bob. She waves at me enthusiastically, and I wave back, already getting the sense that little miss blue hair and I will be fast friends.

“We’ve had times when a situation has gotten volatile, and Xander has stayed to track its progress, or the time zone difference in another country caused us to keep odd hours.”

Caleb ushers me through a labyrinth of halls before we come to a set of red cedar double doors with his name carved into the soft wood and embossed in a gold filament. I point to the carving. “Please tell me that’s not real gold,” I tease, and he laughs as he guides me to the seating area made up of a brown three-seater couch and matching side chairs.

The coffee table is made from the large stump of a tree, and my eyes bug at the thought of how massive that tree had to have been. “No, it’s not real gold, and yes, that’s from a real tree.” My lips tip down in disappointment. I’m not a tree-hugging hippie, but I appreciate nature. I hate the thought that he contributed to cutting down a tree just for a piece of furniture. He lifts my chin, and my eyes meet his. “Don’t worry, angel. The tree was already dead. It was actually harming the habitat of a pair of Lilac Breasted Rollers. Gerry was very particular about sourcing pieces that wouldn’t cause ‘environmental distress’ as she would say.”

“Gerry?”

“Yeah, the blue-haired nymph you saw behind the reception desk,” he jests, and I can see the sweet affection he has for the small woman. “Xander and Tye will be here soon. Jax will be joining us as well.”

At that moment, a tall African-American man walks into the room, and my jaw hits the floor. I instantly know this man is Jaxson Townsend, Caleb’s best friend and business partner. But his photos don’t do him justice.

He towers over Caleb’s six-two height, and he looks like he was carved out of the side of a mountain. His sinewy muscles stretch his deep mocha skin, and veins cord his powerful forearms. I am not a girl who likes a lot of bulky muscle, and Caleb has the most fantastic physique I have ever seen, but whereas Caleb is stacked with lean, solid muscle like an athlete, this man is built like a machine. Layer upon layer of muscle, but not in an unappealing ‘hulk smash’ kind of way, rather in a way that makes women bend over backward just to catch his eye.

When he stops in front of me with a toothy white smile and extends his hand to me, I can’t help but just stand there dumbfounded. “Hi, I’m Jaxson Townsend.” His voice is deep and authoritative but hints at a bit of tentativeness. I don’t speak, and it’s only when I hear a growl emanate from my left that I finally snap out of my stupor.

“Oh, hi,” I squeak, then clear my throat and take his offered hand. “Hi. I’m Talia Stone. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Townsend.”

“Call me Jax, and I know who you are, Miss Stone.” He drops my hand, and his go immediately behind his back. He stands ramrod straight, and it’s then I remember he’s former military, which would explain all the bulk and the air of finely honed discipline that seems to surround his being.

“Oh, well, good. I think? And call me Talia or Tai for short.” I giggle, which is a mistake when I can already feel the possessiveness oozing off of Caleb.

“If you two are done flirting with each other, can we begin this meeting?”

I turn at Caleb’s gruff tone and look around the room. “I thought you said we were waiting for Tye and Xander?”

Caleb’s cheeks flush at his misstep, but instead of admitting his jealousy, he walks to his desk and mumbles, “They’re on their way up.” I don’t want to be that girl, but his pouty behavior at my possible attraction to Jax kinda does it for me.

Deciding to put him out of his misery, I turn to Jax. “Jax, could you give us a moment? I need to speak with Caleb privately.” He nods and heads to the door, a knowing smirk on his face.

I walk over to where Caleb stands, pretending to shuffle the papers on his desk. Wedging my way between him and his desk, I wrap my arms around the back of his neck and wait for him to look at me. Finally, when his eyes lift to mine, I see jealousy and vulnerability battling in that brilliant mind of his. He’s never been jealous before. He’s never had cause to be. Women throw themselves at him daily, but none of them have his full attention, or more importantly, his heart. Just me. And for that reason, I snuggle into his chest and squeeze him to me.

“I’m sorry.” Though I have no interest in Jax sexually, the way I acted reflected otherwise, and that’s on me.

He sighs into my hair, and I feel the tension in his body release. “I can’t believe I’m fucking jealous of my best friend––the man that saved my life.”

“Well, I didn’t help much with my gawking,” I admit shamefully.

“No, you didn’t,” he confirms, and his words sting, but I accept them. He lifts my head from his chest with a gentle but stern pinch of my chin, and his jade eyes stare into me. “Talia, I’m doing my best here, but I can’t tolerate another man garnering that type of attention from you. Not you.”

I grasp his wrist and put my whole heart into my words. “Caleb, I swear to you that I have no interest in Jax. He has quite a presence, you have to admit. I was just thrown off. Besides,” I lean forward to brush my lips against his, “he saved the life of the man I love. I can’t help but admire him for that.” His eyes soften at my words, and he releases my chin to take my lips with feather-soft kisses and just a whisper of tongue.

“Say it again,” he whispers into my mouth, and I don’t need him to clarify.

“I love you.”

“Mmmm. I never knew those words could get me so hot.” He grinds his pelvis against my stomach, and I can feel his impressive erection.

I chuckle against his lips. “You probably have three guys out there waiting, and you’re sporting quite a problem there, Mr. Marron.” I run a finger over his denim-covered cock, and he hisses at my touch. “And I better be the only one getting you hot with those words.”

“Possessive much, Miss Stone?” He grabs my ass and lifts me slightly, causing the front of my jeans to rub against his hardness, the seam of my pants stimulating my clit. I moan and lean my head back as he sucks on the tender flesh of my neck.

“Yes. Very possessive.” I sigh.

“Don’t worry, angel. You’re the only woman who can demolish every fucking defense I’ve built with just those three words.” His lips trail back to mine, searing them in a heated kiss. Tongues war, teeth nip, and bodies heat, but a timid knock has us reluctantly pulling away. “More later, angel.” He gives me one last quick peck before he heads for the door.

All three men stand on the other side talking amongst themselves, but Gerry stands in the doorway, hands on her petite hips with a cocked eyebrow. “Do it on your own time,” she chides before sending me a knowing wink and walking away.

My cheeks heat in embarrassment, and Caleb just laughs at her sassiness. “Come in, guys, we’re done,” he looks back at me, “for now.” He gives me a cocky smile, and I roll my eyes.

As expected, Xander didn’t find a single print on the box or its contents, but we all knew who it came from, so it doesn’t matter much. When it comes to the heart itself? Xander had it sent for DNA processing, and he expects to have the results by Monday.

After the forensic side of things are discussed, we move on to security. Tye will remain my shadow when Caleb is not with me, and Jax has one of his other recruits staking out my apartment, hoping that Wyatt will show. I remind them that Wyatt has been watching me––and Caleb–– and would likely know I’m not going to the apartment. Therefore I should make an appearance to try and draw him out. My idea is met with a deep masculine growl from Caleb and resounding NOs from the other three men. I am not sure how they expect to draw him out when what he wants is guarded better than the Queen of England, but Caleb assures me that he will keep me informed once a plan is in place.

Though the box yields no clues, Xander’s research as to how Wyatt was released from prison came back with disturbing information. Apparently, Wyatt made a very wealthy and influential friend while he was in prison. Viktor Morozov was one of three bastard sons of the notorious and brutal Russian Bratva leader, Alexander Morozov. Viktor was twelve when his father was killed in a shoot-out twenty years ago. He was raised by his mother until she died of cancer when he was sixteen. Instead of being put into the foster system, Viktor was embraced by his father’s organization and raised to follow in his footsteps. Viktor officially took over his father’s operation when he turned twenty-one. We still don’t know how Wyatt caught Morozov’s eye, but if he helped get Wyatt out, we can only assume Wyatt is now working for Viktor.

I ponder these new pieces of information as Caleb drives us away from the M.H.S. building. Wyatt is insane all on his own, but add the backing of a Russian mob boss? Let’s just say I’m not arguing with Caleb’s overprotectiveness. M.H.S. is the best in Texas, and I am relieved that I have them on my side.

Caleb lifts my hand and places it on his thigh, squeezing gently. “Angel, try not to worry. My team will not stop until we find this bastard.”

“I know. It’s just Wyatt is volatile without having a crime lord backing him. I’m terrified of what he can do with access to unlimited resources.” I cast my eyes to the passenger side window, watching as people meander about their day, never having to concern themselves with psychotic exes or Russian Bratva bosses.

“Baby, look at me.” I turn my eyes back to Caleb, and he gives me an encouraging smile. “I have unlimited resources, money, and a damn good team backing me.”

“I understand that, Caleb, and I trust you and your team, but the one thing he has on you is that he doesn’t care if he breaks the law. He doesn’t care if he has to kill someone to get to me.”

He tilts his neck side to side as though trying to loosen a knot in his neck. The hand on the wheel white knuckles, and I can feel the dangerous energy coming from him. I’m about to ask him what’s wrong when he speaks, “Talia, M.H.S. has worked for some of the most well-known and wealthiest people in the world. Celebrities, senators, foreign diplomats and so on.”

Shrugging a shoulder, I ask, “What’s your point?”

Sighing heavily, he lets go of my hand and grips the steering wheel with both hands. “My point is my guys have had to take a life to save another.” He glances at me briefly before bringing his eyes back to the road. “Angel, when we have to protect someone, it means with our life, and sometimes it means to protect that person we’ve had no choice but to take a life. My team nor I will hesitate to kill anyone that presents a threat to our client,” he says, a threat evident in his voice.

I know I should be disturbed by his words, but I’m not. Instead, I lay my hand back on his thigh, and he takes it, immediately relaxing at my touch. “So, since I’m stuck with you for a while,” I smirk, “what are our plans for tonight?”

“Stuck, huh?” I nod and give him a wide grin that he returns with his own. “Well, since you’re stuck with me, I guess you can’t run when I tell you we’re headed over to my parent’s house for a barbeque.”

“What?” I squeak.

“Relax, angel. My parents are the most welcoming people in the world. I already told them you were coming.”

“Oh, God. They probably think I’m some gold-digging hussy. Caleb, you should have warned me.” I release his hand and run my fingers through my hair. I bite the inside of my lip and begin to wonder if I can safely jump from the car at these speeds.

“Talia, calm down. My parents are not like that. They trust us to make our own decisions, even if they don’t completely agree with them.”

“So, they don’t agree?” I ask, the pit in my stomach widening.

“I didn’t say that. Look, my parents know about you. They know who you are. They know S.T. and M.H.T. are working together, and more importantly, they know how I feel about you.” His last statement is spoken with a tenderness that has my heart melting and tears stinging the back of my eyes.

I fidget with the bottom seam of my shirt. “And they’re really okay with that?”

He grasps my busy hand and brings it to his pillow-soft lips. “Yes. They’re really okay with it. But Talia, it wouldn’t matter to me if they were or not. I respect my parents, but their opinions do not drive my decisions,” he says with finality.

We don’t speak another word as we listen to Caleb’s classic rock playlist, and I try to prepare to meet the woman who survived being abducted and who knows what else. Alexis Marron was a role model for any woman, so the fact that I will be sitting at the same table as her is a bit intimidating.

We pull up to a two-story white brick home, and before I can exit the car, Caleb turns to me. “I didn’t tell them about Wyatt. I trust my parents with my life, but I keep M.H.S. information amongst the team. There are times I have asked my father or uncle to pull some strings, but unless I need their connections, I leave my work at the door.”

I nod in understanding. “I won’t say anything.”

He leans in and brushes a kiss across my lips before he brings them to my temple. “They’re going to love you.” My eyes drift close at his encouraging words, and I let out a cleansing breath. He pulls back, and the look on his face is one of a cat who caught the canary. “The only one you have to worry about is Lizzy,” he says before quickly exiting the car, and I’m jumping out to catch up to him. He laughs at my concerned look and clutches me to him. His hard chest presses against my breasts, and his eyes glow a neon green at our connected bodies.

“Why do I need to worry about your sister?”

He kisses the tip of my nose, then walks to the front door. “You’ll see.” He knocks once, then walks in.

The entry is bright and airy, and a cool cross breeze blows through the open concept dining room. Caleb escorts me to the living room that consists of a large grey sectional sofa, various tables made of wood and iron, and a massive T.V. But what catches my eye are the array of family photos. A photo of a young Caleb sits on a table by the window, and next to it is a photo of a little girl with beautiful blonde pigtails and a smile that screams, “Are we done yet?” Ah, the infamous Lizzy.

“She’s a pain in the ass, but she is a kick-ass cop…Well, she was.” At my look of confusion, he explains, “Her captain put her on leave after she tasered a perp in the balls, so she quit the force, and I hired her on at M.H.S. Well, Jax technically hired her.” Clamping my lips between my teeth, I try to smother a laugh. “Go ahead. You can laugh. The guy was beating on his girlfriend. He deserved it.” He winces at the mention of abuse, but the image of this sweet little blonde tasering some big burly guy in the balls has me clutching my stomach and laughing until tears stream down my cheeks and Caleb follows suit.

When our fits of laughter are interrupted by a deep chuckle, I turn to see Pierce Marron standing at the back door wearing an apron that reads, “NERD? I prefer Intellectual BADASS.”

Caleb envelops his father in a hug, and Mr. Marron places his forehead against his son’s, and the physical endearment has my heart aching. I never knew my father, and my mother wasn’t exactly the affectionate type. Michael and I have our sibling bond, but this is different. Something I will never have.

I pull away from my melancholy thoughts when Mr. Marron walks over to me and crushes me to him in a warm hug. He must be creeping toward his sixties, but damn, you would never know it. The guy is built like a brick shit house. And his aqua eyes haven’t dulled with age. Mr. Marron is hot!

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Talia. Caleb has told us a lot about you.”

“Oh? Well, make sure you only remember the good parts.” I giggle.

He chuckles along with me. “Even when he considered you an enemy, his mother and I could see there was something else there. Besides, you’ve shown my son the error of his manwhoring ways, so you’re good in my book.” He winks, and my cheeks flush.

“Okay, old man. I think the steaks are burning,” Caleb says, clearly uncomfortable. Mr. Marron gives me one last smirk before he heads outside. Caleb stands at the door with his hands in his pockets and a sheepish look on his face.

I walk over to him and grip his shirt in my fist. “So, you talked about me even when you didn’t like me?”

He shrugs like a little boy who just got caught passing love letters in class. “I may have been frustrated with the fact that I wanted to hate you but couldn’t seem to commit to the feeling. Other than Jax, my parents are my confidantes. The ones I spill my troubles to. I––”

I place my fingers against his lips. “I’m glad you have so many people who are there for you. People who will love you no matter what you say or do. You have a rare gift in your family.”

He brushes my heavy locks from my shoulder, then strokes the pulse of my neck. “And now you’re part of that family, Talia Stone.” I gasp at his declaration, and tears gather in my eyes. His lips come down softly on mine. “Come on. There are more people to introduce you to.”

I dab under my eyes as he guides me outside, and my eyes widen when I see Mr. and Mrs. Marron locked in an intimate embrace. His hands are pressed into the small of her back, and his lips are at her ear. Mrs. Marron’s cheeks are flushed a bright pink, and her hands clutch at his apron. When he pulls away, the look in his eyes is so intense I have to look away, but not before I hear Mrs. Marron responding with a “Yes, Sir.” He kisses her blushing cheek, then releases her.

She turns toward Caleb and me, and the sexual fog seems to lift instantly. Her smile is radiant and what I would imagine a proud mother would display. “Caleb. How are you, sweetie?” She takes him in her arms. Though curvy in all the right places, Mrs. Marron is tiny compared to her six-foot-two son, and she barely reaches the bottom of his chin as they embrace.

