Page 9

9

CONRAD

Everything is collapsing.

I’m a wild beast, foaming at the mouth, suffering with desperation, possessed by a singular, desperate goal: find Belle.

I searched the whole pier and couldn’t find her. I called her countless times, but it goes straight to voicemail, and every time I hear her recorded voice, a distant ghost of the real thing, it’s like a venomous sting to my heart.

She’s sharp. She used her little challenge back there with the punching machine as a ploy to get me to take my eyes off her for a split second, and in that second, she made her escape.

I should have expected it. I never should have turned my back on her.

My lungs are on fire from sprinting up and down the pier. I went back to the manor and checked every room under the pretext that I was just doing a final inspection for any possible explosives. So what if I drew some strange looks from the staff? I don’t care. All I care about is finding Belle. Now.

She wasn’t at her parents’ house either, but that didn’t surprise me. She knows I’m looking for her and that would be one of the first places I’d check. So it makes sense she wouldn’t be there. I nearly swerved off the road into her neighbor’s fence when I peeled out and pulled an aggressive U-turn to head back to the pier. There’s still a small chance that she found a shadowy place to hide and wait until she felt it was safe to leave.

But when I return and begin marching up and down the boardwalk, more and more people start throwing strange glances in my direction. I feel rabid, out of my mind, and I must look it too. If I keep this up, it won’t be long before someone calls the cops on me–if Belle hasn’t already.

But she wouldn’t do that, would she?

She has every reason to.

I lied to her, ruined her wedding, stalked her, and she knows it all now. She must be terrified of me. But how could she be? She must know I would never hurt her. I might never let her leave my sight again. I might keep all other men from laying their filthy eyes on her, but I would never hurt her. Not my girl. My angel.

Panting like a dog, I stare up at the stars and think: where else could she be? If she rented a hotel around here, it’s going to be pretty much impossible to find her. There are far too many to check, and no desk clerk is going to tell a madman man like me if she’s checked in. She couldn’t have called Fitch, could she? No. No way. Besides, if she were at the room I set up for him, one of my guys would have called to alert me.

I find it hard to believe she’d go to the cops on me, but just in case, I speed over to the station, my heart flaming with every beat. If she’s already inside, I won’t be able to get her out of there. I guess I could try pretending she’s a friend of mine in the midst of a manic episode and I need to get her home, but the cops would never buy that. In fact, that would just get me into more trouble.

I’m on the verge of breaking down completely as I pull up on the opposite side of the street from the police station. Gasping for breath, I lift my sniper scope to my eye and peer inside, but all I see is a bored uniformed man messing around on his phone.

A slight sense of relief passes through me, but it’s instantly washed away by the distress of still not knowing where my angel has disappeared to.

I scratch a red patch into my skin as my anxiety levels peak.

“Belle!” I shout, slamming my fist against the dash. “Where are you!?”

My phone vibrates in my pocket, startling me like I’ve just been hit by a taser. I pull it out and see the call is coming from a blocked number. I answer instantly without thinking. “Belle?”

Wrong answer.

That was a mistake.

If it is her, I now sound frantic and potentially dangerous. If it’s someone who knows Fitch, they’ll be wondering why Belle is not with me. I could have just cost myself everything from my lack of restraint.

“No,” a distorted male voice says from the other end. Am I losing cell service? “Conrad, I’m just calling to let you know…that a second bomb threat has been called in.”

“What!?” I nearly explode. A second bomb threat? How can this be? The first wasn’t even real; it was fabricated by me. And Barry was just some weirdo looking for attention. So who is this? My body goes cold with dread. Have I created a copy-cat? “Where? Who is this?”

I’m shouting so hard my lungs feel like they’re peeling out of my chest. My head is spinning as I try to put together what’s happening.

“The hotel room you rented for Belle, sir,” the voice responds. Instantly, I slam on the gas and peel out, causing the officer inside the station to glance up from his boredom. Hopefully he doesn’t get pissed and get my plate. This is not the time to have the cops on my ass.

“When did the threat come in!?” I shout. There’s no response, and I look down at my phone and see that the call was lost. Cell service has always been spotty around here, but I’ve never been more enraged by it.

I call my guys at the hotel as I’m on my way there, but neither one of them answers. They are both so fucking fired when I get my hands on them. This is breaking every protocol we have for maintaining safety at a set location.

