Read CAPTOR (The Alpha Brotherhood) (Standalone Dark Billionaire New Adult Romance) Online
Authors: Ember Chase
CAPTOR (The Alpha Brotherhood) (Standalone Dark Billionaire New Adult Romance)
Captor
Ember Chase
Copyright © 2015 by Ember Chase
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.
Table of Contents
Zoey
“Come on, answer the phone…” It rings six times before going to voicemail. I won’t bother leaving another one.
The positive pregnancy test I discovered in the bathroom trashcan should have been my first clue. Honestly, it was my first clue but I didn’t want to admit it. It’s taken around 500 unanswered phone calls and three full days of not seeing my roommate to build up the courage to look inside the coffee can hidden underneath the couch.
The threadbare carpet scratches my knees as I crouch down. Daniela stole the emergency stash of money I keep in my sock drawer, but she’s done that before and usually pays me back. Okay, there’s no chance I’ll ever see that hundred bucks again, but I keep it there just in case she needs it anyway so it doesn’t really matter. The fact that
it’s
gone doesn’t necessarily mean
she
is.
This is the real test. I carefully reach around the rusty spring that always scrapes my hand whenever I check how much money is in this ridiculously inadequate container. At least I finally learned that lesson. The moment I pry it free from its hiding place, I know that it’s empty and my pulse spikes as my stomach drops. There was six thousand dollars in there the last time I counted. At the rate they’ve been selling, it would probably be up to nine by now.
Just in case my hand isn’t measuring the weight correctly, I pop the lid off and stare down into the reflective metallic surface that seals my fate. It still smells like money and coffee, but there’s nothing inside. It’s official. Daniela is gone and I am majorly screwed.
“How could you do this to me?” My lips tremble as I whisper into my empty apartment. I guess I should get used to talking to myself again.
There’s no point in panicking. Maybe she took the money to its rightful owner, her scumbag, on-again off-again “boyfriend.” Maybe she ran over to his house to tell him that she was carrying his child and couldn’t do this anymore. They could have spent the last three days cuddling and arguing about baby names while he feeds her peanut butter on pickles or whatever strange combination of food she’s craving. It’s unlikely, but it
could
happen.
Yeah. Peanut butter and pickles. That little fantasy should keep me calm long enough to get through my exam today. I’ll still fail miserably of course, but that would have happened even if Daniela was giving herself a pedicure while she slacks off all day on our couch that’s worth $9,005 dollars because we’re too cheap to buy a real safe. Or maybe we’re just too stupid. That’s probably more accurate.
I hear footsteps outside in the hallway and stand on my toes to get a glimpse of whoever it is through the peephole, but I can’t see anyone. It’s probably not my landlady, she always wears these chunky heels that make a very distinctive clopping sound, but it could be one of her sons and I’m sure they want to talk to me. That party Daniela threw last weekend was completely out of control. Technically, well according to the owners of this apartment anyway,
I
threw the party even though I spent the evening locked in my room so no one would steal my stuff or have sex on my bed. I’m the only one on the lease and Daniela isn’t even supposed to live here.
My eyes drift over to the framed photograph of the two of us that I keep near the door. I was twelve, she was ten and it was a really fun summer. We almost felt like normal kids. Obviously, I should have kicked her out a long time ago, but I know I’ll regret it which is why I keep this picture here even though it feels like I barely know her anymore. We don’t really have much in common. She’s been using me in more ways than one the entire time and I let her because she had nowhere safe to go. No good deed goes unpunished.
The get-your-ass-moving alarm I have set on my phone beeps loudly. It’s 7:55. Shit. I guess it’s time to bite the bullet and step into the hallway because if I don’t, I’ll miss the train and my test. Somehow I’d probably manage to score higher if I didn’t even show up to take it, but I don’t give up that easily. I studied all night like I always do, but it just isn’t clicking. I
suck
at organic chemistry, and it gets worse the harder I try. But hey, miracles can happen right?
The sound of a jackhammer reminds me of another hurdle in my morning commute as I step onto the sidewalk and inhale a breath of not-so-fresh city air. Crap. I should have left earlier so I could walk around the block and avoid this construction site, but it’s been so long since anyone has actually been here working that I’ve been getting lazy about that. Figures that everyone is feeling industrious the day I’m running too late to change course.
Normally there are so many catcalls erupting from the workers, but today they are strangely absent. I suspect it has nothing to do with my oversized coat and more to do with the well-dressed man in the center of all the activity moving with a calm authority, clearly judging every detail of their progress. If he’s been watching this place as long as I have, he’s probably pissed. This apartment building has been torn up since the spring and every time I walk by, there are more men idling than there are laboring.
I typically quicken my pace when I pass by, but I find my steps slowing instead to get a better look at whoever has the power to make these guys so productive. I wonder if he knew where he was going when he decided to wear those shoes and that suit. Maybe when you have that much money, it doesn’t matter if it gets torn to shreds as long as it’s obvious that you’re in charge. The site manager follows quickly behind him with a clipboard and sweat on his brow, but the boss doesn’t seemed impressed in the slightest, his expression bordering on a scowl.
To my surprise, the overdressed man glances at me, doing a double take. At first I assume that’s my cue to mind my own business and get the hell out of here, but then his lips part as his eyes widen. He’s actually cute when he stops frowning. More than cute. He’s downright handsome and now he’s walking toward me.