“I’m good, Mom. How have you been? Everything going well with the houses?”

“It’s going well. I hate that we even need such a thing, but I’m glad we can have them available to those we rescue,” she says, referring to the two safe houses she and Lucy Brakin founded for human trafficking victims.

“It’s a reality in our world, unfortunately, but I’m proud of you, Mom.” I see tears well in her eyes at her son’s evident admiration. She doesn’t speak. Instead, she cups his cheeks and gives him a broad smile before turning that smile toward me.

“And you must be Talia. I am so happy to finally meet you,” she hugs me close as she speaks, “Lucy told me she met you at the gala. She couldn’t make the barbeque.” I feel the color drain from my face. What did Lucy say? Did she portray me as a money-hungry floozy? A woman soiling her charity event by trying to get the shares from her?

“She told me how beautiful you were and sharp as a tack. She definitely sang your praises,” Mrs. Marron clarifies. I let out the breath I am holding and wipe my clammy hands on my jeans.

“That was nice of her. I feel the same about her… both of you, actually. I admire everything you two have done and look forward to Stone Technologies being a big part of the solution.” Does that sound like a line? Am I talking too much “business”? Shit, I’m blowing this.

“That would be incredible! Having a powerhouse female like you helping would be a massive middle finger to all the men and women who help fuel that disgusting industry.” She speaks with such passion that I feel like I am already part of her warrior tribe about to head into battle.

“You two powerhouses can plan your battle plan later. I want to show off my girl,” Caleb breaks in, and Mrs. Marron rolls her eyes at her son and steps next to her husband.

Caleb introduces me to his Uncle Kyle and Aunt Lacey, then his Aunt Rebecca. When we approach Rebecca’s son, Scotty, I get a bit star-struck. Not only does this man write the best short stories I have ever read, but he does numerous TED talks about his work and life, putting many hurtful stereotypes about people with autism to rest.

“And this young man is the one and only Scotty Delaney: fantasy writer and gamer extraordinaire.” Scotty’s cheeks heat in embarrassment, and I extend my hand to him.

“Hello, Mr. Delaney. I’m a big fan of your work.” Scotty’s eyes bug, and he looks at Caleb as if to say, “Are you kidding me?” Caleb responds by waggling his head from side to side as to say, “You are the man.”

Scotty looks back at me with a toothy grin. “Someone pretty like you reads my stories?” I can’t help but bite my lip at his sweet question, but before I can speak, arms wrapped in black leather band around Scotty’s shoulders, and he instantly starts laughing.

“What kind of question is that? I read your stories. Am I not pretty?” The feminine voice teases, and Scotty swoops down quick as a cobra and scoops her legs out from under her. Catching her in his arms, he places her gently on the ground when she ruffles his hair.

“You’re my cousin. I can’t say you’re pretty. That’s gross.” He runs fingers through his floppy brown hair, now pulled from the tie holding it at bay.

“He’s got you there, Liz. It is pretty gross,” Caleb agrees.

Lizzy turns to her brother, and with the skill of a seasoned cop, puts him in a chokehold. “Ah, come on, big bro. You know I’m absolutely gorgeous.” She plants a loud, sloppy kiss on his bearded cheek before releasing him then turning to me. Caleb uses his shirt collar to wipe away the wet kiss, and I can’t help but laugh at him as he turns into a little boy annoyed by his little sister.

“Yeah, you’re a real classy lady there, Liz.”

Her eyes never leave me as she addresses his sarcasm. “I never said classy. I said gorgeous. Geez, get it right. Hey, I’m Lizzy. You’re Talia, right?”

“I am.” She doesn’t embrace me or extend her hand for a handshake, but oddly enough, it doesn’t seem like a slight. More like it is just part of her personality. She doesn’t seem like someone to waste words or niceties. Straight to the point.

“Okay, so here we go. I used to be a cop, so I know how to hide a body. I have security clearance to the M.H.S. weapon arsenal––”

“Liiiiiz,” Caleb warns.

“Wait. I have to finish. So if you hurt my brother, I will kill you.” If she hadn’t said each threat as though she is simply checking off items on a grocery list, I might actually be worried. “Now that my sisterly duties are done, I can tell you all his dirty little secrets.” She interlocks my arm with hers, then drags me over to the wooden picnic table where she proceeds to tell me how a young Caleb would put underwear on his head and play a recorder through his nose.

The golden rays of sunshine give way to the glowing moon, but we still sit and talk and laugh. Both Mr. and Mrs. Marron have insisted I call them by their first names. Lizzy has kept us entertained with stories of the jokes the officers would play on each other throughout her time as a Dallas cop. Alexis goes further in-depth with me on what areas of Furious Hope and Unyielding still need help.

Now, Scotty is reading one of his short stories while the sounds of coyotes and loons call out from the wildlife preserve across from the Marron home.

I’m snuggled in Caleb’s arms as Scotty takes us away on dragon wings to a faraway land to find the lost princess. The only one who can save the kingdom. I feel Caleb’s phone vibrate in his pocket, and I lean forward just enough for his hand to reach in and grab it. He reads the message, then I hear him curse softly behind me.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper.

“Jax wants us to meet him at my place. He was supposed to come tonight, but he was following a lead.” He shoves his phone back in his pocket.

“Why can’t he just come here?” I ask.

“He said it’s not something he wants to discuss in front of a crowd. Which means––”

“It’s not good news,” I finish, and he nods.

Standing, he helps me to my feet, then he quietly tells his parents we have to leave. When they don’t ask questions, and Caleb and his father share a wordless conversation with just a look and a nod, I know they get it.

We walk quickly out of the house, and once we’re in the car, Caleb wastes no time getting us to his place and secured behind the heavy iron gate.

We approach the living room where Jax stands facing the lake, hands behind his back, his back straight as an arrow. He turns when he hears us approach, and the scowl on his face has my heart racing with fear.

“I’m assuming you two haven’t seen the news?” At our questioning looks, he picks up a tablet from the side table and hits the icon for a local news station. When the anchor is done speaking, a well-known field reporter stands in front of a burning building and begins his report.

“At eight-thirty-three this evening, 911 dispatchers received a call from a resident at the Desert Oasis apartments in Fort Worth about smoke coming from one of the units.” I gasp. “When firefighters arrived on the scene, there didn’t seem to be an active fire, but when they approached the apartment in question, it exploded.”

“Oh my God! No! No, no, no.” I didn’t need the reporter to say what unit it was. Fear and guilt slam into me at the thought of people getting hurt because of me. Caleb bands his arms around me, and I bury my head in his chest.

“The units surrounding the apartment had been evacuated before fire personnel arrived. Unfortunately, two firefighters are confirmed dead, and two others are seriously injured. The Fort Worth bomb squad is now on-site––” The reporter’s voice suddenly cuts off, and the only sound in the room is that of my sobs.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if your dad and uncle already got a call.” At that moment, Caleb’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

Without releasing me from the safety of his arms, he answers his phone, putting it on speaker. “Hey, Dad.”

“Where are you?” The soft, fatherly tone from earlier is gone, replaced with an authoritative cadence.

“We’re at my place––”

“Is Talia with you?” Pierce interrupts, genuine concern in his voice, and it has me sobbing harder.

“Yes, she’s with me. Jax just showed us the footage. I’m going to assume you can confirm it’s her apartment.”

“Yes, it was. Now can I assume you’re going to tell me absolutely everything that’s going on?” Pierce challenges.

“Typically, I would say no,” he lifts my head from his chest, “but when it concerns the woman I love, I’ll take all the help I can get.” His eyes are wet and filled with fury.

“Good. I’ll meet you at M.H.S. headquarters tomorrow at ten. Let’s catch this bastard, so you and Talia can live your life in peace. Together.”

“I plan on it.” With that, he disconnects the call, and when I hear the door shut, I know we’re alone.

Our eyes never leave one another’s, and when he cups my cheek, I nuzzle his palm. “This is not your fault,” he says, reading my mind. “You did not ask that maniac to come after you.”

“I know, but––”

“No buts. You are not to blame, Talia.” He bends at the knee to get eye level with me. “I will not let that fucker get to you. We will stop him.”

I brush my fingers along the coarse hair of his beard and give him a sad smile. “I know.”

And I decide it’s true. I trust Caleb, I trust his team, and I trust that even if I have to use myself as bait, I will stop this monster once and for all.

23

Caleb

The meeting with my father is, to say the least, enlightening. When I tell him about Wyatt, he stands stoic and attentive, but as soon as the name Viktor Morozov is mentioned, both he, my mother, and Kyle stand at attention. That’s when––after twenty years––they give me the details about how they rescued my mother and that it was Reed Ellison who shot and killed Viktor’s father after he abducted my mother from the Halloween gala. Lizzy and I stand there with stunned expressions on our faces. We thought my father and uncle rescued her from the gala for most of our lives. I want to be pissed, but I can’t really fault them for giving us the cliff notes. After all, we were just kids at the time.

As the days pass, I send out some of my best guys to scour the streets for any whispers of a new “boss” moving into town. Along with ex-military, I have men ranging from former FBI, CIA, and others whose classifications… Let’s just say they did some shit for some very important people. I have Xander searching the dark web for any chatter about the bombing or anything related to Viktor Morozov or Wyatt Hudson.

I’m not idiot enough to think these bastards will blatantly use names or details, but Xander has skills that blow even my mind. He’s the man that can find a needle in a pile of needles. He’s the type of guy that I don’t question how he knows certain things. I just thank God he’s on my side.

Jax keeps communication going between M.H.S. and my uncle and father. And though I want to be in the thick of everything going on, I am told on numerous occasions to leave it to my team and focus on Talia and M.H.T.

With each passing day, I get more and more frustrated, only to thank my lucky stars each night that I get to pick Talia up and take her home with me. We’ve made love most nights, and the nights she seems overly anxious or off in her own thoughts, I bring her back to me the only way I know how.

“Be still, angel. That rope will bite,” I warn, my voice husky with lust.

Lately, she’s been in a shitty mood and purposely pushing my buttons. Not only is the fear and lack of movement in the Wyatt department getting to her, but Raymond Embers from NASA is dragging his feet on the Altair 1 project––ultimately costing Stone Technologies money. I offered to get involved, but Talia insists I stay a silent partner and let her and Michael handle things.

Michael Saunders and I may have had a rough start, and I admit I had been jealous of their bond, but when he came to my house the day after the bombing, demanding to be let in to see her, my respect for the guy grew. As soon as I opened the door, he rushed past me and enveloped my girl in a fierce hug. I gave them time to talk, and when he went to leave, he pulled me aside and––not so subtly––informed me that he had some contacts that were… on the shadier side of the law, so if I needed anything to let him know. I just slapped him on the back and thanked him. I will do my best to keep everything above board, but if it comes down to it and I have to use his contacts, I won’t hesitate.

Talia’s muffled moans compete with the low strings of an orchestra version of “Zombie” by the Cranberries. The ball gag is her punishment for telling me to “go to hell” when I committed the carnal sin of asking if it was her time of the month. I couldn’t help myself. I grew up with a sister that becomes a raging psycho during her time, and the question slipped from my lips before I had time to process my stupidity.

But it doesn’t matter that it is my fault or that she has every right to tell me to fuck off. I know what my angel needs. She needs to be centered, to be taken out of her own head. She needs me to free her mind of worry and have her focusing on her pleasure. She needs to be worshiped.

After our little tiff on the phone, I picked her up from her office and immediately headed to Translucent. I walked into one of the rooms we had yet to use and turned her toward the large window. On the other side sits a long leather couch, and that is it. The room is used by those who like to watch. Sometimes they come alone and pleasure themselves, but they often bring a partner and enjoy the show together. Typically, I won’t share an ounce of Talia’s body or moments of carnal pleasure with anyone, but tonight she needs something to jar her. Something to send the fear of the unknown from her mind.

As soon as Talia realizes what will be happening, her breathing escalates, and a sheen of sweat coats her brow. My girl is a closet exhibitionist, and I will fulfill a fantasy she will never openly ask for.

Moments after we enter our room, a tall, heavily muscled man walks into the observation room, his petite, brunette submissive following behind. He holds the loop of a leash in his hand that trails to connect to a thick leather collar at his sub’s throat. Both are bare from the waist up.

The man sits on the leather couch; his knees open wide as his submissive sits at his feet. The girl’s head lay on his knee as he pets her tenderly. Talia’s eyes are locked on the couple, and when the brawny man gives a slight nod, Talia’s eyes drop, and her cheeks pink.

I make her strip for the couple as I gather everything we will need for our time together. Her hands shake as she undresses, and every time she catches her lip in her teeth, she receives a swat from the flogger. Tonight, I will not tolerate any disobedience. That includes her possibly hurting those soft, plump lips of hers.

Once the last piece of her clothing hits the floor, I am behind her, my bare chest against her back. I make her keep her eyes on the couple as I stroke her pebbled nipples. She watches as my worship of her body makes the submissive squirm at her master’s feet. And when my hand reaches her soaking wet center, her eyes shut, and she receives a hard smack on her pert ass for the offense.

Now I have her wrists tied to her calves with a boola boola knot, and the spreader bar attached to her ankles has her thighs spread wide open, her pink pussy on display and dripping with her honey.

“Now, angel, if I remove the gag, are you going to be good and speak to me with respect?” I twist the butt plug currently seated deep in her ass. She throws her head back and screams around the gag. “Tsk tsk. That’s not an answer. Now, I ask again,” I twist the plug again, “are you going to be good?” She takes a deep breath, then nods. I remove the gag, and she immediately begins moving her jaw from side to side. Gently, I massage the joints on either side of her mouth, then kiss her dry lips. “Good, girl.”

She gives me a sweet smile, and my chest warms with the immense love I have for this creature before me. She’s a hard-as-nails businesswoman who has struggled her entire life, and when others would be crushed under the circumstances, she rises to the occasion and battles her demons. She is one of the strongest women I know. She gives herself to me, even after her horrific history with the opposite sex. I will never take the gift of her love or trust for granted.

Bringing my hand to her throat, I squeeze lightly and relish the gasp that emanates from her lips. I learned the day she received the dreaded heart box in her office that my angel enjoys breath play. With this particular form of BDSM, I have to be extremely careful and know what I’m doing. Otherwise, I could severely hurt or even kill my partner. I am experienced in this type of play and only ever use my hand to restrict the breaths. I use my touch as a way to tell me when enough is enough. Safe words aren’t enough when doing breath play. We have a safe gesture. Talia will puff her cheeks out and hold it if she is feeling uncomfortable or scared.

My grip on her throat isn’t tight enough to restrict, but merely a warning. She nods her understanding. My hand drifts down her throat to her collarbone, between her breasts, finally reaching the chain that connects to the clamps secured to her taut nipples.

I give the chain a quick tug, and Talia’s back arches off the bed, the ropes restricting her movements. I give her thigh a stinging slap, and she stills immediately. “I told you to be still,” I growl as I tug on the chain again. This time she just moans and twists her head to the side. I turn to look in the same direction and see the submissive who once sat at her master’s feet is now deep throating him as his eyes stay locked on Talia.

A beastly part of me wants to rage and beat the guy to a bloody pulp, but another part makes me want to puff out my chest in pride for having such an incredibly strong and beautiful woman under my control. One that loves me so profoundly and trusts me with every piece of her.

Climbing over her, I straddle her hips and bring my lips to her ear. “Is he turning you on, baby? Is it his dick you want in your mouth?” I know I’m being an asshole, but I want to hear her say no. I want her to tell me she wants me.