I sprint to Belle’s room when I reach the hotel and see that both of the men I had posted there are gone. The door is ajar. I burst in, pistol drawn as I clear every angle. But there’s nothing. No one. “Belle!” I shout, bewildered. I’m just about to turn back when I see something on the bed.

A worn cardboard box with a card on top. Beside it, a pink pillowcase.

The world seems to come to a cold halt.

My eyes move to the pillowcase, and my chest threatens to burst as my heartrate reaches a new high. This should not be here . Either it’s the one I stole, which means someone broke into my apartment and took it back, or it’s the matching case from Belle’s, which means someone stole it from her room. And that thought absolutely terrifies me.

I holster my gun and approach slowly. Is there actually a bomb in there? And if so, where are my men? Where is Belle now? How did someone manage to get in here without being noticed? So many questions prick at my mind like a thousand needles as I look down at the card.

It reads Open Me! in big black letters.

There’s absolutely no way I should touch this thing. I should be calling in an official bomb squad to come deal with this potential threat, but like the lunatic I am, I take out my phone and dial Belle instead. Of course it goes straight to voicemail.

“Shit!” I curse, tossing my phone to the floor. I gasp a painful breath and inspect the box, searching for any signs of a trigger or explosives. All I see, however, is a basic, brown cardboard box with no indication whatsoever of what it contains.

Don’t touch this, Conrad. You know better.

But I have to know. I can’t wait for the bomb squad.

It may be the stupidest thing I’ve done, but even as my hands tingle and burn, I reach out for the card and carefully set it aside.

Gently, I test the weight of the box. It’s got some heft to it, which is not good. That could mean explosives. If I open this, there’s a decent chance my life will be over. But if I don’t find Belle, I know for certainty I will not be able to go on living. And right now, the only clue I have to finding my angel is this box. So going against all my better judgment, I succumb to my manic desire and open the top flap.

The burst from within is deafening. I close my eyes and clamp my hands over my ears in a futile attempt to shelter myself from the blast. This is it , I think. It’s over . I expect to be thrown off my feet or to feel a scalding heat against my skin as a fireball sears through my flesh.

But none of that happens, and after a moment, I open my eyes to tiny pieces of colored paper raining down all around me, blue and red pigment powder staining my clothes, the bedspread, and even the ceiling.

“A confetti bomb…” I mutter, a smile dancing its way across my lips as my ears continue to ring. My phone vibrates from the floor. I instantly grab it up and see a text from Belle: a single winky-face emoji with the word gotcha beside it.

“No way…”

Belle set the confetti bomb. She’s giving me a taste of my own medicine.

My phone vibrates again with a video message. My jaw drops at the thumbnail. Eyes wide, I press it and a video plays: me, standing at the bed, pulling open the box and the confetti bomb bursting everywhere as I flinch, sure that my life was about to end. The footage shakes, and I hear giggles from a girl filming.

I whirl, pulse racing, begging to see Belle standing behind me. But there’s nothing. Empty space. An open door. I’m alone.

The audacity. The nerve. Belle, a civilian, managed to lose me at the pier, then found a way to slip back to the hotel and set a trap for me. She also managed to record me as it happened so she would always have proof of what she’s done.

What a naughty little girl. She deserves punishment–wonderful, sensuous punishment that makes her cheeks go red. Both sets. Just wait until I get my hands on you, little girl. I’m fuming inside that I’ve been made a fool of, but I also respect the hell out of her for what she’s done. Every second that ticks by, my love for her deepens. Grows into something all-encompassing. Swallowing me up. This goes way beyond the obsession I had when I was stalking her. Belle has become a drug, and I’m completely addicted. If I lose her, if I’m cut off from her, the withdrawals will certainly kill me.

Leaping into action, I race from the room and down the stairs. If she was filming me when that confetti bomb went off, she must still be close by. I need to find her and get my hands on her. Up her shirt, down her pants, through her hair, all over her soft skin. My need for her has reached an all-time high.

Of course I could be racing out into a fleet of police cars, but when I burst out of the hotel and onto the sidewalk, all I see is a couple walking their poodle. They glance back at me, throwing me an odd look, and that’s when I remember that I’m covered in blue and red pigment powder.

I smile to myself.

Belle didn’t call the cops. She pulled a prank on me.

She loves me. But first she’s making me pay for what I did to her.

“Belle!” I shout, racing through traffic to the park across the street. I’m nearly clipped by a truck and am vaguely aware of the driver shouting curses at me as I leap the low stonewall and land in the grass on the other side. “Belle, come out! I know you’re here!”

