Captured Boxed Set: 9 Alpha Bad-Boys Who Will Capture Your Heart (72 page)

My cheeks flamed and I wiped the
screen of evidence that despite his and my father’s best intentions, I’d
managed to find a man interested in talking sex with me. I couldn’t wait to be
in private to respond. Kite seemed more…open. Maybe we could talk about real
things and not just dirt.

"Nothing."

Vaughn scowled, then a large grin
brightened his face. "Guess how many orders?"

My brain couldn’t switch from
wanting desperately to respond to Kite to normal conversation. "Orders?"

He threw his hands up. "Seriously!
Your collection. Sometimes I worry about you, Threads." Still grinning, he
added, "Your Fire and Coal collection has orders from all major retail
chains in Europe and America, and the couture line is currently in a bidding
war for exclusivity between a London boutique and Paris." He bounced with
happiness—infecting me with energy. "I told you this was your break. You’ve
cemented your name.
Nila
will be worn by celebrities around the world at
their red-carpet premieres."

He lowered his voice. "You’re
your own, sister. You’re more than just a Weaver. You’re
you
, and I’m so
damn proud of what you’ve achieved." Twin intuition had always been
strong—showing just how much he understood without me ever having to voice it.

Tears sprang to my eyes. Vaughn
didn’t get sentimental often, so his praise was a well-placed dagger in my
self-control. This time I couldn’t stop the smile breaking through my defences
or my heart glowing with accomplishment. "Thank you, V. That means—"

"Nila."

I spun around to face my father.
Instead of the grin and look of love I expected, he stood cold and fierce. My
stomach tensed, sensing something was wrong. So, so wrong. It was the same look
he got whenever he thought of Mum. The same look I’d grown accustomed to hating
and running from.

"Dad…what—" He wasn’t
alone. My eyes trailed from my father’s pressed tux toward the tall, svelte man
beside him.

Holy hell, who on earth...

Thoughts died like windless kites,
littering my mind with silent dumbness. He was a stranger. But I felt as if I’d
seen him before. He was a mystery. But I sensed I already knew everything about
him. Two extremes…two confusions.

"Nila, I want to introduce you
to someone." My father’s jaw ticked, hands clenching into white-knuckled
fists. "This is Jethro Hawk. He’s a big fan of your work and would like to
take you out tonight to celebrate your success."

I wanted to rub my eyes and have my
hearing checked. Since the day of my birth, my father had never introduced me
to a man.
Never.
And he’d never lied so obviously. This man wasn’t a fan
of my work—although he did have incredible fashion sense. He had to be a male
model with his height, envious cheekbones, and perfectly styled salt-and-pepper
hair. His white skin was flawless—no wrinkles or blemishes. He looked ageless,
but I guessed he was late twenties, early thirties despite his greying hair
speaking of wisdom far beyond his years.

His hands were concealed in pockets
of a dark charcoal suit with a cream shirt open at the throat and a diamond pin
piercing his jacket lapel.

"Tex, what are you—"
Vaughn’s voice was quiet but possessive. Eyeing up Jethro, he stayed polite by
offering his hand. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Hawk. I appreciate your interest
in my sister’s talent, but my father has it wrong. Tonight she is unavailable
due to a family commitment."

I would’ve smiled if my stomach
wasn’t knotted as the two men assessed each other.

Jethro slowly took my brother’s
hand, shaking once. "Pleasure, I’m sure. And I, in turn, can appreciate
your interest in keeping your prior agreement with your sister, but alas. Your
generous father has allowed me the enjoyment of ruining your plans and stealing
her away." His voice whispered through my gown, sending goosebumps down my
spine. His accent was English, same as mine, but slightly more clipped. He
sounded posh but rogue at the same time. Refined but uncouth.

My brother wasn’t impressed. His forehead
furrowed.

"I hope that isn’t going to be
an issue, Mr. Weaver. I’ve heard a lot about you and your family and would hate
to upset you." Mr. Hawk’s eyes landed on mine, capturing me in a cage of
golden irises and effortless power. "However, I’ve heard the most about
your sister. And I have no doubt it will be a pleasure knowing her."

I gulped. No one had spoken to me
like that—especially in front of my
father
. Who was this man? Why did
his very existence fill me with hot and cold and awareness and fear?

"Listen here," my father
blustered. I tensed, ready for the outrage I knew he was capable of, but his
lips snapped closed and the fire in his gaze didn’t erupt. Swallowing hard, he
finished, "I presume my obligations are complete?"

Jethro nodded, a lock of hair
brushing his forehead. "You presume correctly."

Fear evolved to panic. Obligations?
My God, is my father in some sort of trouble?
I clutched his sleeve. "Dad.
The show’s over. Let’s go for that drink." I glanced at Vaughn, cursing my
fluttering heart and the mix-match of emotions colliding inside.

My father pulled me close, pressing
a single kiss on my cheek. "I love you, Nila, but I’ve kept you to myself
for long enough. Mr. Hawk has asked if he can take you out tonight. I agreed.
Vaughn and I can wait till another time."

He didn’t say—
only if you want
to, of course
. It sounded more like a sentencing rather than freedom to
date. Why this man? Why now?

Vaughn moved closer. "Tex, we
already had plans. We can’t just—"

My father glared at my brother, his
gaze weighty with unsaid anger. "Plans change, V. Now give your sister a
kiss goodbye. She’s leaving."

"I am?" I took a step
backward, clutching my phone. There was no denying Jethro Hawk was good looking
and seemed to be successful judging by his attire, but if I was allowed to
date, I wanted Kite007, not this cold outlander.

"You are." Jethro held
out his hand, his gaze noosing me tighter in their golden cage. "I’m
taking you somewhere special."