Her head swings back in my direction, and her eyes latch onto mine. “No, he’s not. I see your cock in my mouth when I see them. I see myself at your feet. Please, Caleb, use me.”

Fuck, her words bring about the beast inside me, and I crush my mouth to hers as I give the chain a swift yank. Her screams are swallowed by my mouth, and I bite her bottom lip, the metallic taste of her life force conjuring a growl from my chest. I pull away to see her eyes closed, and she licks the tiny drop of blood from her lip.

“Talia, tonight’s release is going to be intense––borderline painful. But stay with me, and I promise it will be a cleansing like you have never felt before,” I say, petting her hair in reassurance.

She nods. “I trust you,” she whispers, and the sting behind my eyes has me clenching my eyes shut. I swiftly stand and reach over to the bedside table, and I pick up the small black remote. I place a hand on her abdomen, and without warning, I click the first button. Her back immediately tries to arch, but my hand keeps her in place as the butt plug vibrates inside her.

“Caleb!” she cries.

I switch it off, slap the lips of her pussy, then pet the offending area. The moment her body relaxes into my touch, I bring my hand back to her stomach and quickly jump the dial to three. She grunts and arches her neck this time rather than her back. Good girl.

I let the plug vibrate inside her until I see tears run down her temples. “How are you doing, angel?”

She sniffles, and more tears fall, but I know they’re not tears of sadness. Her adrenaline is spiking, and her senses are on overload. “I’m good.” Her voice quivers.

This time when I switch the plug to four, I simultaneously pull on the chain. Talia’s husky growl echoes through the room, and I look back to the window to see the man plowing into his submissive ass, again his eyes locked on Talia. I turn back to her with a satisfied grin. I don’t stop the plug this time. “Look at them, baby. Look at what you’re doing to him.” She turns her head, but her eyes are barely open as the plug pulses in her ass. Suddenly her body locks up, and she cries out with her orgasm.

The sight has me ripping my pants and boxer briefs down my legs and grasping my aching cock. My grip is harsh as I try to hold off my own release.

“Please, Caleb. It’s not enough. I need more. Please, I need you,” she sobs. I turn off the plug, then grab the cock ring from the side table. With a hiss, I drag it up my length to the base of my cock and climb between her legs.

I kiss her gently, then whisper against her lips. “Hold on, baby. This is going to be hard and quick.” I plunge into her tight cavern, and the harsh intrusion has her mouth opening in a silent scream. I draw back out to my tip, then piston back in on a deep groan. When I feel my body begin to tremble with the need to release, I pump my hips, driving my length harder and deeper.

When I feel her tighten around me, I reach between us and flip the switch on the cock ring and flinch at the sudden vibration. Talia squirms beneath me, trying to escape the intense sensation of my cock now becoming a vibrator. I huff out a harsh breath as I feel my balls draw up and my spine tingles, but before I let go, I want her screaming my name.

I switch on the plug and turn it to four. “NO!! Too much! It’s too much!” she shrieks, and I grunt in agreement.

I bury my face in her neck and keep up my brutal thrusts. “Do you need to use your safe word? Say it, and it stops.”

I give her a moment to call out her safe word, but when she doesn’t speak, I jerk the chain on her clamped nipples, and with the blood rushing back to the swollen peaks, she explodes.

“CALEB!” Music to my ears.

I give one final pump of my cock then I’m coming, emptying every piece of my being into this goddess beneath me. My vision blurs, and my hearing goes static as wave after wave of euphoria is dumped into my veins. Reaching between us, I quickly switch off the cock ring, then hit the button for the plug.

Once I’ve gathered enough air to clear my vision, I lift my head and see Talia’s eyes are wide open, and she seems to be in a trance. Subspace. She’s deep in right now, and I need to bring her back slowly. I pull myself from her warm center before kissing her temple and whispering words of love and gratitude in her ear.

“Talia, baby, I’m going to remove the plug.” She doesn’t respond, but I don’t expect her to. I remove the plug slowly and discard it in the basket for cleaning. I do the same with the ring and clamps, then head to the bathroom to prepare a warm wet rag to clean her.

As I walk back to the bed, I see the room on the other side of the window is dark now. I run the rag between her folds and thighs, and for a split second, I mourn having to remove my mark from her. “Talia, I’m going to untie you. I need you to stay still and let me work. Okay?” I make sure to keep my tone tender but authoritative.

When I see the slightest shift in her eyes, then her blink rapidly, I begin untying her. Once the rope is discarded, I start the process of massaging her wrists, thighs, and ankles. Slowly, I see her come out of subspace, and then she’s sobbing. I crawl in bed next to her and let her cling to me as she lets everything out.

When her sobs are silent, and I feel her steady breaths against my chest, I know she’s asleep. As my own eyes drift shut, I think of the treasure in my arms, but the thoughts soon twist and turn with all the ways I will torture Wyatt Hudson when I find him.

24

Talia

“I think I’m going to make the next warrior look like you, Tai,” Scotty says, his words resolute.

“Really? I get to be in one of your stories?” Clapping my hands in excitement, I stand and engulf him in a big hug.

“Okay, okay. It’s no big deal.” Scotty blushes, and I just smirk as I sit back down at our table overlooking downtown Dallas. Tye––my shadow––never too far from my side, sits at the table next to us.

Over the past few days, Scotty and I have spent more time together, and not just when Caleb is around. It started when Scotty called me one day and asked me out to lunch, and after being needled by Caleb about Scotty trying to take his girl, I said yes. We spent the time going over the plot of his next short story and laughing about the trouble he and Lizzy used to get into as kids. Scotty is an amazing man who doesn’t let his autism define him. He lives a full life and opens his mind to everyone around the world with his stories.

“Well, it is a big deal to me, Scotty, so don’t go making light of it,” I chide and twist the small diamond at my throat.

I told Caleb I didn’t need him to buy me gifts, but he insisted and demanded I wear the necklace at all times. Later, I found out it wasn’t just any diamond, but one implanted with a GPS tracker. I teased Caleb mercifully about being a nerd and paid the price that night with five swats from a cane, then a round of orgasms that had me begging for mercy.

“I think I’m going to make her born from the sun. You know ‘cause your hair is so yellow, and…” I continue to listen as I pick up my vibrating phone. But my attention is stolen when I open the text. Icy chills race across my skin as sweat beads along my brow. My hands begin to shake, and I can’t seem to gather enough breath as I stare at a photo of Scotty walking from his apartment, a single red dot on his forehead, but it’s the text that has my heart stilling in my chest.

[Unknown: If you don’t want your friend with a bullet through his head, then get to the restaurant’s back exit. You have 5 minutes.]

Adrenaline begins to pump through my veins, and all I can think about is running to that exit and getting Scotty to safety.

“Talia, are you paying attention?”

I look up and see the look of concern on Scotty’s face. “Yes, I’m sorry. I just need to use the lady’s room.” My voice wobbles. I turn to Tye. “Stay with him, please. I don’t want him out here alone.”

“Not going to happen, Miss Stone. I am to be by your side at all times. Come on, Scotty.” Tye stands and buttons his suit jacket.

“Right. We have to keep you safe, Talia.” Scotty puffs out his chest. Scotty is one of the many people who have taken it upon themselves to watch over me, and though I’m grateful, I have no idea how I’m going to get away from these two.

Thankfully, Scotty’s phone rings, and he steps inside and off to the side to take the call. Tye tells him to wait there, then escorts me to the bathroom. He searches the bathroom––to a group of women’s dismay––and once he has given the all-clear, I enter. When the door shuts, the air around me thickens with urgency, and my brain runs through every possible way to get past Tye. Then it hits me.

I open the door slightly and bite my lip when Tye looks my way. “Everything okay?”

“Umm, not really. I… I started my period, and I don’t have any… products.” I cringe.

Like the man that Tye is, his eyes go wide, and he suddenly seems like a lost little boy. “What…” He clears his throat. “What are you going to do?”

“Actually, I need you to either go grab me something from the drug store down the block––”

“Not happening. I’m not leaving,” he interrupts.

“Or I need you to speak with the manager and see if she can ask one of her female employees for help. I come here all the time, so they know me.”

I can see he’s conflicted, and I feel bad for the guy, but I have to get him away from the bathroom. “Okay, but stay here. I’m serious, Talia. Do not leave that bathroom.”

“I’ll be right here,” I promise and try not to wince at my lie. Tye nods and heads off in search of the manager. I quickly exit the bathroom but stop short when what I’m about to do hits me. I’m about to hand myself over to a man that will surely beat and most likely rape me. But the alternative is Scotty getting hurt or worse.

I fiddle with the diamond on my neck. As long as I have it, Caleb will find me. Until Wyatt finds out who it’s from and rips it from your neck. Shit. I don’t have time for this. I know what I have to do. I remove the necklace and slide the diamond from the silver chain without hesitation. With a silent prayer and one last look at the gleaming gem, I place it on my tongue and swallow. The diamond scratches my esophagus as it slides down my throat. Once I feel the precious jewel clear my throat, my feet take flight. The sound of my heels clicking across the tile floor is deafening as my body becomes hyperaware of my surroundings. I hurry to the back exit, swing the door open, and I’m temporarily blinded by the sun.

As I emerge from the safety of the restaurant, I immediately feel the air shift and become stagnant. Wyatt stands before me with a smug smile on his face. The man I once thought was so handsome is now gruesome in my eyes. His head is shaved clean, and the beard on his face is bushy and unkempt. His brown eyes have dulled, and a large scar runs across his forehead. The most significant difference, however, is his size. The Wyatt I last saw was tall and too skinny. The Wyatt in front of me is a beast of a man. With corded muscle bulging from the black T-shirt he wears, and a neck the size of my thigh, he is scary as shit. As my eyes take in the hulking man in front of me, my brain clicks to fight mode. But I can’t attack, or someone I love could die.

“Talia, baby. So nice of you to join us.” The smile falls from his lips. “Purse.” Wyatt extends his hand.

“I don’t carry a purse.” I always hated carrying purses, so I have one of those phone covers with the sleeve to store my credit card and driver’s license.

He narrows his eyes at me. “Phone then.” I pull my phone from my bra and hand it to him. His eyes focus on my breasts, and he licks his lips before ordering me into the black town car. When I don’t budge––fear nailing me to the spot––he grabs my arm with bruising force and pulls me into his chest. My nose wrinkles in disgust as his too-sweet cologne assaults my nostrils. “Still a disobedient little thing, aren’t you? Well, don’t worry, baby, we’re going to have plenty of time to correct that behavior.” He crushes his crusty lips to mine, and I nearly gag as his tongue prods my lips to gain access.

I keep my lips firmly locked between my teeth, and with an angry growl, he pulls away. I feel the sting to my face before it even lands. My cheek explodes with fiery pain, and the coppery taste of blood coats my tongue as my lip splits from the impact. “You will fucking kneel for me. You will serve me.” He grabs a fist full of my hair and yanks my head back painfully, but I don’t make a sound. I refuse to give him my pain. “I am your God now,” he grinds out.

“Enough. Get her in the fucking car,” a voice thick with a Russian accent demands from the interior of the luxury car. Wyatt looks toward the car, then back at me before he snaps his caffeine-stained teeth like a shark moments away from devouring its prey.

Shoving me toward the car, one of my heels catches and comes loose. Wyatt pushes me again, and this time I land face down onto the buttery-soft leather of the town car. Realizing my skirt has risen up my thighs, I push myself up and swing my legs around, only to come face to face with the silver stare of Viktor Morozov. “Welcome, beautiful Talia. Wyatt has told me much about you.” The car shifts under Wyatt’s weight as he slides into the front passenger seat, and the interior rattles as he slams the door like a petulant child.

My eyes never leave Morozov’s, and the predatory look in his eyes has my body trembling and my already accelerated heartbeat climbing to near cardiac arrest levels. “Why?” I manage, and I’m proud when my voice doesn’t crack.

“Why what, дшееду лшееут? You will need to be more specific.” My brow furrows in curiosity at the foreign words that sound like malen’kiy kotenok. “It means little kitten,” he offers.

“Why are you helping him? What do you get out of it?” He angles himself toward me, and his entire aura radiates power. This man is used to getting what he wants, and he will use brute force if necessary. Yet he’s controlled and sophisticated in his expensive black tailored suit. If I didn’t know any better, I would think he’s just another rich asshole trying to conquer the world. Though I suppose he’s still a rich asshole trying to take over the world. The only difference is that he will slit my throat to do so.

Picking a piece of lint from his otherwise pristine suit, his wolf-like stare comes back to me, and for just a moment, I think how pretty his eyes are. His hair is the color of a moonless summer night, and the midnight locks make his eyes seem almost luminescent. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt to tell you. I needed a matter to be dealt with. A matter I couldn’t get to myself, so I asked around and found that Mr. Hudson had made quite a name for himself on the inside. I sent my instructions, and Mr. Hudson carried them out.”

I want to be surprised, but I’m not. Wyatt gets off on having complete control over people. He thrived on hearing my cries as he crushed my body and will, so working as an executioner for a powerful man like Morozov, I’m sure, gives him a tremendous hard-on.

“And in return, he asked you to pull some strings to get him out early.” It’s not a question because there is no way Wyatt got out early on his own.

“Very good, лшееут. You are like they say… a smart cookie.”

“So I’m told,” I quip. “You explained why you helped him get out of prison, but you haven’t told me why you’re helping him kidnap me.”

“Kidnap? No, no лшееут, you came through that do of your own accord,” he argues.

“You have a warped view of the situation, but whatever. Answer the question, Morozov.” His surname slips from my lips before I can stop it.

“Ah, so you do know who I am? I suppose I should not be surprised, seeing as who your lover is.” I hear Wyatt growl from the front seat, and my eyes connect with his in the rearview mirror. “To answer your question, Mr. Hudson asked me for another favor, and in exchange, he would come work for me.”

I bring my eyes back to Morozov, and the hunger I see in them has me shifting uncomfortably in my seat, the movement making my skirt ride up my thighs. As I try to adjust my skirt, Morozov’s eyes dip to my exposed thigh. His silver gaze sweeps over my skin like a physical touch, and goosebumps lift on my skin. His eyes seem to glow white-hot when they travel up my body, finally landing back on my aqua ones. Wrapping my arms around my waist, I angle away from his piercing glare and look out the window.

We drive in relative silence, only the harmonious sounds of classical music playing quietly through the speakers. When we exit the freeway and head into an area with homes worth millions, I breathe a sigh of relief. At least we aren’t in the middle of nowhere. But as we continue to drive, the gaps between the houses steadily become larger and larger, and my breath quickens. When we pull up to a gate that would put Caleb’s to shame, I have to swallow the fear rising from my belly. No one is getting through this gate, and the walls on either side can’t be less than ten feet tall and made of solid stone.

The goon in the guard shack presses a button as we approach, and the gates open to an open courtyard. An expansive manicured lawn lines the asphalt drive, and men with large guns patrol the grounds. We drive for what seems like minutes when a massive home comes into view. I look on in awe at the gorgeous mansion. I’m not one to care about flashy homes or cars. Still, even I can see the beauty in the three-story estate that displays classic Russian architecture: the vibrant red brick, sloped roofs, and narrow windows with ornate facades.

The car comes to a stop in the circle driveway, and the driver, Morozov, and Wyatt exit the vehicle. A cool breeze caresses my cheek when Wyatt opens my door. His meaty hand latches onto my bicep, and he yanks me to my feet. “Ready to play, baby?” Wyatt sneers. When I don’t speak, his grip on my arm tightens like a vise, but I don’t cry out. I don’t tell him to stop. I don’t even wince. And it pisses him off. Not because he wants me to show weakness––well, not just for that reason. No, he’s pissed at the fact that I spoke to Morozov, but I refuse to speak a word to him. “That’s fine. Keep your silence. Soon you won’t be able to keep your screams from escaping.”

