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

  “Why don’t you meet with him tonight and ask him? He wanted to know if you were coming. He had his office call.”

  I flush even hotter and shuffle some papers on my desk. “He probably wants to discuss the merger.”

  “Maybe he does. Or maybe he’s interested in ‘merging’ in more ways than one.” She hops off the desk and shimmies her hips, singing, “bow chicka wow wow.”

  “La la la, I can’t hear you.” I laugh, covering my ears. Then I close my eyes as she continues grinding. “Or see you.”

  She smacks me on the shoulder and I drop my hands. “You know you love me.”

  I roll my eyes. She’s right, though, I do. Even when she’s Rachel The Tease. “I don’t have time to date.”

  “Okay, okay.” She holds up her hands. “I’m just saying. You’ll have friends there. I know you don’t realize it, but you have people who care about you. You don’t have to do this all alone.”

  I nod and plaster on a smile. I appreciate the sentiment. I really do. But she doesn’t know what it was like growing up the way I did. My life has never been normal and I accepted it a long time ago.

  “That reminds me,” Rachel goes to the mini fridge and starts rummaging. “Your father sent something for your costume.” She wrinkles her nose and pulls out a crown of glossy dark green leaves. “What is this?”

  “A laurel wreath.” I smile. “Dad usually wears it. Laurel leaves for Dr. Laurel—get it?”

  “No, I would never have gotten that,” she deadpans.

  I laugh at her sarcasm. “I guess he wants me to wear it for him. And it’s a quarter to four which means I have three hours to get ready.” I scrub at my aching eyes. “This is going to take a miracle.”

  “Fortunately, you have me. Today, I’m your fairy godmother. And we have no time to lose.” She claps her hands. “You shower. I’ll make you tea. Don’t bother drying your hair. The stylist will be here in twenty minutes. When he’s done, I’ll do your makeup.”

  “Sounds good.” I yawn.

  “Oh don’t do that, you’ll make me tired, too. Now, you told me you already got a costume to wear?”

  “Yes! I had a dress custom made.” I walk to my small closet at the back of my office and open the cabinet with a flourish.

  Rachel’s mouth drops open. “What. The. Hell. Is. That?”

  Two

  Beast

  I sip from my champagne glass and narrow my eyes at the ballroom before me.

  The bubbles explode on my tongue and I want to spit the liquid out on the floor at the glittering high heels of a passing socialite. She glides by, joining a group of others just like her: beautiful people dressed in expensive finery.

  I used to think these people were merely vapid and useless. Now I know the truth. No one who can afford to be in this fucking room is blameless. The rich and powerful became that way by stepping on the necks of the less fortunate.

  The place is huge—a cavernous ballroom laid out under several story high columns. The room is full with a vast and glimmering sea of people, each new face more beautiful and powerful than the last.

  Once, I bought into it. Less than a decade ago, I came to a function a lot like this, so full of a young man’s idealism. My whole life ahead of me.

  All those dreams are bitter ash in my mouth now.

  Who I was doesn’t matter anymore.

  Only who I am now.

  Tonight, I begin. I will re-balance the scales of justice. I guard the entrance to the ball, still as a gargoyle. No one looks my way as I study them through the eye holes in my mask.

  Everyone’s wearing masks tonight. The rich and famous pretend to be gods, their hypocrisy and arrogance never more fully on display. And I’ll beat them at their own game. I won’t lie or cheat or try to manipulate.

  I’ll be exactly what I am.

  The monster they made me.

  A trio of women dressed as Muses openly stare at me. I glare in their direction; they turn away, their laughter giddy as champagne bubbles. An insipid chorus, the perfect soundtrack for this awful event.

  Then I see her. Dr. Laurel’s brilliant daughter.

  She’s more beautiful than ever. Her skin is so radiant and flushed with youth. Even from across the room, her eyes sparkle. She’s full of life and mine have never been more of a mockery than in this moment.

  My hands ball into fists even as I wonder:

  Did she like my rose?