"She isn’t going anywhere with
you unless she wants to, dickhead." Vaughn puffed out his chest, placing a
hand on my lower back. "Tex—tell him."

My eyes flew to my father. What
existed in his gaze sent frost crackling through my blood. His lips were tight,
eyes bright and slightly glassy. But his cheeks were dark with rage. He
glowered at Mr. Hawk. "I’ve changed my mind. Not tonight."

Vaughn huffed, nodding in
agreement. The thick soup of male testosterone choked my lungs.

Jethro smiled coolly. "You’ve
given me your word, Mr. Weaver. There are no rain checks." Aiming his
sharp smile my way, he purred, "Besides, Ms. Weaver and I have a lot to
discuss. It’s time we got acquainted and tonight is the night."

"Excuse me while you all fight
over me. But what about what I want?" I crossed my arms. "I’m tired,
overworked, and not in the mood to entertain. Thank you for your interest, but—"

"No buts, Ms. Weaver. It’s
been arranged and discussed. You will come with me because it’s the only way
your night will end." Jethro lowered his head, watching me from beneath
his brow. "I promise you’ll have a good time. And I mean you no harm…do
you really think your father would permit me to take you out otherwise?"

 Coldness etched his gaze.

Aloofness whispered from his
posture.

Calculation radiated from his every
pore.

I’d never been so intimidated or so
intimately challenged.

My father might have permitted
this, but he didn’t condone it. Somehow Jethro had achieved the unachievable
and convinced my father he was dateable material. If he could manipulate
Archibald ‘Tex’ Weaver, I didn’t stand a chance…and yet…despite the arrogance
and chilly façade, he intrigued me.

My father had kept me captive my
whole life. This was the first man to stand up to him and grant a glimmer of
freedom.

The fear disappeared, leaving a
flicker of interest. If this was the only man I could spend an evening alone
with, I would take it. I would practice my non-existent flirting skills and
grow my confidence so I could ask Kite007 out again. And next time, I wouldn’t
take no for an answer.

Sucking in a gulp, I placed my hand
gently into Mr. Hawk’s. His touch was as cold as his demeanour and just as
strong. I froze as his fingers tightened around mine, tugging me forward. "Good
decision, Ms. Weaver. I look forward to getting to know you better."

My lungs dragged in his scent of
leather and woods. Words deserted me.

The show disappeared along with my
worry and thoughts of Kite007. Gone was the urge to return to an empty hotel
room. This man was pure danger, and I’d never sampled anything but safety. "And
you, Mr. Hawk," I murmured.

My date smiled, transforming his
face from handsome to ruthless. "Please, call me Jethro." Changing
our grip from handshake to handhold, he pulled me forward—away from my family,
away from the men I’d known all my life, and toward a future I had no
understanding of.

Vaughn’s hand fell from my lower
back.

I didn’t look back.

I should’ve looked back.

I should never have placed my hand
into that of a monster’s.

That was the last day of freedom.
The last day that was my own.

Individuality and uniqueness—those
two words were so precious once upon a time. I’d been brought up with a gruff
but fair father and a brother who I would marry if it wasn’t incest, believing
I was unique, different, never before created.

I hated being lied to.

I hated even more believing those
lies until the truth decided to come for me.

Turned out, I was never an
individual; I was a possession to trade.

I was never unique; someone had
lived my life many times before, never free, never whole.

My life was never mine.

My destiny was already written.

My story began the night he came
for me.

IT WAS TOO easy.

I’d stolen her right before her
father and brother. I’d taken her with no blood shed or bones broken.

Power wasn’t threats or uncivilised
fighting. It wasn’t brawn or hard-won arguments.

Power was holding something so
absolute, a man would do what he was told—all the while cursing your very soul.
True power wasn’t wielded by gangs or even loudly-spoken governments.

True power.
Limitless
power—only graced a fair few. It gave those lucky few the ability—the nobility,
to be courteous and polite. All while holding their fucking balls in their
hands.

Archibald Weaver was one such
example.

I shook my head, disbelieving how
the so-called enemy of my family handed over his only daughter. The same
daughter I’d seen in tabloids as a rising star of designers. The same offspring
who was never photographed with a man on her arm or seen sneaking out of a
restaurant with a hidden lover. He’d wanted to kill me. I had no doubt he would
try
to kill me.

But he would fail.

Just like he failed to protect her.

Because he had no fucking power.

All it had taken was two sentences
and Nila went from his to mine. A thrill ran down my spine, remembering the
rush when I’d tapped him on the shoulder. His dark eyes had been cool but
welcoming, believing I was a stranger there to congratulate. That all changed
when I handed over a black-flocked business card and said, "The time is
nigh to pay your debts. Your past has found you, and there will be no peace
until she’s ours."

His eyes went from cool to glinting
with horror and rebellion. He knew everything I did. He knew there was only one
thing he could do—no matter that it would break his heart.

This was his fate. Her fate.
Their
fate. It’d been written and understood the moment he’d knocked up his wife.

He knew the consequences, and he
also knew the power we controlled. No matter his unwillingness and terror,
there was no other course of action.

Without a single word, he’d marched
me to his daughter and placed her life in my hands. I hadn’t believed my father
when he said it would go so smoothly. After all—none of this made sense. But it
had. And it did. And now…it was all on me.

My education had begun a month ago.
I’d been told of my upcoming duties, given history lessons of past debt
collections. But I was as new to this as her.

We came from generations
interlocked in the same untieable way.

Now, it was our turn.

And we would have to learn
together.

I glared at my conquest. Letting her
hand go, she glided beside me wrapped in darkness. I didn’t need a physical
claim on her now that she was outside—alone. Was it trust in her father’s
judgement guiding her feet or stupidity?

Either way, I would be the last
person she would ever see.