He walks me across the asphalt, and my one missing heel has me hobbling behind him. When he yanks on my arm, I stumble and go down hard on my knees. Pain shoots through my knees and hands as I catch myself on the fresh blacktop. I’m snatched up again, and I hear Wyatt mutter under his breath, “Fucking useless,” before a sudden popping sound goes off next to my head, and something warm and sticky dots my cheek. Wyatt’s grip on my arm loosens before altogether dropping.

I turn just in time to see him fall to his knees then faceplant onto the hard ground, blood flowing from the bullet hole in his head. My breath lodges in my lungs, and my head swims with the lack of oxygen. I stumble back and land against a solid chest. Muscular arms wrap around me protectively, and for a moment, I want to hide in those arms, hide from the carnage in front of me. Then I remember who those arms belong to, and I spring from Morozov’s embrace.

I turn to him, and his face is covered in disappointment, but he wipes it clean of emotion and gestures to the palatial mansion. “Come, лшееут, we have much to talk about.” My eyes cast back to Wyatt lying dead on the asphalt, and I feel no sorrow or fear. I was shocked to see a man shot right in front of me, but as I look at the body of my tormentor on the ground, I feel…relief. I know I should be concerned with that fact, but I’m not.

My muscles release the tension holding them captive, and I turn back to Morozov. “Pay him no mind. Adrik will have that piece of shit removed.” He swings his eyes to his driver.

“Yes, boss,” the man says with the same thick Russian accent.

Morozov takes long strides to the front door, and I double step to keep up with him. As we climb the stone steps, the ornate wood door opens, and an older man dressed in a butler’s attire bows and greets him. We walk into the main hall, and I barely hear Morozov speak as I take in my surroundings.

The walls are hunter-green with gold crown molding, sparkling stones are embedded into the window seals, and a large gold table with a green marble top sits below the most exquisite iron chandelier. Crystals drip from every curved arm, and tiny hidden bulbs light the enormous piece.

“Talia?” Morozov’s voice breaks through my girlish admiration. I look back at him, and the smug smile on his face has me looking away in embarrassment. “This is Grisha. He manages my home here, and if you need anything, you will go to him.” He turns to the older man. “Grisha, this is Miss Talia Stone. She will be staying with us for the foreseeable future. Have the room next to mine made ready for her. Also, call Geisel and have her stock Talia’s rooms with whatever she will need.”

“Yes, sir.” Grisha bows, then walks away.

“Is everyone that works for you Russian?”

“The majority of them, yes. Much like you Americans, we Russians want to keep our people employed. However, unlike you Americans, we don’t mind getting our hands dirty.” He winks, and I roll my eyes. He continues to walk, and I follow, still taking in the opulence of his home. Large paintings line the walls, each one stunning, and most likely originals––and stolen.

We come to a stop in front of another massive wood door. He retrieves a brass key from his pocket and slots it into the large doorknob. The hinges creak with the effort to support the heavy door as he opens it, then closes it once we are secured inside. “Please, sit.” He gestures to one of the wide leather arm chairs. The leather is warm against my chilled skin as I sit. “I am sorry you had to see that.” He gestures in the general direction of the door. “I despise that motherfucker.”

“Then why––”

“For you, дшееду лшееут,” he cuts me off and folds himself into his oversized, green velvet office chair.

I swallow before I ask, “What do you mean?”

He leans back, hands together and lying on his flat stomach. He swivels his chair slightly from side to side as he studies me. When I think he’s going to ignore my question, he finally speaks. “Twenty years ago, Pierce Marron killed my father.” At my lack of surprise, his eyes narrow on me, and he continues, “Has your boyfriend told you the whole story?” I don’t respond because Caleb hadn’t told me the whole story.

His mother did.

Alexis told me about how Reed Ellison––arms and human trafficker and her ex-lover––had her abducted. She went on to tell me how the night Pierce came to save her, Alexander Morozov teamed up with one of Reed’s goons––well, ex-goon––named Trey Horner to take Reed down. But before Pierce and a man named Gabriel Ortiz could get her to safety, Horner and Alexander took Alexis. And just like his son, Alexander shot Horner and took Alexis for himself.

But apparently, what Viktor doesn’t know is that it wasn’t Pierce Marron who killed his father. It was Reed Ellison himself who killed Alexander, right before Reed dropped dead from a brain aneurysm.

When I don’t answer, Viktor proceeds, “Reed Ellison took Marron’s wife, and because of her, Ellison apparently gained a conscience.” He laughs at the last part. “He started selling off pieces of his business. My father wanted Reed Ellison’s empire, but he knew Ellison would never hand it over to him, even if he offered top dollar for it. So, he took his most prized possession––”

“Alexis.” I finish for him, and he nods in confirmation.

“Exactly. My father took Ellison’s goddess, his queen. His plan was to kill Marron and Ellison––which he thought he had succeeded––and take Alexis. You can imagine her fate in the hands of my father. Unfortunately, my father never got the chance to complete his plan. Both Reed and Pierce survived, and they came after him. One shot to the head,” he mimics a gun with his fingers and puts it to his head, “and my father was no more.”

“I’m confused. If Pierce Marron pulled the trigger, why not go after him? What does this have to do with me?” I would never wish my situation upon the Marrons, but I’m trying to keep him talking. The more he talks, the more time it gives Caleb to locate me.

He drops his hand. “A man like Pierce Marron does not care for his own safety. He would gladly give himself to me if it meant protecting his loved ones. What fun is there in that?” He extends his arms out to the side, then points at me. “But, to take the woman his son loves and make him think she’s being tortured by her ex? It would hurt not only Caleb Marron but his entire family,” he declares, a smug smile on his lips.

I bark out a laugh. “I don’t buy it.”

“You don’t buy what exactly?” he snarls.

“Coming after me to hurt Pierce. I think you’re scared to screw with Pierce Marron because he killed your father. That or you don’t want to mess around with an FBI agent. But let’s put all that aside. Are you telling me you’re risking them coming after you just to hurt their feelings? You don’t think they will come looking for me? You think they’re just going to sit on their asses and cry themselves to sleep?”

The vein in his forehead bulges and pulses with rising anger. “No, I do not. In fact, I’m sure they have already figured out who helped get Wyatt released. I expect both Caleb and Pierce Marron to attack, and when they do, I will make sure my sniper doesn’t miss. A bullet will be put through their heads, just like my father, before they even breach my walls.”

I know I should keep silent, but I can’t help myself. I lean toward Viktor’s desk. “Your father received mercy when that bullet entered his brain. He was a sick fuck who deserved so much worse, and you deserve the same fate,” I taunt, and before I can take another breath, I’m up and slammed against the wall—Viktor’s fingers around my throat.

“You insult my father? You insult me? When I am the one that saved you from the torture that son-of-a-bitch had planned for you?”

Static clogs my ears, and spots dance in my vision. I dig my nails into his wrist, and as the fog of asphyxiation begins to cover me, I remember what Michael taught me.

I tuck my chin, slam the side of my hand into Viktor’s inner elbow, then jerk my right shoulder to the left, causing his palm to spread enough for me to grab his thumb and wrench it toward his wrist. Adrenaline pumping, I put my entire body weight into bending his thumb back, and the move brings him to his knees. My knee connects with his nose with a crunch, and blood sprays along the expensive gold and green rug.

Tears stream down his face as he grabs his gushing nose, and I take the opportunity to run for the door, but with cat-like reflexes, Viktor grabs my ankle and twists. Pain rockets through my ankle, and I grunt as my hip slams into the hardwood floor, and my head hits the leg of a side table. Stars burst in front of my eyes, and I have to shake them away. I try to stand, but Viktor is too quick, and I can’t help the cry that leaves my lips as he kicks me in the stomach.

“I wanted to be kind to you, pussycat, but you give me no choice but to hurt you.” Burning pain courses through my torso when he lands a kick to my ribs. When he kicks me again, I vomit, and with my expelled lunch comes the diamond with the tracker in it. I want to reach for it, but I can’t move. My body is screaming out in pain, begging for mercy, but my lips remain shut. I will not ask for mercy from this monster.

He lifts my head by the roots of my hair and whispers against my cheek. “I would have waited for you to come to me, but now” he runs his nose across my cheek and up to my ear, “I will take what I want.” He releases my hair, and my head slams into the floor, bouncing on impact.

“Adrik!” he shouts, and I clench my eyes shut as the splintering pain in my head consumes my senses.

The cool breeze of the door flying open soothes my sweaty skin, and I can just make out another pair of shiny leather shoes. “Yes, boss?”

“Срфтпу ща здфты. Цу дуфму ащк Ьщысщц тщц. Куфвн еру оуе.”Change of plans. We leave for Moscow now. Ready the jet. I have no idea what he just said, but it doesn’t matter. My vision swims, and I feel the stick of a needle in my arm. I feel him caress my damp hair, and before everything goes dark, I hear him say, “Sleep, дшееду лшееут. Soon, we will be home, and I will clip those claws of yours.”

25

Caleb

“Calm the fuck down, Marron!” Jax bellows across the M.H.S. conference room where we have all gathered to assess the situation.

My muscles tense, and I turn rageful eyes on my best friend. “Calm down? Calm down?” I seethe. “You want me to calm the fuck down when the woman I love has been taken by her psycho of an ex and a Russian mob boss? God only knows what he’s doing to her. We know where she is, yet every fucker in here expects me to sit around and do nothing?!” Air leaves my nostrils in heavy puffs like a bull with a red cape being waved in front of him.

“We’re not doing nothing, Marron. We are coming up with a solid plan that gets everyone who heads to her location out safely. And every fucker,” he points around the room, “in here cares about her and will fight to the death for her.”

Every head in the room nods in agreement. Every head but Tye’s, that is. He’s sitting at the far end of the room, forearms on his knees and head bowed in shame––or guilt. Good. I hope it eats him alive.

When I got the call from him, I immediately raced over to the restaurant Talia was taken from, and when Tye approached me, I didn’t give a shit that Scotty or the restaurant patrons watched as I punched one of my best men in the face. Tye took the hit like he knew it was coming, and with gritted teeth, I fired his ass before marching to the manager and demanding the CCTV footage from the past hour. The problem was the cameras around the restaurant were apparently just for show.

With the cameras a no-go, I followed Talia and Tye’s path, searching the bathroom, then slowly walking the hall closest to the bathroom. It dead-ended at the back exit, and when I pushed the door open, my eyes immediately landed on Talia’s black heel. A cold sweat coated my brow, and my breath stuck in my lungs at the confirmation she was gone.

I knew she didn’t carry a purse, and her phone was going straight to voicemail. I had no doubt they dumped that first thing. Instantly, I felt like an idiot for not immediately checking the GPS tracker in her necklace.

Pulling up the app, I watched as the tiny red dot moved along the highway. With renewed energy, I sprang back through the door, only to run straight into Jax. From there, we argued the point of going after the flashing red dot or heading to M.H.S. to come up with a plan of attack. After I finally agreed to head to M.H.S., Jax demanded he drive me, so I didn’t do anything stupid. He even went as far as threatening to carry me like a little bitch to his car.

Now here we were, having the same damn argument we had at the restaurant. I’ll admit, I know my plan to just “storm the castle” isn’t bright. But fuck, what is a man to do? I am sitting here––or pacing––with my hands metaphorically tied behind my back.

Running shaky hands over my face, I look up at the ceiling and pray for clarity. The last time I felt so out of control was when my father told me a bad man took my mother. My body vibrates with the need for violence, as a mixture of rage, hopelessness, and fear courses through my veins.

A hand lands on my shoulder, and I turn to look at my sister. “We are going to get her back, Caleb. In the meantime, remember what a badass she is. Talia has gone through some shit, and she came out stronger on the other side. Do not for one second, think she can’t handle that bastard.” I’m grateful for my sister’s words. She can be the biggest pain in my ass, but when shit goes down, she’s always there by my side. Wrapping an arm around Lizzy’s shoulders, I plant a brotherly kiss on her head, and she responds with a one-armed hug.

Our tender moment is interrupted when the conference room door bursts open, and my mother and father walk into the room. My father heads straight for the large conference table, where he spreads out a blueprint.

“You hanging in there, buddy?” my mother asks, her brown eyes tender. But beneath that tender look, I see her struggling to keep her own anger from spilling over. Out of every person in this room, my mother is the only one who has the slightest clue as to what Talia might be going through. And I thank God that she’s here.

“I wasn’t,” I answer honestly. “But Lizzy reminded me what Talia is capable of.”

My mother’s lips lift in a Cheshire cat grin. “Whew, may God have mercy on that man’s soul when Talia gets ahold of him.” Despite the situation, I chuckle.

As I stand there looking at my mother, the rock of our family, something inside me gets tripped, and a single tear tracks down my cheek. Suddenly, every emotion, every memory, every nightmare from my past comes flooding back to me. My throat constricts as I can’t seem to get enough oxygen. I immediately know what is about to happen.

I haven’t had a panic attack since I was twelve. I insisted on going with my mother to the grocery store, but when I got distracted by a book in the magazine aisle, I lost sight of her. She ended up just being in the next aisle, but my brain immediately envisioned the worst and freaked. When she realized I wasn’t next to her, she returned to where she last saw me and found me on the cold tile floor, shaking and hyperventilating. She refused the help offered by the staff, opting to rock me in her arms like she would during one of my nightmares. She hummed sweetly in my ear as I slowly began to catch my breath. She sat there whispering encouraging words until the cold sweat dried on my skin, and I was so exhausted she had to call my father to help get me to the car.

That night I heard her sobbing behind her bedroom doors, and I knew she was crying for me. I decided then that I would get my panic attacks under control, and I have been successful… until this moment.

My mother grabs my hand and practically drags me from the room––which isn’t easy considering my much larger stature–– when she recognizes the signs of my impending attack.

My head feels heavy on my shoulders as I become lightheaded. My legs feel like jello right before my mother shoves me into the men’s bathroom and locks the door. The moment I hear the lock click into place, my knees buckle and hit hard on the travertine floor. As if running on instinct, my body curls in on itself as I try to catch my breath. I feel my mother kneel in front of me, and the next thing I know, my head is on her shoulder. I feel like a pussy as she begins to hum in my ear. I feel pathetic as she rubs my back rhythmically. But all the self-loathing pales in comparison to the feeling of complete and utter gratefulness for this woman.

My gasping breaths turn into sobs as my body releases me from my panic. The adrenaline dumped into my bloodstream dissipates, leaving me exhausted and shaking like a leaf. When I look up and see tears streaming down my mother’s face, I drop my head in shame, only to have it lifted by a hand on each of my cheeks. “Don’t do that. I am your mother. Your pain is my pain, and I will gladly take it on if only so you know you’re not alone in that pain. Do you understand?”

With immense love in my heart for her, I nod and wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. Standing, she pulls on my hands, and with legs that feel like they could give out any moment, I lift myself from the floor. I straighten my spine and take in a deep cleansing breath. “That’s my boy,” she smiles, then unlocks the door before she leaves me to gather myself.

The granite countertop is cool under my palms as I stare at my reflection. My eyes are bloodshot, and the green irises seem to glow in contrast. My face is pale and blotchy as the color returns to my skin. A sigh leaves my lips as I splash cold water on my face—the cool liquid soothing my heated skin. Wiping my face with a paper towel made from recycled material––thank you, Gerry––I remove my tie and unbutton the top two buttons of my dress shirt, and with one last deep breath, I head to the conference room.