  Three

  Daphne

  Every year, the rich and famous of New Olympus gather at the Parthenon for the Autumn Gala. Every year—but one—I’ve dressed up like a princess and floated up the red carpet on my father’s arm, only to spend the night lurking next to the wall. The perpetual wallflower.

  The spacious ballroom is full with a vast and glimmering sea of people, each new face more beautiful and powerful than the last.

  My stomach roils. Should’ve eaten more. I lean against a gigantic column bathed in green light, doing my best impersonation of a wallflower. Just part of the scenery.

  “Quite a sight, aren’t they?” a smooth voice murmurs in my ear. I nearly leap out of my skin, whirling to face the suave-looking gentleman who emerges from the shadows. His face is handsome, striking, with warm, tan skin and dark brows. His mask is no more than a thin black ribbon, the perfect setting for his black eyes.

  “W-what?” I stutter.

  “The constellations.” Without looking away, he sweeps a hand at the ceiling. I look up and my mouth drops open. The entire ceiling is swathed in dark blue fabric dotted with tiny lights meant to resemble stars. “A clever use of fairy lights.”

  He studies the ceiling, his profile limned in shadow. He’s prettier than I am. Most of the men here are.

  I steady myself. I belong here, just the same as him. Even if I don’t feel like it. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Worth the thousand dollar ticket?” He raises a brow.

  I narrow my eyes. “I know you.” The name flashes in my memory. “Armand!” I’ve met the flashy spa magnate several times at galas like these. He’s close friends with the Ubelis. Stylish, charming, and usually up to mischief of some sort or other if the rumors can be believed.

  “The one and only.” He bows.

  “You haven’t changed a bit,” I blurt, then wince, wishing I could control my mouth. But he only laughs.

  “Thank you, darling. You know how to flatter a guy.”

  “It’s true.” He looks the same as he always has, other than a touch of grey at his temples. “Not everyone can pull off a jacket like that.”

  “Shall I return the favor? Not everyone can pull off a…shall we call it a dress? like that. Now who or what are you supposed to be?” He pulls out a monocle and peers through it, studying me like a strange bug under a magnifying glass. “Green fabric with brown at the edges. And is that…bark on your bodice?”

  I stifle a groan. “I’m Daphne of the myth. She turned into a laurel tree.”

  “Hmm,” Armand murmurs.

  “I was trying to be clever,” I mumble.

  Two beautiful women traipse past us, one blonde, one brunette. Both dressed in togas that hug their butts and plunge between their breasts. Sexy Aphrodite and Slutty Athena. The blonde flutters her fingers at Armand. He smiles but gives a small shake of his head, and she turns away with a pout.

  Rachel was right. Dressing like a tree was a mistake. I hold my chin up, pretending I don’t care.

  “You are clever, darling.” Unbelievably, Armand turns back to me. I wrack my brain for what I know about him. Owner of a chain of spas, a top fashion line, and hair and skin treatment products shipped all over the world. “I would expect nothing less from you…Dr. Laurel.” He tweaks my leafy crown of laurels.

  “Oh, call me Daphne. Dr. Laurel is my father.”

  “Daphne.” He inclines his head. “How is your father?”

  “Much better, thank you,” I repeat the company line. His stroke is common knowledge, widely reported, much to the
board’s dismay.

  “And you, the youngest CEO in New Olympus.” Armand is back to studying me with his monocle. “Perhaps ever.”

  “Not quite. Adam Archer claimed that title when he took over Archer Industries for his father.”

  “But that was years ago. Now you ascend to the throne. I wonder if Adam will be jealous.”

  “Not of me.” I blush.

  “Mmmm,” Armand purrs, tucking the monocle away. “I think you underestimate yourself.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re here, aren’t you? Young, beautiful, successful.”

  “Acting like a wallflower. Which is fitting, because I’m dressed as shrubbery.” I spread my hands to present my sartorial faux pas.

  Armand’s laugh lights tingles up and down my spine. I don’t mind his flirting—I know I’m not his type—but he certainly is handsome.

  “We can’t have that, beautiful Daphne. Come.” He takes my hand and draws me away from the column. My options are to protest and make a scene, or follow.