I swallow a knot in my throat as our eyes lock. He squints at me for a moment and then blinks a few times, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m really here. I won’t be for long. I’d be gone already if I could get my feet to obey my brain’s orders to start walking. His head cocks to the side as he strides closer, glancing at the workmen surrounding him. They all practically hold their breath as they continue working, but he ignores them, his attention apparently fixed on me.
I continue doing an impression of a deer caught in the headlights as he reaches over the fence. As soon as his fingers graze my cheekbone, my pulse spikes and I flinch, stumbling backwards. That snapped me out of it. My eyes fall to the ground and I turn, taking the first of many steps toward the train.
“Wait!” he calls after me, but all it does is inspire me to walk faster. I don’t care how hot he is, that was weird. “I said wait!”
Is he going to jump the fricking fence? I stop, my curiosity getting the better of me. “What do you want?”
“I need to know your name.”
“None of your business,” I reply, even though I kind of want to tell him.
He breathes out a laugh. “Do you live around here?”
“Maybe I do.” I guess this is a good opportunity to file a complaint about the ridiculously dismal progress of this eyesore. “Are you the guy that owns this place? Because your crew is a bunch of catcalling assholes and they hardly ever work, which is probably why nothing gets done.”
“So I’ve been told.”
“And a lot of the people you kicked out wanted to move back in. It was supposed to be finished a year ago, and now I read that it’s turning into condos? Have you, like, done
any
research on this neighborhood? It needs more safe, affordable housing. Which is what got approved when this all started.” Wow, I’m talking a lot.
A wide grin crosses his face as he runs his hand through his hair. He is
incredibly
attractive. “I’ve just acquired the project. Would you like to get together and formally voice your concerns? Over dinner, perhaps? I’m always eager to hear from helpful citizens such as yourself.”
Then why did you just glance at my boobs?
And why do I want to say yes? “I don’t think so, buddy,” I reply, pretty much my standard ice queen response for whenever I get asked out on a date.
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Usually I say yes to that follow up, it makes it easier to reject a guy. But I can’t make the words come out of my mouth. “Good luck with your renovation. You’ll need it.”
“I don’t give up that easily,” he says, reaching over the fence and wrapping his fingers around my forearm.
“Hey!” My heart drums in my chest as I try to pull away. He takes his phone out of his pocket and snaps a picture of my face. “What are you doing? Let me go.”
“What is your
name
?” he snarls, locking eyes with me.
I’m summoning the courage to tell him to fuck off or scream when one of the workmen calls out for help. Everyone starts shouting, but the sound of metal twisting and wood snapping overwhelm their voices. The top level of a scaffold drops to one side, setting the entire contraption off balance and it starts to tip. It crashes to the ground as the man before me curses and lets go of my arm to run toward the wreckage. The rest of the workmen get there first and I decide to take off because the last thing my morning needs is images of dead and broken bodies. But I hesitate, just like the overdressed man looking over his shoulder at me, like he’s trying to decide which way to go. The hair on the back of my neck stands up and I get the strangest sense of déjà vu.
“
Doors closing
.”
I hear the automated train conductors’ voice announcing my last chance to make it to school on time as I’m running down the wooden platform. That’s what I get for taking the time to argue with a random wealthy housing developer. Thankfully, the doors fly back open at the halfway point, probably because someone on another car is standing too close or making a late exit, but I don’t have time to look because I’m too busy slinking inside and sighing in relief.
The train pulls away and I can’t help but grin about finally catching a break. The sound of the steel grinding against the rail is so comforting. This is my favorite part of the day. After checking the seat for gum, I plop down and pull out my organic chemistry textbook for some pointless last minute studying, but I can’t stop thinking about Daniela.
She’s
pregnant.
God, she’s not even nineteen yet. Best case scenario, it’s the scum of the earth’s baby, but hell, it could be some random hookup’s.
Stop it! Peanut butter on pickles. Giggling and cuddling and picking out baby names while I’m studying for my test. The IUPAC name for isobutane is methylpropane.
What is she going to do? I can’t help her. Well, that’s not really true, but I’m
not
going to help her because I’ve been scrimping and saving and risking
everything
to get ahead and I’m not starting over at square one to bail her out of yet another mistake.
Peanut butter and fricking pickles! Molecules that have internal mirror planes are always achiral. The approximate H—C—H bond angle in methane is 120 degrees.
Guilt tears me away from my studies. I shouldn’t have thought that. Babies aren’t mistakes. But they are really expensive. And if I let her stay, I’ll probably end up taking care of the kid while she goes out and parties because she is in no way ready or willing to grow up yet.
Geez! The sum of all bonding electrons and non-bonding electrons on a given atom in the 2
nd
row of the periodic table will never be greater than 8. Exceptions: Hydrogen and Lithium both have 1 Valence Electron and Beryllium has 2.
I wonder how far along she is. She cracked a joke about her period being late and getting fucked hard in more ways than one a couple months ago, but she never said anything else about it so I figured everything was okay. There’s no way I’ll be able to let her stay, but how can I toss her out? I couldn’t do it last month or the three before that. Maybe I should just move myself. My lease is up in two months. I can probably find someone looking for a roommate and move into their place. Then it wouldn’t be my fault.
Grrrr! Peanut butter and… Ah, screw it. There’s no use cramming for this test at this point and I’m totally distracted. Daniela is probably in Mexico with her family by now and I’ll never see her again. Which would suck, but it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if it weren’t for that empty coffee can.