Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart (11 page)

Chapter
Two

Rebecca wrung her damp hands together and
tried to wrestle her nerves into submission as the small plane cruised through
the cloudless sky. It wasn’t so much that she hated flying, it had more to do
with what waited for her when they landed on the private island. But since her
friends had gone to so much trouble to put this package together for her, and
she truly didn’t want to disappoint them, she couldn’t very well say no and let
it go to waste. Which was why she was currently flying over the Atlantic Ocean,
on the way to some sordid sex club. That, of course, didn’t mean she had to
partake in any of the resort activities, whatever they might be.

She glanced at her suitcase, and
relaxed a tiny bit, knowing her files were tucked safely inside. Maybe the
weekend wouldn’t be so bad after all. She could hole up in her room and get some
work done and her friends would be none the wiser.

Pushing back into her seat, she
looked at the ground below then stole a glance at the pilot negotiating the
skies in front of her. He was a big man, with broad shoulders and hard body—one
that filled out his dark flight suit rather nicely thank you very much—and gave
her something to think about other than her final destination. She perused his
profile, but with his hat pulled low and pair of dark sunglasses covering his
features, she couldn’t identify his face. She studied him a moment longer, and
felt a niggling in the depths of her stomach. There was just something about
him that felt familiar—something that reminded her of Quinn Montgomery—but she
knew it was well below the stature of a man who ran a multimillion-dollar
company to be flying a customer to a sex resort.

She turned and stared out the
window for the remainder of the trip and when the plane finally landed, she
looked around, detailing the small island fringed by the cold waves of the
Atlantic. The makeshift runway was surrounded by lush foliage, and off in the
distance, high on a hill, she spotted an impressive estate. Although upon
closer inspection, it looked more like a millionaire’s summer home than a
lavish resort where hedonist activities took place. And if this was a sex
resort, where was everyone? The place was empty. Not a single vacationer to be
found.

She leaned forward and tapped the
pilot’s shoulder, certain he’d made a mistake. But when he unbuckled his
harness, opened the cockpit door and climbed from the plane, the niggling in
her stomach grew to a full blown case of panic.

What is going on?

The pilot widened the door even
more, and with every nerve in her body on edge, she remained seated. She
straightened her back and said, "I think there’s been a mistake."

"There’s been no mistake."

Her heart jumped into her throat
because the second he spoke, the second she heard that rich deep voice, one
that evoked a myriad of sinful thoughts and had her mind whirling back to the
trial of Quinn Montgomery, she knew her day had just gone from bad to worse.

"What’s going on?" she
demanded, steeling herself as alarm flashed through her.

Mr. Montgomery removed his hat and
glasses, and when she caught the intensity in those shrewd, dark eyes, a fine
shiver moved through her, and much to her dismay she found it most difficult to
hold his steely gaze.

"Welcome to Montgomery estate,"
he said, his tone low, controlled as he opened his palm to her. "My summer
home."

Refusing to accept the offered hand,
she forced herself to level him with a stare and climbed from the plane on her
own volition. Even though he was dressed in a flight suit, everything about his
demeanor screamed of sex, sin, seduction…long hard spankings.

Okay, where the hell had that
thought come from?

Exasperated with the way he could
affect her without even trying, she fished her phone out of her purse and held
it high. She checked for a signal, then cursed silently. Her mind raced to her
friends and their final warning last night. Truthfully, even if her phone
worked here in the middle of nowhere, she knew her calls would go unanswered.

Don’t come home until you’ve had
at least a dozen orgasms
.

Without conscious thought her
glance drifted to Mr. Montgomery’s hands, and her mind took that second to
think about what they’d feel like on her skin, touching her, stroking her,
bringing her to orgasm again and again. Oh God! Her entire body flushed and
there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to stifle the tortured moan crawling out
of her throat. Just standing next to a man who could undoubtedly divide and
conquer with a simple look had her feeling edgy, out of control, completely at
his mercy.

He took a measured step closer and
as his presence dominated the wide expanse of island, and threw her off her
game, she worked to summon a modicum of composure and asked in her best
professional voice, "What do you want?"

He cocked his head, his glance
leisurely moving over her face. "Relax, Ms. Andrews, you’re not in the
courtroom anymore." His smile came slow. "You don’t get to ask the
questions here."

Her towered over her, and with a
stance that was both commanding and authoritative it became abundantly clear
that here, on his private island, she was now playing in his territory, by his
rules. No longer was she the one calling the shots.

Oddly enough, equal mixtures of
excitement and apprehension trickled through her and elicited a shiver from
deep within. What the hell was going on with her?

"I’m not going to hurt you if
that’s what you’re worried about."

"I’m worried about a lot of
things," she countered, shading the hot, morning sun from her eyes while
trying to hide her reactions from him.

The muscles along his jaw flexed. "And
that is why you’re here, Ms. Andrews." Everything in the slow, calculated
way he spoke did the most peculiar things to her libido.

Tension grew in her body and her
thoughts raced to catch up. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Silence hung for a long time, her
flesh growing hotter with each passing second, although she suspected it had
little to do with the blinding rays beating down on her. "It’s time to
stop worrying and let someone take a few decisions out of your hands."

"Someone? Let me guess, that
someone would be you?" she shot back.

Anticipation moved over his eyes
when he answered with, "Of course."

She swallowed. "And how do you
plan to do that?"

"You’ll see," he said,
the slow, promising way he drew out those two little words hinting at something
wickedly intimate.