  I choose to follow. “Where are you taking me?” My stomach rumbles. I put a hand over it, mortified.

  Armand pauses. “Perhaps I should get you something from the buffet?”

  “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly. I’m afraid I’ll spill something on myself. I get clumsy when I’m nervous.” Then I slam my mouth shut. Argh, must engage brain before talking! This is why I shouldn’t socialize.

  But Armand only chuckles. “Very well.” He draws me into his embrace. “Do you dance?”

  “Not really.” My limbs are wooden.

  “Sway with me then.” His eyes mesmerize me, and I grow supple in his arms. “That’s it.”

  At one end of the ballroom, a full piece orchestra plays a jazzy version of the Sleeping Beauty waltz. Armand leads me smoothly between the other dancers. My full skirt swishes satisfyingly around Armand’s lean legs. Okay, well this isn’t too hard.

  “We make a perfect pair,” he tells me, and I almost believe him. Heads turn as we pass. For a moment I close my eyes and imagine I’m the beauty in the arms of her prince.

  “There,” Armand murmurs in my ear. “You’re not a wallflower anymore. No one can take their eyes off you.”

  I draw back, my cheeks in full blaze. “Thank you. You’re very kind.”

  He lets me out for a twirl and I follow his lead, giggling.

  “You’re welcome, my lady. But there’s something you should know.” He leans in close to whisper, “I am never kind.” He pulls back and I get a glimpse of the calculating look in his dark eyes.

  Tingles run up and down my spine, but I relax. In the past few months, I’ve dealt with more deceit and machinations than in my entire lifetime. And that’s just dealing with Belladonna’s board of directors. All in a day’s work for a CEO.

  I meet his gaze straight on. “So you’re acting for your benefit?”

  “Always. But not only mine.” He promenades me past a beautiful blonde in a silvery sheath. The Gala sponsor and hostess, the famous Cora Ubeli, standing in a receiving line of guests. Armand cuts through them and jerks his chin at me. I try to restrain my wild blushes. Cora gives me a gracious wave and smile.

  “See?” Armand murmurs, twirling me away. “You’re the belle of the ball tonight.”

  “Me?” I laugh. “No way.”

  “I’ve heard nothing but rumors about your intelligence, your wit, your beauty.”

  “Stop it.” My cheeks burn even hotter. “I’m just a scientist.”

  “On the cusp of great discoveries.”

  “I hope so.” I bite my lip. “But no guarantees. Most scientists try their whole life to make one life changing discovery. “

  “Is that why you’re seeking the merger with Archer Industries?”

  I stiffen in his arms. “What do you know about that?”

  “Just what the papers report, bella donna.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “No? I’ve always wondered why your father named his company after a poisonous flower?”

  “He named it for my mother. Her name was Isabella. And she was beautiful.”

  “The original Bella Donna. I see.” We whirl together for a few more beats before he adds, “She passed her looks to you.”

  “Thank you.” Must. Stop. Blushing.

  The song ends. We break apart and clap. Now that the room has stopped spinning, I notice the throngs of people staring at us, studying me behind their masks. My own Greek chorus.

  I shiver. Armand smooths his hands down my arms as if to soothe me. Up close, I realize there’s more to his costume than the monocle and red velvet jacket. A pair of silky wings are folded against his back. Black to match his eyes.

  “So, what are you?” I ask, fighting to keep a grip on my calm. “A fallen angel?”

  “Hermes, of course.” He leans in and kisses my cheek. “I even have a message for you.”

  “A message?”

  “A warning. Tonight you’re Daphne, from the myth?”

  I nod shakily.

  He dips his head close and whispers in my ear. “Beware Apollo.”

  “Daphne!”

  I whirl in the direction of the shout. A crowd of toga wearers parts like a white sea. And there he is, striding towards me, dressed in white from collar to shoes, a crown of golden leaves on his head.

  Adam Archer.

  He’s golden and handsome and I think about all the things Rachel said earlier. About how the outings we’ve been on were actually dates.