Not one person looks up from what they’re doing when I enter the room, and I have no doubt I have my mother to thank for that. I catch her eye and smile in gratitude. She just winks, then goes back to listening to whatever my father is saying.

Approaching the table, I see my father marking X’s on different points of the blueprint. “We believe this is Morozov’s home, and these are the weak entry points once we gain access to the main house. However, the bitch of the situation is this big bastard right here.” He circles what looks to be a large gate. “It’s made of reinforced steel and is attached to a ten-foot stone wall. If we’re trying to go in quietly, then we have to figure out how to scale it without any guards noticing. What I’m thinking––”

“She’s on her way to Moscow!” Xander interrupts, and we all turn to him. He stands at the open conference room door holding a laptop in each arm, and the smile on his face contrasts with the current situation.

“What do you mean she’s on her way to Moscow?” Jax asks the obvious question.

Xander rushes over to the conference table and not so gently sweeps the blueprint aside as he lays the two laptops down. My father looks at me in irritation, but I just shrug in response.

“Okay, I’m not positive she is, but look.” He keys in a trail of code a mile long, bringing up an image of a large building. He hits another button, and the image is cast to the eight-five-inch flatscreen mounted on the far wall. Pushing his black Oakley glasses up his nose, he approaches the screen, then hits a button on a remote. The image switches to infrared, and bodies of heat move around the surrounding area of the building.

“You know that drone program I’ve been working on? Well, this is one of the beta drones. It’s not perfect yet, but as soon as I got the coordinates of Talia’s tracker, I sent one over.”

“That’s the same house from the blueprint, right? The one we believe belongs to Morozov?” my father asks. He stands next to Xander, studying the screen, his muscular arms crossed over his chest.

“Yes, and it is, in fact, Morozov’s house. His father had it built for the times he came into town for work. Now watch. This was three hours ago.”

We watch as bodies move around the perimeter of the home, then stop briefly as the large gate opens and a vehicle approaches the mansion. The car comes to a stop, and the doors open. When three people emerge from the car, the video stops.

“I think two of these men are the ones we’re looking for, and I think this,” he presses play, and a fourth person is pulled from the car, “is Talia.” My breath stills as I stare at the warm body exiting the vehicle, but then the two figures become one as one is pulled close to the other.

All four people walk toward the mansion, but the two close in contact stop suddenly, then begin moving again. Right before they reach the steps, one figure stands behind the two and extends his arm. The infrared illuminates red hot as the gun fires a bullet into the person’s head, and my world disintegrates in front of me.

“NO!” Rage and despair echo through the room as my vision fills with a red fog, and my body pumps adrenaline to my muscles. Grabbing Xander by his shirt collar, I slam him against the wall. “Why? Why would you fucking show me that? WHY!” I can feel the veins in my neck popping, and my teeth are close to cracking with how hard my jaw is clenched.

“Caleb, stop!” I hear my mother shout, but I ignore her plea because… they shot her. They shot my angel in the head. They shot her like a fucking rabid dog.

My arm lifts, and my hand fist, ready to punch Xander in the face when beefy arms pull me off him. “Son, enough! Think for a minute. He said she was on her way to Moscow!” The arm around my neck is a threat to take me down if I don’t calm down.

When my father’s words finally penetrate my skull, the red veil of fury begins to drop from my eyes. My heartbeat begins to slow, and I look at my friend and colleague. He adjusts his glasses, then goes about fixing his dress shirt before his eyes swing to mine.

My father releases me from his hold, and I spear my fingers through my hair, gripping the roots to the point of pain. Taking gulps of oxygen, I try to calm myself. “Fuck, Xander, I’m sorry. I just… I just saw that gun go off, and––”

“No need to explain, boss. This is a fucked-up situation.” He pats me on the back, then returns to his position in front of the flatscreen as though nothing happened.

“You can’t get her out if you can’t keep your shit together,” my father whispers tersely. I’m not used to my father speaking to me so harshly, and the disappointment in his voice has me bowing my head in shame.

“I know. I fucked up.” I look up into his blue eyes. “It won’t happen again.” He nods and grasps my shoulder, guiding me back to the flatscreen. The video is paused again, so I nod for Xander to continue, but at that moment, the door swings open, and Michael storms in––Gerry on his heels.

“I’m sorry, Caleb, but he’s a big dude. I couldn’t stop him,” Gerry huffs and sends a scolding look Michael’s way.

“It’s okay, Gerry. I called him,” Jax says, and my head snaps to him. He shrugs, then brings his attention back to the T.V. screen.

“Where the fuck are we with getting her back?” Michael asks with barely contained rage. When he notices my mother, he’s quick to apologize for his language. “Sorry, Mrs. Marron.”

“It’s okay, Michael. Sometimes the situation calls for a fuck or two. And please call me Lexi.”

“We were in the middle of verifying her location. May we continue?” I bite, and Michael just nods.

Xander points to the figure now on the ground. “I believe this is Hudson. I think he served his purpose, and at this point became more of an annoyance. Morozov is head of the Moscow Bratva. I can’t see him wasting his time helping a lowlife like Hudson get his old flame back. He has bigger fish to fry.”

“So, what’s his angle?” Jax asks from beside me.

“Revenge.” My mother’s lyrical voice floats on the air as she approaches the screen and crosses her arms over her chest, mimicking my father’s posture. “He’s going after the people that killed his father. Psh, a bit cliché, but I would bet my life that’s what he’s gunning for.” She looks at my father, and he nods in agreement.

“But I thought Ellison killed Alexander Morozov, not one of you?” Lizzy argues and steps next to Jax.

“He did. I watched Ellison put a bullet through his head. So, either this Morozov isn’t aware of that, or since Ellison is dead, he’s coming after the next best thing.” My father scratches his gold and silver goatee-covered chin.

“Okay, but that still doesn’t explain why he went after Talia. Why didn’t he just come after you, or even Mom? It also doesn’t explain why Talia clearly went willingly with these ass fucks,” Lizzy protest.

“I’m not sure why he chose this route, but Talia wouldn’t go with them unless he gave her a really good reason,” I assure.

“Like threatening someone she loves,” my mom says to the room.

I turn to Xander. “Keep going.”

He presses play, and the two figures we suspect to be Talia and Morozov move into the interior of the home before stopping in front of another person then moving into another room. The video plays as the two sit stationary for a few minutes. When suddenly the person behind the large desk stands, the playback freezes again.

I swing my eyes to Xander. “You’re not going to like this next part, boss.” He cringes and waits for my signal to proceed. My brow creases, and my breath stutters between my lips as I exhale. Trepidation rattles my bones as I signal for Xander to continue.

He presses play, and in a flash, Morozov has Talia against the wall. You can see her struggle to break his hold, and my blood pumps pure acid as I watch the woman I love struggle for her life. But as quickly as Morozov attacked, Talia attacks back.

“YES! Get him bitch!” Lizzy shouts, and my chest warms with pride when I see Morozov go down. However, that pride is replaced by the cold sweat of terror as I see him grab Talia, and they struggle before he gets the upper hand and attacks with vicious kicks. Talia’s image goes still, and another person enters the room before he rushes back out and gets into the exact vehicle they just exited.

Hudson’s body is gone, replaced with a pool of blood illuminating the asphalt. Morozov walks back over to Talia, and the two images become one. The ball of heat moves back outside and places Talia in the back seat before getting in next to her. As the vehicle moves down the driveway, the guards surrounding the perimeter enter the house, and four figures emerge from a door hidden in the roof.

“Snipers,” Jax says matter-of-factly. “He’s expecting you to come after her, and when you do, he’s planning to pick you off one by one.”

“Instead, you will be on a plane to Moscow. After doing some digging and calling in a shit ton of favors, I found a large compound in the middle of a providence in western Moscow called Dolgoprudny. The land and the house that sits on it are registered under Volga River Engineering. It’s one of Morozov’s shell companies.” Xander’s smile splits his face, and though I know he likely attained this information illegally, I want to kiss the guy.

“So, brainiac, how do you know he’s headed there?” Lizzy asks.

“I have a guy that works with the TSA. I called him up and asked if any private flights were making a sudden departure today. He said there was one being prepped to head to Moscow. Not only that, but the crew has yet to file their manifesto. Sounds like Morozov to me.”

I’m ready to storm out the door and board my own jet when a thought occurs to me. I pull up the GPS app for Talia’s necklace and see it’s still pinging inside Morozov’s Texas home. “We’re absolutely sure he has her with him? Her necklace shows her still in his house.” I turn my phone in their direction, and they all look at Xander.

“I’m ninety-five percent sure he has her. The necklace may have come loose in the struggle.”

I agree with him, but I hate not knowing for sure. I could end up wasting time we don’t have.

“You go to Moscow, son. Jax and I will take a team to Morozov’s home here.”

“I have some old contacts in Moscow. I’m sure I can have them set you up with some firepower and a safe house,” Jax says and immediately starts making calls.

“And I’ll be helping dad and Jax,” Lizzy declares.

She shakes her head when both my father and I go to protest. “No, don’t start. I’m going.” There’s no use arguing, so we both nod in agreement.

“And I’m going to Moscow with Caleb.” My eyes bug at my mother’s words, and I swiftly turn to her.

“Mom––”

She holds up a hand to stop me. “Talia is a strong woman, but once you have her out, every fear, every pain, and every ‘what if’ is going to come crashing down on her. She’s going to need someone who can sympathize with her. Someone who knows what she’s going through.” My mother’s eyes cloud with the past, and my own eyes sadden at her pain. Turning to my father, she lays delicate hands on his broad chest. “I need to do this, Pierce.”

My father’s eyes fill with trepidation but also pride as he threads his fingers through her dark hair before gripping it at the roots. His eyes bore into hers with awe and admiration. “I know, beautiful.” He places a kiss on her forehead before his eyes turn steely. “You are to stay at the safe house the entire time. You do not leave unless it is our son escorting you. Am I clear?” The clear threat in my father’s voice dares my mother to argue, and while anyone else would be shitting themselves, my mother just smiles before answering.

“Yes, Sir,” she beams up at him. He crushes his lips to hers before whispering something in her ear, and she responds with, “You too.”

“Ooookay, now that I’ll never be able to have sex again after that gross fest, can we go kick Morozov’s Russian ass?” Lizzy asks, rubbing her palms together and bouncing from foot to foot like a boxer ready to throw fists. We all laugh––except for my father, who apparently doesn’t appreciate the mention of Lizzy having sex.

Xander looks down at his watch as he speaks. “The jet will be ready in about two hours. Everyone go home and pack everything you’ll need—and pack warm. It’s colder than a witch’s titty there.” We all look at him in amusement.

“I’m going to Moscow.” Tye, who has been quiet the entire time, stands and stares me straight in the eye. “I know you blame me. Hell, I blame myself, but I’m not asking you. I’m telling you. I’m going to Moscow. Like Jax said, he has contacts there, and if it’s who I think it is,” he looks at Jax, and with a slight tip of his head Jax confirms, “then I could be of use.”

When I first got to the restaurant, I wanted to kill Tye for letting Talia get past him, but after working through our plan, my raging mind has had time to settle. Now I realize I couldn’t hold Tye completely accountable. I knew Talia would find a way to get by him. Even if it meant hitting Tye with something to knock his ass out. If sending him on a wild goose chase didn’t work, that is.

Walking over to him, I clap a hand on his shoulder. “It wasn’t entirely your fault. Talia would have done whatever she had to do to get you out of the way. Especially if she felt she was protecting someone she cared about. Which I suspect she did. Go home and get what you need. Meet us at Love Field in two hours.” I wasn’t going to apologize for the punch to the chin because he needed to feel the pain. It would be a reminder of his screw-up. He swallows the obvious emotion choking him and nods before exiting the conference room.

“I don’t give a shit what team I go with, but I’m going with one of you,” Michael declares, and I know I’m about to have a battle on my hands.

“Michael––”

“Don’t even try it, Marron. Talia is family. I’m not going to––”

“I know. And for that reason, I am asking you to hold the fort down at S.T. Talia may… need time, and I want her to be able to come home to a thriving company. You’re her second in command, so I am asking you to do this for her.”

I can see the battle raging in his mind, but he knows I’m right. “Alright. But I want updates every step of the way.”

“I’ll do you better. I’ll make sure you’re on the comms with us during each raid,” Jax assures Michael.

“Thank you.” Michael nods then leaves.

I turn to Jax. “Alright, everyone, let’s go get my girl back.”

26

Talia

Throbbing pain. It’s the first thing I feel as the fog lifts. The pain in my ribs shoots painful electrical currents through my body, and my temples feel as though they have their own heartbeat, and that heartbeat is shooting daggers straight through my skull. The pain intensifies as my head bobbles from side to side with the movement around me. Every shimmy and shake of my body has me groaning and my stomach dipping. Blindly reaching out for something to help steady my jerking body, I feel fabric, then a cold hand lands on mine. My eyes spring open, and I immediately regret it as bright lights send ice picks of pain through my head.

“Good you are finally awake, лшееут.” At the thick Russian accent, flashes of memories play through my mind: eating lunch with Scotty, Wyatt’s threat, Wyatt’s blood on the ground, the struggle in Morozov’s office, then everything goes blank.

My neck pops and crackles as I slowly turn to look at the man beside me. He has a smug smile on his face and the beginning of a black eye.

My own smile stretches my lips at the memory of busting his nose. “Not so pretty now, are you?” I taunt, my throat dry and raspy. My victory is short-lived when Viktor fists my hair and yanks my head back. Razor-sharp pain has me gritting my teeth and swallowing the yelp that wants to escape my lips.

“I had planned to be kind to you and let you sleep in luxury in my home, but then you had to go and be a bad kitty. Now I am forced to escalate my plans for you. You could have spent one last night in the warm comfort of your birthplace, but now you will spend your time in an icy cage in my birthplace.” He tightens his grip, and my scalp burns with each tug of his cruel fingers.

“What do you mean?” I ask through gritted teeth.

Suddenly the plane jerks, and my hands clutch the arms rest. “We are going to my home in Moscow, where you, my kitten, will have your very own cage.” He runs the tip of his nose against my cheek, and his lips whisper against my ear as he speaks. “You will be my pet, and I will do whatever I please with you. Whatever you and Marron did in that club is nothing compared to what I have in store for you.” My body shivers in his hold, and the triumphant sparkle in his eyes tells me he sees the fear I’m trying so desperately to hide. He releases my hair and strokes my head like a treasured pet.

I stare daggers at him, and when his hand drops to my thigh, my skin crawls. When I go to pull away, his grip tightens, bruising the delicate skin. “Keep fighting, дшееду лшееут. You will only make your punishment worse. You can either suffer or submit at my hands. The choice is yours,” he proclaims, and his silver gaze blazes with white fire.

“You have no idea what suffering is. I would rather suffer under your hand than ever submit to you. There is only one man I submit to.”

His lips tip up in an evil smirk. “We will see, pussycat. We will see.”

Much like the Texas mansion, Morozov’s Moscow home is surrounded by a tall stone wall, steel gate, and guard shack. But where his Texas home was old-world Russian architecture, his Moscow home is sleek and modern, its jagged edges and stacked boxy levels standing out amongst the other lavish homes we drive past on our journey here.

The snow on the ground makes the surrounding area look like a winter wonderland. The ice that clings to the surrounding trees twinkles like magic crystals in the sunlight peeking through the grey clouds. But this is no fairytale world. This is the path to hell, and it’s paved with white, powdery snow. I’m still studying the surrounding area when my door is opened, and I’m pulled from the warmth of my seat by rough, meaty hands.

