The Billionaire's Secret Kink Box Set: Knox: Secret Alpha Billionaire Romance Bundle (Rosesson Brothers Book 1) (2 page)

"I better get back to..." She cocked her head back the way she had come and Knox nodded, letting her off the hook, for now. He'd follow her in a few moments, see what the situation was.

"I'll come introduce myself to your fella in a minute," he said slowly, his voice pitched low, seductive.

"Oh good. Ok then." She gave him a nervous half-wave and turned to walk away. Knox watched her go, knowing her cheeks were heating as she felt his eyes on her. He could see it in the new tension in her hips. She passed through the throngs of people, and when her lower half was blocked from his vision, his eyes crawled the crowds again, looking for his brothers or Darcia. He'd probably missed the explosion. But no one had yelled or screamed or cried or thrown anything, so there must not have been much to miss.

For the second time that evening his wandering gaze was caught by a woman. Knox paused in the act of lifting his drink to his mouth, his eyes locking on the brunette standing alone in another corner, nervously shifting her feet.
Her!
Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn't her. This woman was too tall, and her cheekbones were shaped differently. But the same gentle demeanor seemed to accompany her, even from all the way across the room. Her lips twisted in the same perpetual pout that made him want to kiss them, taste them, devour them.

Studying the woman in the corner made Knox's mind wander to that night on the train ten years ago for the first time in months. To the sweet, soft woman who had yielded herself to him so completely. To the last woman he'd ever trusted. To the night of tender, consuming passion that every experience he'd had since had been measured against.

Oh Rachel, he thought for what felt like the millionth time. What happened to you? Why didn't you listen to me? Where are you? Alive? Dead? Do you ever think of me?

He watched the mystery woman, thinking about those stolen moments so many years ago and wondered if his life would be different if she hadn't disappeared. If he would have had a chance to get to know her. To bring her home. To protect her. To learn her secrets.

Maybe he wouldn't have so many secrets of his own right now. Maybe there would be more to his life than his current, twisted view.

Knox put his drink down on a table and crossed the room to the brunette, Brindi all but forgotten.

The brunette wasn't Rachel, but she looked enough like her that if he tried hard enough, maybe he could recapture just a little bit of the magic from that night.

Mica

Mica Nichols sat straight up in her bed, nervous energy already filling her. She blinked her eyes and looked around the room. Everything seemed to be in its place. Soft sunset light shone in through the window. She'd pulled an all-nighter the day before, trying to prepare for her runway show in a few days. She did that often when they got close, especially when things started going wrong, like everything seemed to have yesterday. She'd worked all night on last minute alterations, preferring to do her creative work at night anyway, less distractions. She let her assistant take care of the administrative work during the day. She hated dealing with people when a show was coming up.

She'd made it till 10 that morning, then stumbled home to fall into bed for a few hours of sleep. Now she would head into work, meet with Justin for a few hours, finalize whatever she could, then try to get back on a bit more of a normal schedule.

Mica turned to the nightstand next to her bed, her eyes traveling along the gun safe. A war raged inside her.

Take the gun? Leave the gun?

She got up and used the adjoining bathroom, giving herself more time to decide, then returned and stared at the gun safe. Sighing heavily, she slid her fingers into the grooves designed to read her fingerprints. She jumped slightly as the door popped open, revealing the cold, deadly steel.

Mica reached in and took the gun, then walked to her bedroom door and unlocked it, hating not feeling safe in her own house. It wasn't right. If there was anywhere that she should feel completely safe, it was there. But the bastard had ruined that for her. Shattered any sense of security she'd managed to build up over that last decade.

She hated him for it. Hated him like fire. She almost wished he
would
show up inside her house so she could kill him herself. Would she ever feel safe again until he was dead? Probably not.

She'd been foolish to think she'd ever been safe from him, and on some level she'd always known it. That's why she'd taken the gun classes, and the karate classes. Not that she had a chance against him without a weapon. He was too huge. Too mean. Too strong. Too insane. But still, the karate classes made her feel she could at least go down fighting.