  “Adam,” I greet him, holding out my hands. To my dismay, he brings them to his mouth and kisses my fingers. Does this mean Rachel was right? Or is he just being overly chivalrous?

  “Daphne. You look so beautiful.” His teeth flash, white as his tux. A few feet away, Aphrodite and Athena sigh and strike a pose, their assets on full display. But Adam only looks at me. My heart flutters.

  “A-and you look handsome.” I free my hands and press fingers to my lips. I worked hard to lose my shy stutter. But all my intelligence flies out the window whenever I’m with Adam. And then I realize the fingers on my lips are the ones he just kissed and my cheeks flame all over again. It’s good I barely put any blush on since my cheeks are going to be a perpetual rosy red.

  Adam really is the handsomest man in the room. White blond hair, a sculpted profile and body of an Olympic athlete. The gods wept when they made him.

  And he’s at least the tenth richest man in the room, I hear Rachel’s whisper, like a devil on my shoulder.

  I turn to introduce Armand, but he’s disappeared completely, as if he’s flown away. Just like Hermes.

  If Adam is wondering why I’m looking around, he doesn’t show it. “I missed you, darling,” he draws me close. My eyes catch on the tiny golden lyre pinned to his lapel. Beware Apollo.

  I blink and focus on Adam, who’s still talking. “I called your office to see if we could ride together.”

  “Sorry.” I’m blushing. The only way my cheeks could get redder is if I turned inside out. Breathe. Remember to breathe, dammit. “I must’ve been in the lab.”

  “Poor, sweet Cinderella.” He draws me onto the ballroom floor. “Once our companies merge, you won’t have to work so hard.”

  His hands—they’re on my body. Intimately touching me. Well, more intimately than I’m usually ever touched.

  His right hand rests on my waist right above the curve of my hip like he’s held me there every day of his life. Even Armand wasn’t so bold. Adam’s left hand holds my hand in a commanding grip as he guides me across the floor.

  “I-I don’t mind it.” I struggle to get my tongue back in order. “I mean, I like the lab. I like my work.”

  “I know you do,” he soothes. “Your board tells me you barely leave Belladonna’s basement.”

  Wait, what? “They do?” I bristle. Who’s been talking to him behind my back? “They shouldn’t be talking about me to outsiders—”

  “But I’m not an outsider, a
m I, sweet? I’ve been an ally of Belladonna since the beginning. If my father hadn’t wanted me to take over Archer Industries, I’d be in the lab with you, just like in the olden days with your father…speaking of whom, how is Dr. Laurel?”

  “He’s fine.” The rote response pops out of my mouth.

  Adam says nothing, just keeps looking at me. And I crumble, sagging in his arms.

  “I don’t know,” I whisper as a fist tightens around my chest. Yes, tonight is weird with both of us in these fancy clothes in this super fancy place, but this is Adam. He was one of my father’s beloved students. A protege.

  So I tell him the truth. “Dad’s not getting better. The doctors wanted to start PT weeks ago, but he’s still so sick.” My voice trembles.

  Everywhere I look, members of Olympus society stare at me. Vultures, all of them. Sharks sensing blood in the water.

  With a reassuring murmur, Adam guides me to a corner of the room, snagging a glass of champagne from a server’s tray.

  He offers it to me and I shake my head. I never drink, never partied in college. I’m a lightweight, and I haven’t eaten anything.

  “I insist,” Adam presses the glass to my lips until I take a gulp. “There, that’s better. I’ll take care of you.”

  My shoulders soften. Of course he’s right. Adam’s not an outsider. My father thinks of him as a son. I used to think of him as a brother—

  “Sweet Daphne,” he brushes a curl out of my face. “All grown up.”

  I flush from forehead to cleavage. I don’t think I can deny any more that Rachel was right. Adam doesn’t think of me as a little sister, not anymore.

  “Don’t worry about the merger. Or the board. I can handle them.”

  I draw in a breath. “Thank you, Adam. But I’m CEO now. I should—”

  “I’m more than happy to take on all duties as CEO, so you can spend all your time in the lab. If you choose to live there, that’s fine. As long as your nights belong to me.” He winks.