As soon as we landed at Morozov’s private airstrip, my hands were tied behind my back, and two of his guards escorted me to a hulking black Hummer. We drove what felt like forever, my wrists chafing with each bump we hit. Michael taught me how to fight, but we never got to the lesson on how to get out of restraints. Sure I’ve seen it done on internet videos and movies, but seeing and doing are two different things. Not that I could make an attempt with Morozov on one side of me and his goon on the other.

Warm vapor escapes my lips as my breath meets the icy cold wind, and I shiver in my skirt, ripped blouse, and bare feet. My teeth chatter loudly as the meathead who has my arm in a bruising hold pulls me along aside him.

“Careful with her, Borya. She is my property, and I don’t want her damaged further.” Borya’s hand instantly loosens on my arm, and he says something to his boss in Russian. The second goon comes up behind Morozov and does the same, and Morozov responds with his own string of Russian. He stops in front and nods to Borya, who then cuts the ties from my wrist. My arms ache from being in one position too long, and my wrists are rubbed raw.

An icy finger runs along my cheek as Morozov addresses me. “Well, лшееут I will get you settled, but then I have some work to do. I’m sure your beloved will be attempting to infiltrate my Texas home soon, along with the other Marron scum.” He bares his teeth as he speaks the surname. “And when they do, Pierce and Caleb will be executed on-site. The women, however,” he bobbles his head side to side as if considering, “they will be used for my men’s enjoyment. Who knows? Perhaps I will tell my men to hold off killing them and force both men to watch as their wife, mother, and daughter are raped and beaten to an inch of their lives.”

The blood drains from my face, and the cold Moscow air has nothing on the ice that runs through my veins at the thought of Alexis and Lizzy being raped and tortured. The thought of Caleb and Pierce being executed is enough to have me wanting to beg for mercy, but the image of Alexis and Lizzy enduring such cruelty has me thrashing in Borya’s hold and screaming for him to let me go. Morozov gives him a swift nod, and he releases me. My knees hit the cold concrete, and tears stream down my cheeks, but they have nothing to do with the pain in my knees.

“Please, don’t. I’m begging you, Viktor. Leave them alone. I will do anything you want. I’ll submit. I swear to you. Just please don’t hurt them.” I beg, and I see the sick bastard’s pupils dilate at his name on my lips and my promise to submit.

White flames erupt in his eyes, but just as quickly, the fire is snuffed out when pure ice enters them. He bends at the knees and pinches my chin in his long cold fingers. “You speak as though you have any other choice.” Leaning forward, his lips press to my forehead before he brings his eyes back to mine. “The Marron men will die.” I open my mouth to plead, but he places a finger over my lips, quieting me. “But if you are a good girl, I will allow the women to remain unharmed.” He tilts his head to the side. “See? Am I not merciful, дшееду лшееут?”

I want to argue, I want to fight, but though he still vows to kill the man I love and his father, I have to be good if I want to keep Alexis and Lizzy safe. I have to trust Caleb and Pierce can handle themselves.

Morozov lifts me to my feet, which have now become numb from the cold. I limp along next to him as we enter the house. A blast of warm air hits my frozen body, causing my feet to sting and my skin to itch with the returning blood flow.

Various beefed-up scary-looking men greet Morozov with a simple bow of their head as we walk a path through the posh, modern home. When we come to a set of black stairs that seem to float in mid-air, Morozov stops to speak to one of his men. Since I have no idea what they are saying, I take the opportunity to take in the luxurious home.

The ceiling is no less than twenty feet high and painted in a dark grey. An entire wall is made of glass, and the sun shines through, giving the room a warm, welcoming feeling, entirely at odds with the truth. The furniture consists of two sizable black leather sofas and two single-person chairs of the same material. In the middle sits a glass table trimmed with glossy black metal and a small gunmetal grey vase filled with white Calla lilies perched on its smooth surface. The floor is made up of distressed wood in the same color as the ceiling, and thick rugs in different shades of grey are spread throughout the open area. An open archway leads to what looks to be a kitchen, and a long hallway runs alongside it.

I’m pulled from my examination of my surroundings when Morozov puts us back in motion. We ascend into an open loft area before heading down a long hall. Everything is shades of grey or a stark black from the black doors to the grey light fixtures, and yet the house is open and bright. We come to a stop in front of a door much larger than all the others that line the hall. When Morozov looks back at me with a wicked smile, I know this is his room.

He opens the foreboding door and presses a firm hand to the small of my back. Putting one tentative foot in front of the other, I enter the room. Black. So much black. But where I would think so much of such a bleak color would be depressing, surprisingly, the room is quite beautiful. Its black wood floors, velvet curtains, and black and silver rug are masculine but not overwhelming. The ceiling is lower in this room but still pitched high. The bed’s black and silver padded headboard made of Victorian-style fabric extends the entire wall, and a floor-to-ceiling black entertainment area displays a large flatscreen with a long gas fireplace built into the wall beneath it.

But none of those features matter, not the luxurious fabrics, not the crystal chandelier above the enormous bed, and not even the large bookshelves stuffed full of books. What matters, what terrifies me, is the human-sized iron cage set in the corner of the room.

Instinctually, I back away at the sight of the ominous enclosure, and when my back is met with a solid wall of muscle, a ragged howl of despair is released from my very soul. As my knees buckle, I’m lifted and taken to a bathroom where Morozov sets me on the closed toilet lid. “Stay put, лшееут.” I don’t bother acknowledging him as my body shakes in fear.

As he meanders around the room doing God only knows what, I begin drifting into another world, trying to escape, a technique I often used when Wyatt would take me against my will. When I feel hands lifting the hem of my torn blouse, I look up to see Morozov’s stern gaze. Without a word, I lift arms that feel like they’re made of lead and let him drag both my shirt and bra from my body. His eyes roam my exposed torso and stop on my breasts. My skin chills, and I clench my teeth when he grazes a knuckle over my nipple before pinching it painfully between his fingers. My body begs to cry out in pain, but I won’t allow it.

When he doesn’t get the reaction he wanted, he releases my nipple then yanks me by my bicep to stand. I let my arms hang lifelessly by my side as he unzips my skirt and relieves me of my panties while the room fills with steam from the running shower.

“Now, get in and clean yourself. I will not have a dirty pet.” He presses a hand between my shoulder blades and walks me to the glass enclosure. Doing as I’m told, I wash myself, but I’m entirely on autopilot. I don’t allow my mind to drift to the cage that awaits me, I don’t allow my mind to wonder what torture is in store for me, and I definitely don’t let my mind wander into thoughts of Caleb.

Once I have completed my task to his liking, Morozov orders me out of the shower. Enveloping me in a plush black towel, he begins to dry me off, starting with my hair. He moves down my body with meticulous hands paying close attention to my breasts. When he finishes drying my feet, he lifts his head, and silver eyes bore into my aqua ones, and they clench shut at the first swipe of his tongue along the lips of my sex. And when his tongue dips between my folds, I have to fists my hands to keep myself from pummeling him. He is the villain. He is a monster. I hate this man for taking away everything I hold dear.

His tongue laps at my clit like a man starving for his next meal. I attempt to escape inside my head again, but my attempts are thwarted when he enters me with two fingers and crooks them slightly. My eyes fly open, and a gasp escapes my lips as his tongue and fingers work my pussy. Shame floods my system as I feel my arousal coat his fingers, and my core tightens in an impending release.

The taste of copper coats my tongue as I bite down hard on my lip. Steeling my spine, I lock eyes with the silver gaze of Morozov, and instantly my body obeys me. The evil glint in his wolf-like eyes is precisely what I need to bring my impending release to heel.

His fingers slow before leaving my core altogether, and he lifts his head from my sex. “Come now, pet. Allow yourself the pleasure I can bring you. You will be with me for a long time. Why not enjoy my kindness?” It’s then I feel the tears coating my cheeks as my soul cries out for Caleb’s forgiveness. I may have not let my body give in to another’s touch, but the guilt of another man’s hands on me sears my soul.

I’m still crying when I’m lifted and carried out of the bathroom. I’m set on my feet, and the creak of metal against metal has me wrapping my arms around my waist. My tear-clogged eyes land on the large metal cage, then Morozov. “Do not look at me like that, лшееут. Perhaps when you have proven you can be a good girl, then you can be let out.” His silver eyes turn steely. “Now, obey me.”

With my arms still wrapped protectively around me, I enter the cage, a hiss escaping my lips as my feet hit the cold metal floor. Turning to look at my captor, I study him as he stands at the cage door stoic and unmoving, his eyes his only tell. And they tell me how much he wants to devour me, body and soul.

“Turn around,” he commands, and with my heart in my throat, I obey. “Now walk back toward my voice.” I do as I am told. “Stop. Kneel.” Butterflies swarm my belly at the order, the memory of Caleb commanding me to kneel and suck him to climax, trying to push through. But I refuse to taint such a memory.

Gathering my thoughts and safely tucking Caleb away into the back of my mind, I close my eyes and kneel. What little hope left inside me flees the moment the thick leather collar goes around my neck, and the heavy chain attached to it clangs against the cage bars. The lock clicking into place is like the final tick of the clock, assisting my soul to move on quicker to the afterlife.

“Stand and turn around.” The buttery soft leather of the collar rubs against my skin as I stand and turn. “You have no idea how beautiful you look with my collar around your neck, дшееду лшееут,” he says in awe.

“You call me your little kitten, yet you put a collar on me like a dog,” I sneer, and he chuckles.

“Just another way to keep my pussycat obedient. A way to clip her claws until she learns to obey her master.” He jerks on the chain, and I stumble forward, my hands meeting his broad chest. “You will obey me. Right, лшееут?” he whispers against my ear. My blood boils in my veins, and my body itches to retaliate, but I know I cannot. There’s too much at risk, so like the compliant pet I am to become, I answer him.

“Yes.”

He pulls back and hums against my lips. “Good. Because if you do not, I will go after everyone you love. And from here on out, you will call me Master. Are we clear?” He brushes his lips against mine, and when I don’t immediately answer, he bites down hard on my bottom lip, and again I taste blood.

I bite down on my back molars and speak through clenched teeth. “Yes, Master.”

“Good girl,” he praises before taking my mouth in a violent kiss. When I don’t open for him, his fingers dig into the sides of my cheeks. I moan in pain as his short nails slice my skin. As soon as my lips part, his tongue dives into my mouth, and he groans in satisfaction as he laps at my tongue and lips. When he pulls away, he pulls my bottom lip between his teeth, making me wince at the sting from his earlier bite. “You will come to crave my touch. There will be pain, Talia Stone. Do not doubt that. You will learn that I am the only one that can release you from that pain and deliver your pleasure. That is when you will kneel freely and beg me to bring you peace.” His body leaves mine abruptly, and I jump when the cage door slams shut.

As he walks out of the room, I make a vow. I make a vow to tuck away the ones I love in the deepest recesses of my mind. I will slam the door of my heart closed. Otherwise, I will surely break.

I make a silent promise to my loved ones, then begin to shut down every human part of me. As the numbness crawls across my body, a satisfied smile stretches my lips. With my heart hardened and my mind void of anything resembling love, I sit in my cage and wait for my master to return.

27

Talia

Four days. That’s how long I’ve been in this cage, only let out long enough to use the bathroom or to receive my torture. How do I know? Because though I am in this cage, I still see the sun rise each morning and set each evening. I barely sleep, and the times I do, my dreams are plagued with monsters stalking me in the shadows. The beast bears down on me as I try to run from his talons that scrape along my back with stinging agony.

Morozov has kept his promise to hurt me—well, technically, it’s his lackey that has hurt me––but he commands the pain. Twice a day, I’m to receive my “treatment,” as he calls it. Each morning I am to eat my breakfast of Semolina porridge, then wait on my knees in my cage for Morozov and one of his men to come. He always comes with a smile on his face, and I always respond with the same dead-eyed look, which pisses him off to no end.

The evening I arrived, Morozov pulled me from the cage and had me lay face down on his bed with my legs hanging over the side. I was sure he was going to take me, but then a man I now know as Ruslan came in with a long, braided whip. The smell of leather hit my nostrils as Morozov ran the whip along my body and tapped my ass with the handle. A twisted tease. When I didn’t make a sound, when I didn’t move or shudder in fear, Morozov gave the command to start the treatment.

Leather met my back with blistering pain, but I remained silent. Lash after lash came down across my back, ass, and thighs, but my mind drifted away into another world. I knew later I would feel every sting, but for now, I would float away in my own mind.

“Stop. You may leave,” Morozov commanded his man. My mind began to come back to the now as Ruslan gathered his whip and exited the room. The feeling of blood trailing down my back gave me something to focus on as I waited for my instructions. “You are strong, лшееут, but I had no doubt you could accept the pain. But let us see if you can accept the pleasure.”

Warm liquid dripped down the crack of my ass, then long thick fingers stroked my puckered hole. I knew what was to come—or at least I thought I knew. With a vacant stare, I waited for the head of his cock to breach my tight hole. Instead, it was met with cool metal as he twisted and pushed the butt plug inside me. Once the plug was seated deep inside my ass, he dipped on one knee to thread my legs through what felt like crotchless leather panties. Something hit my clit as he adjusted the contraption, and sweat broke out along my forehead as I realized what it was.

I was practiced in the art of escaping the pain, but I didn’t know if I could escape what was about to happen. I was proven helpless when Morozov flipped a switch, and the vibrator began to pulse against my clit. Gritting my teeth, I willed my mind to escape. I willed my body to obey me. When nothing worked, I forced myself to focus on the pain because if I could focus on the pain, the pleasure would fade.

My back and ass howled in agony as I tightened them, bringing the pain to the forefront of my brain. I smiled as I felt every sting, every pulsing lash. It was heaven.

I should have known better. The vibration against my clit became more intense, and when Morozov inserted a large silicone dildo inside my pussy, I knew I couldn’t avoid the orgasm that was already creeping along my spine. I could no longer clench my ass to bring on the pain because when I did, the walls of my pussy wrapped tighter around the dildo and pushed me closer to ecstasy.

“Stop! Please stop!” It was the only time I had called out, but I couldn’t give him this. I could not give him something I’ve only ever given to the man I love.

“Shh, pussycat. Give in to my gift. Let me soothe your pain,” Morozov cajoled and began to thrust the dildo in and out of my soaked canal. My body stiffened, and a ragged moan ripped from my lungs as he sped his movements. “Come for me, beautiful kitten. Come for your master.” As he quickened his movements, my body bent to his will. The orgasm I so desperately tried to lock down raced along my skin, and I came. I came at his command. Waves of bliss crashed over me with every pulse of my clit. My soul cried out in desolation as sobs of shame and betrayal were torn from my heart.

Each morning and night was met in the same way. First the pain by the hand of one of his men, then the pleasure at his own. I knew what he was doing. His men would hurt me, then he would “save me.” Any time my thoughts would drift to anything close to seeing him as my savior, I would bring just the briefest vision of Caleb to mind before locking him away again. When my treatment was completed, Morozov would bathe me and treat any of my wounds or bruises, all the while praising my strength and beauty.

Today was day four. My breakfast has been delivered and cleaned up, and I now sat, waiting for my treatment. But as the sun moved across the sky, no one came, and a tiny bit of hope reached into my heart. Maybe today, I would have a reprieve.

As hope billows inside me, the bedroom door opens. My breath stalls, then gushes from my lungs as Angelina steps in the room carrying my lunch of Schi soup, a traditional Russian soup made during cold weather months.