Mica padded down her hallway, her eyes swinging left and right, looking in every room. The house felt empty. Good. She held the gun at her side, liking the weight of it, the deadly reminder of it at the end of her hand. But who was she kidding? She'd trained to fire the gun, but shooting at paper targets and tin cans was nothing compared to putting a bullet through flesh and bone. Would she even be able to do it if it came down to that? She shivered, hoping she never had to find out. But then her mind rebelled. If she never found out, just how exactly was this ordeal going to end? Maybe Dick would just drop dead of a heart attack? Or laugh and say,
just kidding! I don't really want to terrorize you until you break and give me every cent you've ever earned!
Not likely.

Sighing, Mica entered her kitchen, all the lights already blazing. She hadn't turned a light off since this all started. She peeked behind the door and around the corner of the L-shaped dining area. Empty. Quiet. Maybe she should get a dog. That might make her feel safer. But she'd been through this before. She flew to San Francisco and stayed in her townhouse there at least twice a month. She couldn't take the dog on the airplane. Not a big dog anyway. The drive from Seattle to San Francisco was twelve hours. Way too long. No dog.

Satisfied she was safe for the moment, Mica placed the gun gently on the counter, grabbed a sparkling water out of the fridge and walked to her message machine where two messages blinked up at her. She twisted the top off her bottle and took a long swallow while pressing the button for the machine with her other hand. Her assistant's voice boomed out at her.

"God Mica, I can't believe you still have a message machine, much less a home phone. Join the new millennium already."

Mica smiled. Justin always gave her a hard time about her home phone. Every time he couldn't get her on her cell and had to leave a message rather than text her he complained about it. Luckily, he was the best assistant she'd ever had, so he could get away with it. He was also one of the best friends she'd ever had.
One of the only friends you've ever had
, her mind amended for her. Mica ignored the voice in her head and listened to the rest of the message.

"You better get in to the office as soon as you can. Diamond Talent pulled out of Tuesday's show and forty reams of fabric have gone missing from storage. The spangled stuff. I'm working on a new agency but I can't guarantee I'll have one lined up by tonight. Call me when you get up."

The beep sounded abruptly. That was Justin's way. He didn't like message machines so he wouldn't say hello or goodbye. He just hung up.

Mica finished off her water and threw the bottle in the trash as her ancient message machine cycled to the next message. So much for food. She'd get dressed and head into the office and pray that Justin had already found a new modeling agency. Her new fall line was being introduced at the runway show on Tuesday and she needed at least forty seasoned models to walk the runway. There was no way she was going out there herself again, or sending men out in the women's clothing like they'd had to do one memorable season.

The message machine beeped again and Ruth's smooth, cultured voice filled the room. "Darling, I've just seen the fall line. You've outdone yourself this year, kiddo. I always knew I'd picked the best person for the job, even when everyone else thought I was crazy. I know you have a show next week but make sure you get enough food and sleep. Don't neglect your health like I did. Enough with the lecture. Call me when you can. But not too soon. I'm flying out today to the Bio Surge Spa in Bangaluru, India. They have a new treatment there they guarantee will reduce the size of my tumors by more than half. At eight thousand dollars a night, it better do something. Ciao, bella, and kiss some boys for me."

Mica smiled and headed to the fridge for a yogurt. Yogurt counted as food, even if it was 6:30 in the evening. Ruth was right, if she didn't take a few moments right now, she wouldn't eat all night. Her body needed fuel. She wished Ruth well and said a small prayer that the treatment Ruth was heading from France to India for would indeed help her. Ruth deserved a few years of health and play. She'd worked hard her entire life, building Marshal Fashions from the ground up, and only when she'd been diagnosed with colon cancer had she finally decided to take her money and relax. She'd appointed Mica CEO and president of Marshal Fashions and left the country, hoping to leave her illness behind.