She sucked in a breath. "And
what you’re going to
see
is the inside of a prison, because this––"
she paused to wave her arm around the isolated island "––this is
kidnapping."

"Kidnapping?" He rocked
on his feet like he was mulling that over. "I suppose if that’s how you
want to look at it, then yes, it’s kidnapping." He held his hand out. "Now
shall we?"

She jerked away from him. "Now,
we shall not. You can take me back home right now." Folding her arms, she
rooted her feet, refusing to budge.

The corner of his mouth twitched––
twitched
,
like he was laughing at her. "Don’t worry, Rebecca. I won’t make you do
anything you don’t want to do."

Oh God, the rich, sensual way he
said her name, the leisurely way it rolled off the tip of his tongue with such
heat and hunger filled her with need and excited her in ways that didn’t make
sense, considering he’d just kidnapped her and planned to do God knows what to
her.

I won’t make you do anything you
don’t want to do
.

His amusement vanished. "Now
why don’t you come inside, and have something cool to drink. You’re flushed."

"It’s hot."

He arched a brow, skepticism
flashing in his black eyes. "Perhaps," he said.

Just then Rebecca spotted a
middle-aged man coming their way, and her pulse leapt with hope. Maybe she
could plead her case, tell him she was being held against her will, and he
could call for help, get her off this isolated island. But when she glanced
back at Quinn he had a knowing looking on his face.

"There are three
loyal
members of my staff here, and they answer to me only." He waved a hand. "That
is Michael, and he’s here to attend to your needs during your visit."

"What I need is to get out of
here," she said flatly.

Ignoring her he continued, "You’ll
also meet Ester, my cook, and Mario, the grounds keeper."

Michael nodded his head and greeted
them both, then proceeded to grab their luggage from the plane. "Right
this way, ma’am," he said, gesturing toward the foliage lined path leading
up to the grand estate.

Deciding to follow, and hoping
there was a landline inside the house, she pushed past Mr. Montgomery and stayed
close to Michael as he led the way. Once inside the opulent, airy home, the
cool air conditioning refreshing against her hot skin, she searched for a
phone.

As she panned the living space, she
took in the huge floor-to-ceiling windows lining the back of the house, and the
magnificent view of the ocean below. Michael disappeared up the wide staircase
with their luggage in tow, and Rebecca stepped forward, needing to put a
measure of distance between her and the man whose mere presence had the ability
to warm her blood quicker than a double vodka martini.

She examined the expensive
sculptures and artwork lining the walls, making note of the dark, creamy
leather furniture and polished marble floors. Even though his summer home was
grand and lavish, there was still something inviting and homey about it.

She felt him step up behind her,
the warmth of his body weakening her knees as he placed his hands on her hips. "You
can roam at your leisure, Rebecca," he murmured into her ear, causing the
fine hairs along her neck to bristle. "The truth is, I’m not going to keep
you captive."

She turned to see him, but wished
she hadn’t. Sexual tension arced between them, the air around them charging.
She fought to recover her voice and asked, "So I
can
leave?"

"If you want to get off, you
can get off." His voice dipped lower, became much deeper when he added, "But
that will require you to stay."

As she caught the sexy, double
entendre, her mouth opened and closed, hardly able to believe what she was
hearing.

His smile turned predatory. "But
you need to know that staying means following my orders."

She swallowed hard. "Look, I
know what this is about. You’re upset with the outcome of your trial and you
brought me here for revenge."

"That’s not what I’m after,"
he said.

"Then what exactly is it that
you want from me?" She braced herself for the answer because every
instinct she possessed told her revenge was exactly what he was after, and he
planned to make her pay for his losses…but payment wouldn’t come in the form of
cash. No, it would come in another form all together.

The muscles along his jaw flexed
and his black eyes shimmered when he said, "Total and utter submission."

Oh, God, the price was higher
than she’d ever anticipated
.

Her mouth opened, closed, and
opened again, and while there were so many things she wanted to counter with,
all she could do was croak out a heated moan.

"If you decide to stay, all
decisions will be taken away from you." He waved a hand. "Here you
don’t get to ask questions or decide on anything."

Her limbs grew weak, and an
unexpected lick of heat prowled through her body, settling itself deep between
her legs.

"Michael will be back in a
moment to collect you. You will follow him to your room, and put on only the
clothes I picked out for you. Nothing more, nothing less. Then you will join me
for brunch on the terrace. It’s a beautiful day to eat outside, don’t you
think?"

Rebecca just stood there staring,
her mind still processing. He wanted her to put on clothes that he picked out
for her? Then meet him for brunch? Was he kidding?

Indignant, and unable to believe
what he was suggesting, she drew in a quick breath to refuel her addled brain
and said, "If you think I’m going to wear clothes—"

"It’s not a suggestion."

As blood drained to her toes, she forced
her chin up. "I thought you said you’d never make me do anything I didn’t
want to."

"That’s correct."

"Then I don’t want to wear
clothes you picked out for me." She gestured to the professional pantsuit
draping her body. "I have my own clothes."

He stepped closer and her heart
leapt as his heat and scent overwhelmed her. "I’m a patient man, Rebecca.
But we only have the weekend. And it’d be wise not to push my patience too far."

"I am not—"

"Disobedience comes with a
price."

Her heart hammered. "A price?"

"I’ll be forced to punish you
until I have your compliance. Understand?"