Angelina looked to be in her late fifties and doesn’t speak a word of English. Still, she will talk to me as though I understand every word she says. The stern tone in her voice tells me to eat my soup as she sets it just outside the bars, but her eyes betray her. She pities me. I have no doubt she knows I’m not in this cage as part of some kinky fetish. Some mornings she sat with me and prattled on in Russian, and I would eat my food and listen as though I knew what she was talking about. She would smile at me when I finished my food, then call me krasotka. I came to understand that it meant beautiful girl after she attempted to speak the words in English. She would teach me simple Russian words, then mime what she was saying, and I would do the same for her. I now knew how to ask the time, ask to go to the bathroom––in which my chain was extended to reach said bathroom––and how to say thank you. In exchange, I taught her how to say eat––her favorite order to give me—hello, and you’re welcome.

She places the soup in its usual spot in front of me but stumbles when she tries to stand. Her hands fly to the bars, and upon instinct, my hands reach out through the bars and grasp her shoulders.

“Ерфтл нщгб иуфгешагд пшкдю.” I recognize the word for thank you and respond in English.

“You’re welcome.” Before I can slide my arms back through the bars, Angelina grips my hand and presses something slim but sharp into my palm. She holds my stare for a moment, and I give her the slightest nod. She rights herself and runs delicate hands down her apron. Today, she doesn’t stay. Instead, she leaves me with the small steak knife that is missing its handle clutched in my hand.

Placing the small shank under my thigh, I begin to eat and subtly look around the cage for any place I can hide my new friend. The cage is up against a wall, and I can stick it between it and the cage. It will be difficult to get to in a pinch, but it looks to be my only choice.

Finishing my soup, I place the empty bowl back in its place outside the cell. Lifting myself up just enough, I grab the knife then lie on my side, head touching the bars. I slide my hand up as though to cushion my head from the cold steel floor, and with one swift, discreet movement, I stab the knife into the carpet outside the cage.

As my fingers graze the metal and confirm it’s firmly planted, I begin to imagine all manner of horrible things I could do with the knife. Each time the fantasy concludes with me standing over Morozov’s bloody corpse. I know I would be taking a considerable risk. Even if I could kill Morozov, how would I get past the guards? But would that matter? If Morozov was dead, at least my loved ones would be safe. I may die a brutal death—or worse—at his men’s hands, but at least the Marrons would be safe. Then there is the fact that Caleb is no fool. Whether or not he knows who took me, he would make sure everyone was locked down and guarded. For that, I have no doubt.

I sigh at the little bit of peace that flows over me at the thought, but quickly that peace is shattered as the door swings open, and Morozov comes flying into the room. His eyes glow with rage, and his lips are tipped up in a snarl. He speaks in rapid Russian and points to me with a large manilla envelope in his hand.

I swiftly sit up, scoot back against the bars, my fingers grazing the serrated teeth of the knife. Though my heart is racing like a hummingbird’s wings, I keep my face neutral. Morozov drops the envelope on the bed, then paces toward my cage. With a white-knuckle grip, he shakes the enclosure, my hands spring to my sides to steady myself, and I pray the knife hasn’t come dislodged from its home. The metallic rattling sound of the iron cage stops, and Morozov stares at me with a demented gleam in his eyes.

“You think he can save you? You think your prince will scale the tower and ride off with you?” he asks, sounding downright maniacal. “No, дшееду лшееут. Caleb Marron will die. Every fucking Marron will die, along with anyone who decides to help them. I will rape, torture, then slaughter the women. And I will make the men watch before cutting their heads from their bodies.”

My galloping heart suddenly stops in my chest, and a cold sweat coats my brow. Scrambling to my knees, I grip Morozov’s hands on the bars and beg. “Please, Master, no. You promised. You said you wouldn’t hurt the women if I obeyed. I have obeyed. I have taken the pain and the pleasure. Please.”

He removes his hand from beneath mine and drifts his fingers over my cheek. I nuzzle into his palm, trying to calm his fury. My eyes drift shut at his tender touch, then spring open when my face is pressed painfully against the bars, his hand gripping the back of my neck tightly. “You have not felt pain yet, my лшееут. This time you will be punished under my hand. This time you will be punished for your lover’s sins.”

“What do you mean? What happened?” I mumble, blood coating my tongue as my teeth are gnashed against my lip.

At my question, Morozov switches his hand to my throat then shoves me back. My back hits the bars hard, and I hiss as they hit the still open wounds from my whipping. “The day we arrived, I was told the Marron men were eliminated. One bullet to the head each.” He grips his raven hair and paces back and forth before retrieving the manilla envelope and dumping its contents on the bed. He holds up a photo, and my heart soars at the image before me.

Caleb’s handsome face graces the glossy photo. His strong, scruffy jaw is clenched tight, and his hair that is in desperate need of a cut hangs over one eye as he looks over his shoulder. My fingers twitch beside me, remembering what those silky locks felt like and how his short beard scratched my fingertips as I stroked it while we stared at each other with love and devotion.

“But look who Ruslan caught right here in Moscow?” When I give him a look of confusion, he continues, “Apparently, my man in Texas was not speaking under his own free will when he relayed the information of their deaths. And now I can’t even find the fucker to execute him like the dog he is.” He chuckles without humor. “I have underestimated your lover, it seems, but he has underestimated me if he thinks he can come after me. I have powerful people under my thumb, and I will have his head by morning.” He rips the photo in half at Caleb’s throat and approaches my cage. “Now, stand дшееду лшееут. It is time for your punishment.”

On shaky legs, I stand. I don’t reach for the knife because I need to bide my time. Caleb is here, and I have to trust he will find me. My instincts will tell me when to strike, and right now, they tell me to stand down. And even though I know the punishment I’m about to receive will most likely destroy me…I obey.

28

Caleb

Seven fucking days since Talia was taken. Though we were pretty positive Talia was taken to Moscow, I was still holding on to hope that she was still at Morozov’s Texas home. However, that hope died when my father reported that though the raid was successful and there were no casualties on our side, Talia was nowhere to be found. Most of Morozov’s men were taken out in cuffs, while some were taken out in body bags. Of the ones arrested, one of the snipers agreed to cooperate. My father offered him a plea deal if he immediately called Morozov and reported that they had successfully killed both my father and me. The man readily agreed and was now being held in a safe house.

After my call with my father, I contacted Holt Caraway––Jax’s contact in Moscow––who assured me he had a place for us to stay, weapons, and a highly qualified team at our disposal. Apparently, Morozov has been a thorn in their side for a long time, but he has been untouchable because of his political connections, a fact that had my stomach dropping to my feet, only to lift again when Caraway informed me that rumor has it that Morozov had recently pissed those connections off when he didn’t deliver the goods he promised. Now? Those very prominent men are out for blood.

Still, it’s taken seven days to organize a team, map out Morozov’s compound, and come up with the best plan to get not only Talia but our team out alive. I want to rage against every person who tells me to calm down, but I know they are right. I have to think logically right now, but I find it increasingly difficult when thoughts of what that maniac could be doing to my angel enter my brain.

“So, we agree the tunnel system is the best way to go?” Xander asks from across the war table.

“Right. As long as you’re one-hundred percent sure they’re not monitored. We can’t go in there only to be trapped like rats,” Caraway stresses, his hazel eyes sparking like wildfire in the fluorescent lighting. If I had to guess from the greying temples and small crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes, Caraway is in his early forties and no doubt saw some shit in his time with the marines. He is tall, built with solid muscle, and carries the aura of a disciplined soldier.

“Brother, I’m one-hundred and ten percent sure they are not monitored. From what we can tell, Talia is upstairs in the last room to the left.” He points to the blueprint of Morozov’s home. “Now, check this out.” Xander switches on the flatscreen, and we all look back at him when we don’t see anything but a blank screen. He rolls his eyes and takes out a bulky black suitcase with the M.H.S. logo embossed on the front. “These,” he runs his hands over the case like a man would stroke his lover, “are my most recent creations.” He opens the case, and we all lean in to see ten sets of glasses with clear lenses, and immediately I know what I’m looking at. Xander has had a hard-on for this particular invention of his since the idea came to him.

“Hate to break it to you, Brother, but we’re not going to be stuck in a sand storm,” one of the Moscow team members points out.

“These aren’t for eye protection. Well, not just for eye protection. Flip the lights?” Xander asks another member, and a second later, the room is plunged into darkness, only to be lit up by a bright green hue emanating from the T.V.

“Night vision,” Caraway smirks.

“Not just night vision.” Xander flips a switch on the glasses, and the room now glows with shades of red, orange, and yellow. “Night vision for the tunnel and infrared for entering the home and keeping your eyes out for hidden baddies. These babies are so powerful that when you get to the tunnel’s home entrance point, just turn on the infrared, look up and watch for the enemy.” The grin that stretches Xander’s face would be comical if not for the fact that the love of my life is currently in the hands of a madman. Still, I have to give Xander credit. This piece of tech is going to be our best weapon and our sure-fire way to get inside the house undetected.

“Well, I’ll be damned. That is cool as hell,” Caraway says in awe.

“Okay, so we have access, we have the chopper for backup, we have the weapons and manpower, and a plan. Am I missing anything? Or are we ready to get this show going?” I look around the room, daring anyone to tell me to wait for even one more second.

Caraway looks down at the blueprints, eyes searching, calculating. When he lifts his head, the cocky smirk on his face has my blood pumping and my adrenaline spiking, readying my body for the fight ahead.

“Curtains up at midnight, Brother.”

Music to my fucking ears.

Ten men, including myself and Tye, line the tunnel wall as we wait for Xander to give us the final go-ahead to proceed forward. Another ten men wait outside the compound walls, hidden and ready to back us up at the word go from any of us entering the home.

As we wait for Xander’s voice to sound over our comms, I think back to what my mother told me before we headed out.

“Caleb, you have to be ready for the worst.”

“Mom––”

“I don’t mean to put that worry on you, but I would be doing you and Talia a disservice if I didn’t say it. Honey. The Talia you know may not be there. Things may have… happened to her. You need to be prepared for that. And you need to decide if you’re able to accept what may have happened… or what Talia may have had to do to survive.” At her last statement, she cast her eyes down, and I don’t need to guess her meaning.

“I love her, Mom.” I hold my hand up when she goes to interrupt. “I understand what you’re saying. I swear I do, and I promise you that I will love and protect Talia for as long as she lets me.”

She lifts her petite hand to my bearded cheek. “It’s not about her letting you. It’s about the fear that will keep her trapped inside her own nightmares. She will need you, but it may not be in the way you want.”

I’m brought back from my mother’s conversation when Xander speaks through the comms. “The last check has been completed. Ublyudok still has the two snipers on the roof, five guards inside the house, and eight more circling the grounds.”

“Ublyudok?” I ask Caraway in confusion.

“The fucker,” he translates and rolls his eyes.

“And you’re good to go at Caraway’s command,” Xander says.

“Alright, boys, we go in nice and slow. We have a two-mile walk ahead of us. Perimeter team, you got IR on the area. Keep us posted on any shit coming our way.”

“Roger that.”

“Tunnel team, NV on. Let’s move.”

I click on my night vision and start to move behind Caraway as he leads the way. Tye is behind me with seven other guys watching our backs. The tunnel is narrow and looks as though it hasn’t been used in a while, which makes me think the tunnel was here before Morozov built the house. Shit, maybe the tunnel is why he constructed the modern-day Rubix cube he calls a house in this particular spot.

While the air outside the tunnel is like the fucking artic, inside, the air is warmer and stale with the smell of moist dirt and cedar from the planks framing the walls. Looking down at the GPS on my wrist, I see we’ve walked a little over a mile. Caraway lifts his fisted hand in a signal to stop, and I follow by signaling the men behind me, and we all know to switch on our IR. Once my eyes have adjusted to the change in color, I look up and begin to scan the area. Xander, you’re a fucking genius.

“Does that mean I get a raise?” Xander’s voice comes through my earpiece, and I realize I spoke the words out loud.

“Fuck off,” I retort.

“Don’t worry, Xander. You’ll get your raise. As soon as everyone comes out safely,” my mother interjects.

“Thanks, Mom. I always did like you more than your son.”

“Anytime, Doll.”

“Okay, could we be lovey-dovey later? I’m not seeing anything suspicious,” I say as I continue to look above.

“Me either. How about you boys? Seeing anything?” At Caraway’s question, eight no’s echo through the comms, and the perimeter team checks in again with an all quiet. We flip our glasses back to night vision and continue through the tunnel.

When we’re about fifty yards from the hatch that leads from the house to the tunnel, Caraway signals to pull our tranquilizer guns, and we proceed forward, our non-lethals in the ready position. We reach the hatch––that we know opens up to a basement––and switch our glasses back to IR. Scanning the basement above us, I can see the heat signature of the furnace, but luckily no bodies.

“Looks good,” Caraway whispers before signaling that he’s opening the hatch. When the old hinges creak, I wince, and every breath stills. Caraway halts his movement, then waits for Xander to give him the all-clear.

It feels like hours before Xander’s voice comes through our earpiece. “You’re good. Your position is right below the kitchen. You have two guards upstairs and one at the main door, one at the back exit, and one in the control room.” Bringing back the blueprint in my head, I remember that neither the front door nor the back door can be seen from the kitchen, so as long as we stay quiet, we should be able to maintain the element of surprise.

Caraway lifts himself up the ladder while holding the hatch handle securely in his hand as he brings the door down silently on the basement floor. He disappears out of sight, and my body readies itself—my pulse racing as adrenaline courses through my body. My core temperature rises, my palms begin to sweat to improve my grip, and my senses become sharper.

“All clear. Begin entry. Xander, report,” Caraway orders.

“The guards haven’t moved. You’re good,” Xander answers immediately.

“Perimeter team, report.”

“All good here, Boss. Fuck, these guys are boring,” Steven––the perimeter team lead––says, and quiet chuckles sound through our earpiece as we exit the tunnel one by one. We ascend the basement stairs and turn off our IR before entering the kitchen. Our movements are calculated, our steps silent as all ten of us take in our surroundings.

The house is dark except for the bright moonlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Caraway leans just outside the kitchen, and with a quick pull of the trigger, darts the guard at the front door. The guard grabs his neck and removes the dart before he locks eyes with Caraway. He opens his mouth to warn the others, but nothing comes out. When the guard stumbles, Caraway catches him before he knocks over an entry table and gives away our position.

He lays the man’s body right inside the entry coat closet, then signals for us to move forward. We split off, Tye and I heading to the stairs where we know two guards are patrolling. But we immediately stop when Xander’s voice comes through.

“The snipers are on the move. They’re headed inside. They will be entering the house right where guard one is stationed in the loft.”

“Fuck,” I curse under my breath.

“That’s not our only problem,” one of the perimeter guys says.

“Report,” Caraway orders into his comm mike.

“We have two SUVs approaching the main gate,” Steven reports.

“Copy that, perimeter team. You have two SUVs approaching, tunnel team—four occupants in each vehicle,” Xander confirms.

“Tunnel team, pull back.” At Caraway’s words, my heart stops, and every instinct tells me to charge forward––fuck anyone who stands in my way. “Don’t even fucking think about it, Marron. Pull. Back,” Caraway grits, knowing exactly where my head is at.

“I’m not fucking leaving without her.”

“We’re not leaving her. Get back to the basement so we can re-group.”

“Caleb. Come on, man. You know we can’t go charging in. You’re no use to Talia if you’re dead.” Tye pulls on my armored vest, and with a silent sigh, I follow him back to the basement.