Mica grabbed a spoon and dug into her yogurt, smiling at the memory of herself as a brand new CEO. She'd been twenty-four and scared to death, especially since all the stockholders and employees had crowed about what a poor decision it had been. Mica had almost had a mutiny on her hands. Ruth had supported her the entire way, convincing everyone to just give her a chance. She'd been Ruth's assistant for four years before that and was the only one who knew how all the pieces of the company fit together. And now, four years later, Ruth was still gone, and earnings had gone up by over two billion dollars in that time. Mica didn't love fashion, but she was good at it. She had an eye for it. A flair for knowing what would work and what would be hot. That was enough for her, for now.

The last part of Ruth's message played over in her mind.
Kiss some boys for me.
Yeah right. She hadn't kissed anyone in over a year, and her awkward attempts with her last, short-lived boyfriend hadn't resulted in anything worth talking about. There was something wrong with her, and she knew it. Some bitter, broken piece that didn't let her trust, open up, be vulnerable. Fear was her only bedtime companion these days. Especially since Dick Bailey had found her again.

Mica finished her yogurt, grabbed the gun off the counter, and race-walked to her bedroom, shoving the thoughts aside. She didn't have time for any of them. She shoved the gun back in the safe, then pulled on a black sheath dress, belted it, added the lowest heels she could find plus some silver jewelry, then ran into the bathroom to fix her hair and face, and put the colored contact in her right eye. A low, loose bun and some red lipstick later, she ran back down her hallway to grab her purse and head out to her car.

Mica pushed open her garage door and stepped down the first step, directly onto something that shouldn't have been there. Dread burst through her lungs, replacing all the air that had been there a moment before.

Mica took a step backwards and looked down. The garage was gloomy, shadows climbing every wall, trying to pull her gaze to them. She snapped on the garage light and took a quick look around, then dropped her eyes back to what she had stepped on.

A wooden toy train sat on the step. Her heart began to beat madly in her chest. He'd been in her garage. Somehow, he'd gotten in, then gotten out while she slept. He was toying with her. Enjoying this. Nausea pushed at her throat. She'd never asked for this. All she ever wanted was to be left alone. To be a normal person.

Mica stared at the toy for several long moments, hearing the beat of her own heart pounding in her ears. Her dread only grew, strengthened, became a living thing that threatened to engulf her.

She squatted, not wanting to touch it, but having to know. She picked up the toy and turned it over in her hands. It looked handmade and hand-painted, blue with black trim. On the bottom were two words. Two words that caused a tear to leak from her eye and travel, unnoticed down her cheek to her chin.

Not enough.

Daxton

Daxton Rosesson wandered idly through the grounds of his father's mansion. The night had proved to be a bust. Darcia wouldn't even look at him, rolling her eyes and running the other way every time he tried to get close to her. He would have loved to see her throw a temper tantrum over his shirt, but she hadn't obliged him. A few women had smiled at him, but none had come up and actually asked him about his big cock. If they had, he could have pulled the shirt up and showed them the rooster on the other side. He loved shit like that, even if no one else ever thought it was funny. Well, his brothers thought it was funny. He could always get a laugh out of them.

Other than hoping to provoke Darcia, he had no reason to be here. He and his father weren't speaking, Bronx was away on assignment, Phoenix was kissing every ass he could, and Knox would take care of all the networking that needed to be done for the company. He might as well go home.

But home was quiet. Too quiet. Maybe Knox would want to hang out afterwards. They could make popcorn, watch movies, drink beer. Knox had been around for that kind of brother bonding shit a lot lately. Daxton knew he was taking forever to get over Darcy, but fuck! He had thought she was the one. The one he would marry. The one who would have his babies. The one he was going to grow old with. But she'd had other plans. He'd found her with her lips wrapped around his buddy's cock in the front seat of her car, behind her office building one evening. Fuck her and fuck him. He'd be happy if he never saw either of them again in his life.