My voice echoes through the night, bouncing off trees, falling into silence. She must be here. She wouldn’t have gone through all that trouble to just catch a ride back to her parents’ house or–God forbid–the manor.

I call her name again and start feeling dizzy when there’s no response. I press my palm against the trunk of a tree to steady myself and remain upright. My head aches, as though a pressure is growing and my skull is about to burst like Belle’s little trick bomb. I hear the steps of random people walking down the street behind me. Someone even calls out to me, asking me if I’m okay. I rudely wave him away before falling to one knee.

“Belle…”

My phone vibrates again, and I snatch it from my pocket, my hands shaking as I unlock it and see a picture message from Belle: a grainy zoom-shot of me, here in the park, my right knee pressed into the wet grass.

It’s like a spear of electricity straight to my heart, and I look up to see a vague flicker of moss green vanishing back into the shadows. Belle’s yoga pants.

Instantly, I’m on my feet and running, driven by pure adrenaline. I catch up to her in seconds, snatch her up in my arms, and press her up against the trunk of a tree. For a brief moment, her blue eyes threaten to devour me with their beauty. I simply cannot control myself and go in for the kiss.

I’m met with a fierce knee to the balls, which causes me to double over. But I tighten my grip on her and raise myself up to see her scowling at me. If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man.

“It was you! There was no real bomb threat! This whole time it was you!”

With one hand, I pin her arms behind her back. Using the other, I snatch a handful of her hair as I press my body against her, pinning her to the tree. I can feel her nipples through her T-shirt, hard like little gum drops on her perky tits. She may be mad, but she’s also excited, like the horny little minx she is.

“Where are my men!? The ones I assigned to guard your room!?”

“Oh, them?” Belle laughs devilishly. “I made up a story about how you had found the man who made the threat and had him in custody at the manor.”

I can feel enamel scraping off my teeth as I grit them together in anger. “They are so fucking done after this.”

“ That’s what you’re worried about right now? Not the fact that I’ve found you out! You’re the one who made the bomb threat!”

“I couldn’t let you marry him, Belle!” I snarl, my cock hard as I grind against her. My lust is painfully overwhelming. “You know I couldn’t, angel.”

“You stalked me!” She squeals as I press my nose to her neck, inhaling her scent that I’ve been deprived of for too long. “A pillowcase, Conrad? What did you do? Break into my bedroom when I was gone?”

I kiss her just below her ear, feeling her body tremble against mine. “Yes. Sometimes when you were there too. I couldn’t stand just watching you from afar.”

She gasps and tries to knee me again, but I twist and press into her with more force. She feels my arousal now.

“That’s insane!” she hisses. “You’re a stalker, Conrad! You’re dangerous!”

“It’s my job to be dangerous!” I snap. “But never with you, angel. Never. My only purpose in life is to keep you safe.”

“And lie to me, right? Trick me into giving you my virginity by saying you were preparing me for my husband? I can’t believe I fell for that!”

I lessen my grip on her. She’s struggling less now. “Come on, Belle. Let’s both be honest. I didn’t trick you! You wanted me. You don’t want Fitch. You never wanted him!”

Her left eyebrow raises. Her eyes twinkle in a way that causes me to tense up. “Oh, yeah? Do you know I called him?”

The world freezes around me. My muscles go tight. Something close to fear grips me. “You did not…Please, Belle, tell me you didn’t call Fitch.”

Her muscles relax more, and a devilish smiles twists over her plump, shiny lips. She nods, and my heart sinks. Has she played me again? Has this chase been just one long punishment, and now she’s about to drive the dagger home?

It can’t be.

Belle loves me. I know she does.

“I did, Conrad. I called Fitch,” she whispers, causing me to deflate, loosen my grip on her. My face falls from hers, and I press my forehead against the cold bark of the tree, beads of sweat dripping from my forehead. It’s over.

But then I feel Belle’s sweet hand against my chin. She lifts gently, bringing our gazes to each other. “I called to tell him I’m leaving him for you.”

A bolt of shock rips up my spine, forcing my eyes to narrow.

“Don’t lie to me,” I growl.

“ I’m not the liar here, Conrad.” The smirk on her lips is so adorable that I simply cannot take it. I erupt.

“Don’t lie to me!” The words emerge from my throat like the roar of a bear. I slam my fist into the tree, scraping skin from my knuckles. The pain distracts me momentarily, but not enough to matter.