“Talk to me, Xander,” Caraway directs.

“The eight in the SUVs are heading inside. They look to be more muscle, so either Morozov is getting paranoid, or he got word that we’re in Moscow. Either way, you have eight more guys to go through.”

“Shit. Okay, team, unfortunately, we can’t risk the tranqs not working fast enough with that many hostiles around. We’re switching to lethals.” Caraway looks at me and gestures to the pistol on my hip. “You good to use that?”

“You know I am. I showed you––”

“I mean, are you good to kill a man with it?” he interrupts, and I don’t hesitate with my answer.

“Yes.”

Caraway nods, then addresses the team outside. “Perimeter.”

“Go for, perimeter.”

“We’re heading back up. On my three count, tear down the gates of hell.”

“Roger that.”

Once again, we ascend the basement steps, and Xander is in our ear. “You have two about twenty feet from the basement door.”

“Alright, boys. One. Two. Three.” And with that, a loud explosion sounds from the direction of the front gate. Caraway swings open the basement door and fires two rounds, hitting both guards between the eyes.

“You done stirred the shit now. You have two coming your way,” Xander exclaims, a smile in his voice.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you’re enjoying this,” I accuse.

“You have no idea. I’d be there in person, watching your back, Boss Man, if you had let me.”

“I know you would have, but you’re watching all our backs this way.”

“Caleb. Tye. Head upstairs,” Caraway orders, and Tye and I jump into action, guns at the ready.

When we round the corner, a giant of a man steps in our path, quickly raising his weapon.

But not quick enough.

With a steady hand, I fire. The bullet hits him square in the chest. He stills and looks at me with wide eyes before dropping to the tile floor.

More explosions sound outside the house and Tye yells for me to continue to the stairs. “We got you covered down here. Go get Talia!” Tye yells over the surrounding gunfire.

After confirming my path is clear, I sprint to the stairs and make it to the loft when a steel toe boot barrels into my chest. While the steel plate in my vest takes most of the hit, I land hard on the hardwood floor. My breath escapes my lungs, and my gun goes flying. Seconds later, the brute whose boot knocked me on my ass is on top of me.

I take a punch to the jaw right before my lungs find air, and I headbutt the fucker. He stumbles back, and I quickly get to my feet. He lunges at me at the waist, and I use the angle to drive my elbow into his kidney then bring a knee to his stomach.

Though winded, he stands and prepares to attack again, but I’m ready. When he takes a swing, I block the hit and swing around with a roundhouse kick straight to his knee. It buckles at an unnatural angle, and the resounding crunch of bone brings forth a feeling of satisfaction that has my muscles coiling and a smile stretching my lips.

He bellows out in pain before screaming at me in broken English, spit flying from his mouth. “What you smiling about, shithead! All your men are going to die! For what? Pussy?” On the last word, he pulls a gun from his waistband, and using a move my mother taught me, I spring to the side and bring my palm down hard on the side of his gun hand, then twist his wrist back toward his torso. He grunts, and his grip loosens on the gun. Taking advantage, I grab the weapon from his grasp and put three bullets in his gut. He drops immediately, and it’s then I hear the faint scream coming from one of the rooms down the long hallway.

Within seconds my body is in motion, and I’m at the massive black door at the end of the hall. I expect the door to be locked, but when I twist the knob, it turns. I swing open the heavy door, gun drawn and ready, but my blood freezes in my veins the moment I step inside the room.

Talia. My beautiful Talia. My angel is naked, battered, and bloody. There’s not an inch of her porcelain skin that has not been marred by violence, and she has a large leather collar around her neck that connects to the side of a human-sized cage.

The moment I look into her eyes, I see that my mother was right. The Talia I know is no longer here. Her eyes stare off into nothingness, void of emotion, life…a soul. However, none of that is more terrifying than the gun pressed against her blood-matted hair.

“Ah, Mr. Marron. How wonderful for you to come and visit, but I am afraid you are far away from home. This is my country. I own this town, and its people––powerful people. You will pay for coming into my home uninvited.”

As he talks, I keep my gun level with his head and take a small step forward. “You sure about that? Word is you’ve pissed off a lot of those powerful people.” It’s slight, but I see the twitch in his jaw telling me the rumors are true. “And if you haven’t noticed, my people are leveling this hellhole you call a house. Now, let her go; we’ll get you a nice black jumpsuit and some new bracelets, then we’ll let the Russian government give you three hots and a cot. What do you say?”

Sweat begins to break across Morozov’s brow, and I can see the hand holding the gun to Talia’s head shake. The hairs on my arm stand on end, and I ready myself to take the shot, but before I can pull the trigger, he shifts Talia just enough to block the shot. I need Talia to move her head only an inch in the other direction. A fucking inch. That’s all I need.

“Talia, baby. It’s me, Caleb. I’m here, but I need you to focus for me,” I plead with the empty woman in front of me. The woman that I swear to spend the rest of my life making whole again.

Morozov laughs. “It is no use. This lovely creature knows her place. She is my pet. My beautiful pussycat.” He laves his tongue from her chin to her ear then bites the cartilage of her ear, a tiny drop of blood dripping from the wound. Talia’s brow furrows ever so slightly, but I see it, and it’s enough. She’s still in there. “Now, drop your gun, or I will be forced to paint the wall with her brains.”

Doing as he says, I lower my gun to the floor in front of me then stand. I stare into Talia’s eyes. Those Caribbean blue eyes. Those eyes that had me hypnotized the first moment I saw them from the dance floor two years ago.

The same eyes that were now focused on me. That’s it, angel. Look at me. See me. “Talia, I need you to come back to me.” She doesn’t even blink, and when I see she’s still locked in her own head, I make one last attempt. “I need you…Please, angel.” I know the moment the endearment penetrates the wall she has put around her mind. Her lashes flutter, her aqua eyes ignite with blue fire, and her cheeks pink with fury. Then everything seems to happen in slow-motion.

Talia’s hand raises, and a sparkle of light from the chandelier gleams against the knife in her hand before she plunges it into Morozov’s thigh. He howls in pain, and his grip loosens just enough for Talia to drop to the floor. My knee hits the hardwood, the gun is in my hand, and a split second later, I’m firing a bullet into Morozov’s skull. With wide eyes, he falls back against the cage, then slumps to the ground.

“Caleb! Caleb, baby?!” For a moment, I think it’s Talia screaming my name, but when I see her in a fetal position on the ground, I know it’s not her. “Caleb, please talk to me!”

“Mom. I’m fine. I’m good.”

“Oh, thank God. Thank God. What about Talia? Is she––”

“She’s alive,” I croak, then clear the lump in my throat. “She’s alive. I was only able to get the shot because she stabbed the bastard,” I say, pride lacing my tone. Pride for the strength this woman has shown. But soon, that lump in my throat returns. Choking me. “Mom. She… she’s in bad shape, Mom.”

“Get her here, Caleb. She’ll be okay. Just get her here.”

I wipe away the tears that soak my cheeks and crawl over to a now whimpering Talia, my heart breaking at the sound. “Talia…Angel.” I touch her shoulder, and it’s as though a wire is tripped. Talia rears back and punches me square in the jaw. I fall back to my ass, and she starts screaming.

“NO! Don’t fucking touch me! Get away! No more!”

“TALIA!” I shout over her words, trying to bring her back to me. I slowly begin to crawl back to her when she kicks out, barely missing my face.

“You’re a monster! Get away from me! Chudovishce!” I recognize the Russian word for monster. I remembered it from an old nursery rhyme we had to dissect for a literature paper my freshman year in high school, and I had to wonder. Is she still seeing Morozov? Or is it me she sees as a monster? After all, I did just shoot a man right in front of her.

She continues to scream at me, and I can’t help the sob that is ripped from my chest. “Angel,” I whisper and stare at her as she rocks side to side like an animal ready to attack.

“Tranq her.” My mother’s voice breaks through the fog of sorrow clouding my mind.

I blink away more tears before her words finally register. “What?”

“Tranq her, Caleb. You have to. It’s the only way.”

A chill runs along my spine at the same time my temper rises. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I don’t mean to curse at my mother. But fuck. What does she expect? She’s telling me to hurt the woman I love. To pierce her skin with a needle that will knock her out. “You want me to––”

“She can’t see you, Caleb. She’s trapped inside that world. She’s in self-preservation mode. I see it all the time with the women we rescue.”

“We need to get out of here, Brother. I’m pretty damn sure more of Morozov’s men were dispatched,” Caraway inserts, his disembodied voice grating on my already frayed nerves. “The tranquilizer won’t hurt her, and it doesn’t last long. Let’s get her back to the safe house.”

When I don’t answer, my mother continues, “Caleb, Baby. I promise I will help her. I will bring her back to you. But I need you to get her here as fast as possible.”

With a nod I know they can’t see, I stand and slowly pull the tranquilizer gun from my hip holster. I check the chamber and see it’s ready, and with a shaky hand, I point it at Talia. Tears cloud my vision before they track a path down my cheeks. Talia lets out a feral growl before she lunges for the knife still in Morozov’s leg, but before her fingers make contact with the serrated knife, I pull the trigger. Her body stiffens, and she turns large blue eyes on me, and I see sudden recognition.

“Caleb,” she breathes, then collapses to the floor. The inhuman bellow that wrenches from my throat warns all who dare approach to be very afraid. Because at this very moment, as the woman I love lays unconscious on the floor––bloody and bruised, a collar around her neck––something inside me shifts, and I become more beast than man.

29

Three months later

Talia

“Harder ladies! Hammer down hard! You are your biggest defender! Now push your body to its limit!” I yell over Hail Storm’s “Mrs. Hyde” as the women punch, knee, and elbow their grappling dummy. “It does not matter, man or woman. If they want you, they will try and take you. Do not make it easy on them!” I walk around the room and observe as the five women taking my class grunt and sweat as they throw punishing blows into their dummies. “And time! Great job, ladies. Complete your cool down, then head to your dorms.” The women stand and walk to the corner mats to cool off.

I start wiping down the dummies when the gym door opens, and Alexis Marron walks in, a wide grin spread across her face. “I’ve never seen so much furiousness from those girls. They were jumping at their own shadows not long ago. A few weeks in your class and they’re trained cage fighters.” She chuckles.

“Michael taught me well. I figure I need to pay it forward, right?” I say dismissively.

“Well, I appreciate you taking it on. I can only hope we’ve been able to help you as much as you’ve helped these girls.”

For the past three months, I have been a resident of Furious Hope. Ever since I woke up scared and disoriented in a safe house in Moscow, Alexis has been like a momma bear when it comes to my recovery. The moment we stepped foot in the house, Alexis led me to a soft bed, food was brought to me, and she stayed in my room with me for the first week. The woman couldn’t have gotten more than three or four hours of sleep those nights. I constantly woke with night-terrors, and I know for a fact she had to block a couple of punches that I threw her way. I kept seeing Morozov’s face smiling at me as one of his men beat me. Then I would feel the phantom pain of being violated with various objects as he used a vibrator to force me to orgasm. But the worst were the nightmares where I relived the night he dragged Angelina into his room and showed me exactly what would happen to anyone I cared about if I were to ever disobey him.

He shoved her up against my steel cage as I begged for her life, and when he saw me at my weakest, he slit her throat. Her blood sprayed across my face as her eyes went vacant. He then proceeded to tell me how it was my fault. That if I hadn’t befriended her, he wouldn’t have had to make an example of her. The physical pain he caused me was nothing compared to the feeling of causing an innocent person’s death. Granted––after three months of therapy five days a week–– I knew her death wasn’t my fault and ever bit Morozov’s, but there would always be that lingering doubt in the pit of my stomach.

The only other thing that compared to the pain of that night was that I couldn’t bring myself to see Caleb. My heart cried out for him the moment I opened my eyes in that Moscow safe house, but when he was brought into the room, his jade eyes turned silver. His shaggy brown locks turned jet black, and the sad smile he wore twisted into an evil sneer, and I reverted back to the animal I was in Morozov’s room. I haven’t seen him since––or any man for that matter.

Alexis and my therapist assure me that what I am experiencing is completely normal and will take time to heal. But no matter their encouragement, I can’t help but weep for the man I love. He is stuck with a woman who may never see him the same again. A woman he may never be able to touch. So I demanded Alexis tell Caleb to move on, and with each demand, she would comply only to return with the same answer. “Caleb said he loves you, and he’ll be there when you’re ready.” And each time, I would break down again.

Finally, after three months, I feel I am ready to go home. “You have no idea how much you guys have helped. I wouldn’t have made it on my own. I am forever grateful, Alexis.” I hug her to me, and she squeezes me tightly.

“Well, let me know when you’re ready to head out,” she says, excitement bubbling to the surface. Because today is not just the day I leave Furious Hope, but it is a day I take a massive step in my recovery, and I can only pray that everything I’ve learned stays with me.

“I’m all packed. Just let me take a quick shower, then we can go.” I grab my gym bag, but Alexis stops me with a hand to my bicep.

“Talia, you know you don’t need to rush this, right? He loves you, and he will wait for you.”

“I know, but I need to see him. I miss him. I just… he––”

She smiles in understanding. “I know. I get it. I won’t be but a phone call away if you need me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Alexis meets me at the front doors, and I nearly stumble when I see the tall, muscular man standing next to her––his back to me. My heart speeds, and my breathing hitches, but for the first time since my last night in Moscow, it’s not in fear. It’s in love, and as though the man senses my presence, he turns. But where I expected to see beautiful green eyes, I get blue.

Pierce Marron gives me a broad smile as he greets me with a handshake. “Talia, you look wonderful. I hope you don’t mind that I’m here. Alexis and your therapist thought it would be a good stepping stone.”

“Not at all, and I agree with them. When I saw you, I hoped you were him. That’s a good sign, right?”

“Absolutely,” Alexis agrees.

“If you’re ready. After you ladies.” Pierce bows dramatically and sweeps his hand out to open the glass door.

We pull up to Caleb’s house forty-five minutes later. I make sure to stay out of view of his gate camera while his father announces their presence. Pierce makes sure to park off to the side of the house so I have time to get out without Caleb knowing. After he helps his wife from the car, Pierce opens my door and extends his hand to help me out. Looking at the hand so much like his son’s, I take it and thrill at the lack of fear.

Alexis leads the way around the house, and Pierce trails behind her, making sure to keep me out of sight. When we round the house, I hear it. The voice that commands my heart to beat.

A swarm of hummingbirds takes flight in my stomach, and tears sting my eyes as he addresses his parents. “Hey, guys. What brings you here?”

“What? We can’t visit our son for no reason?” Alexis asks, then goes in for a hug.

“Of course. You guys are always welcome. I’m not sure I’ll be much company, though.”

“We’ll be honest, buddy. That’s why we’re here. We thought you could use the company,” Pierce says before he steps aside.

“Dad. Really…” Caleb’s words trail off as his eyes meet mine––electric green to ocean blue. We both stand there frozen in time, everything around us dissolving into the background. His eyes gloss with tears and my own trail down my cheeks.

When I can’t stand it anymore, my legs move, and I’m running into the arms of the man who saved me in more ways than one. I’m running into the arms of the man I love. As always, Caleb catches me, and my legs wrap around his hips as he squeezes me to the point I can’t breathe. But I don’t care because Caleb Marron is the very breath in my lungs. And as we stand there holding one another, my world clicks back into place. There is no fear. There is no uncertainty. Only strength. And like a phoenix from the ashes, I become the high-powered CEO, the girl who survived tragedy, not once but twice.

But above all else, I am his…

“Angel.”