“I’m not, Daddy,” she whimpers, eyeing me with that innocence that made me fall in love with her from the beginning. “You may have terrified me, but you also make me feel safe, wanted, important in a way that no one else ever has. And having known what that’s like, there’s no going back.”

“I’m so sorry, Belle,” I wheeze. “I should never have lied to you. I knew you were the lock to my key when I first met you. But my duty–the fact that I’d been hired by your fiancé–”

Belle places a finger to my lips, quieting me. “He’s not my fiancé anymore, Conrad. Remember?”

I smile fully at her, slipping my hand between her legs. The fabric is wet, betraying her arousal, and I apply pressure to the spot, causing her back to arch and her body to press back against mine. Her wet lips shine under the moonlight as I unbutton my pants and pull out my swollen manhood. She gently scratches my head, her fingers dancing lightly across my scalp as she accepts my kisses while I tug her pants down over her lush hips.

“I can’t get enough of you, Belle.” It’s confession time, so I might as well let it all out. My desperation, my addiction to her, the fact that I would do anything to keep her safe–including laying down my life for hers. “I’d die for you, angel. I’d die without you.”

I spread her folds with her fingers, causing a whimper to drip from her lips. “It’s yours, Daddy. Take it.”

I do.

I slide into her without hesitation, pinning her to the tree as I spear into her breach. I piston deep, clenching my teeth together as I feel her wetness, her tightness, her warmth. She grips my waist with her soft hands, pulling me into her like she’s challenging me to let it all out on her. And God, do I ever.

I pound in and out of her like I’m possessed. This isn’t just about sex. It’s about solidifying our bond. It’s about coupling with my angel. It’s about finally being able to be my manic self around her and no longer needing to hide it.

“This is who I really am, Belle,” I grunt in her ear as I slam into her. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to restrain myself.”

The grip of her tight little cunt on my cock is sweet and dangerous, amplified by the intensity of the connection growing between us, like a chain being forged link by link with each slam of a massive hammer. My hammer.

“You love that I am obsessed with you,” I snarl, slipping both hands up her shirt to cup her perky, bountiful breasts, fighting to not give in to the overwhelming pleasure of her dripping pussy. “Aren’t you, angel?”

“Yes,” she whimpers, wrapping her thin arms around my broad shoulders and neck. “You make me feel special, Conrad. Wanted.” She leans her head forward, and I feel the warm wet of her lips against my skin. “You gave me something no one ever has, daddy. The way you care, coveted me, devoted yourself to me. You changed me. There’s no going back for me now.”

Her words are driving me crazy–even more crazy than I already am. And she’s fucking me back, grinding her hips into mine with every stroke I give her, taking every inch I have with ripe passion.

Am I right for her? I can’t say.

Can I live without her? Definitely not.

Belle is right. There is no going back from this. And I may be a twisted individual, owned by this angelic woman, or I might be just the right guy for her and her mutual malady. Maybe we’re two puzzle pieces who simply needed to find each other, and the rest of our lives together will be pure dark magic.

My angel’s body is shaking now, signaling to me that she’s close. I grab both of her legs and lift her, wrapping them around my waist, holding her up against the tree as I speed up my strokes, taking absolutely no mercy on her juicy little cunt. I grip her breasts so hard she squeals in pain, but I silence her by devouring her mouth with mine, pressing my tongue against hers in a dance of passion.

Then suddenly, a dull explosion bursts in my ear, accompanied by a ringing sound, and I realize she’s slapped me hard and has a grip on my hair. “I’m coming, D-daddy,” she whines adorably, her voice a twist mix of pleasure and pain as I maintain my grip on her tits. “Come with me.”

I do as I’m told and let spray my biggest load yet, filling her channel with my spend as she’s overtaken with a quivering orgasm that causes her thighs to vise around my waist as she hangs on for dear life, the bark of the tree no doubt biting into her back as she pants sexy little moans into my ear. We come down gasping, panting, lost in each other’s eyes, and I remain hard within her as I whisper to her, “I love you, Belle.”

“I love you too, Conrad.”

I take a full breath, filling my lungs with truth, honesty, and the bliss of the moment. I have no idea how we’re going to sort this mess out, or what kind of damage this will cause me in my professional life, but I do know one thing: With Belle by my side, I can do anything. And I cannot wait to begin my life with her.