The Billionaire's Twisted Love Book 2: Trapped by You

By Wanitta Praks

“Your touch singes me. Your kisses are like drugs. I am addicted to you. I am trapped by you. Yet I don’t want to escape from this beautiful prison.”

Julian Devereux. So beautiful and mysterious on the outside yet so damaged and broken on the inside. Who is this monster standing before me?

I thought I knew you well, but the past was only an illusion. But why do I find myself coming back for more? Do I enjoy being your pawn in your elaborate game to gain back the title of heir to the Devereux Legacy? Or am I so captivated by you that I am trapped by my own doing?

Maybe deep down, I want to dig for the truth, to find out why you turned out to be this monster. But I didn’t anticipate the story unfolding was beyond what I could imagine. Julian, what have you gone through?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wanitta Praks
• Release date: Sep 11, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370206834

Wanitta Praks

Wanitta lives in the small town of Dunedin, New Zealand, the country where Lord of the Rings took place.She writes contemporary romantic comedy and new adult romance fiction.If not working at her day job or writing her novels at night, she enjoys eating noodles, watching mystery drama and anime, reading manga, along with exploring a wide range of music.If you love Wanitta's books, check out her older sister's books. Alexia also writes contemporary and new adult romance fiction.www.alexiapraks.comApparently, writing swoon-worthy heroes and spunky innocent heroines runs in the family.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Pain. Humiliation. Anger. I wanted to drown out these emotions, bury them deep within the crevices of my heart, so they wouldn't seek out to the surface again. The more I thought about the last few weeks, the more I wanted to kick myself at my own stupidity, gullibility, and naivety. I was a fool to fall in love with that man. I gave him my everything, body, heart, and soul. Little did I know it was only a trick.

He was good, I admit. He should have won the Emmy for best actor. All those love confessions and kisses. All those solemn expressions. How long did it take him to master?

Did he really love me when he made love to me?

Idiot. We didn’t make love. Every time we did it, he would insanely fuck me, like we were animals. And I enjoyed it.

God, I was a mess. Maybe therapy could help my messed-up mind.

But the question still remained. Why did he want to be the sole heir of the Devereux legacy when he was already a billionaire himself? What else did he want with that money?

Idiot, again. He’s a greedy man; that’s why. His wealth alone wasn't enough to quench his ego. He needed the status too, the title of president, being the major shareholder of Devereux Enterprises.

My heart twisted like a knife had sliced through it when I thought back to that night. When he confessed the truth to me, I almost couldn’t take it. Not to mention I couldn’t even escape from his grasp. He fucked me like crazy until we were both exhausted. Even now, I still couldn’t believe how I even had the strength to leave him. Physically speaking, my body was so exhausted even my core was sore for days.

Everything back then was just a blur to me now, like a collage of memories all mixed in a blender. I remembered taking the taxi to the airport and buying a one-way ticket home. Papa was so surprised to see me. He even asked why I’d changed my mind when I said I wanted to stay in Miami for a couple more days.

Poor Papa. Of course he didn’t know what I’d gone through. It was too humiliating to confess to him. So all I did was collapse into bed and cry my heart out.

Stupid bastard. If I weren’t so scared of being shoved into jail back then, I would’ve bashed in his beautiful face while he was asleep, just to show he shouldn’t mess with a woman like me.

That was what he was, a man with a beautiful face but the heart of a monster. A beautiful monster, who somehow had captivated my heart and trapped me within his hold. Even though I wasn't physically with him, I was still emotionally attached to him. So attached I couldn’t stop thinking about him now. How his lips touched my own. How his tongue tasted. I fumed at the thought.

Julian Devereux, I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.

Kimmy.

I looked up from the rim of the cocktail I was holding, mind kicked back into gear when I heard Amelia speak.

We were back where we first started three years ago. It was almost like a reunion. Theresa, Joanna, and Amelia were all here tonight, celebrating my return from America, in the same bar we frequented, Moonlight.

You’re unusually quiet tonight. What are you thinking? Amelia asked.

Nothing, I answered, eyes still on my cocktail, fingers clenching the small glass.

Then talk, Joanna added. Aren’t you the one who wanted a get-together tonight? I thought you’d be spontaneously combusted by now.

I lifted my eyes to see three faces staring back at me, faces sketched in concern. I’m fine, I reassured them, only to turn back and sulk some more.

You don’t look fine, Kimmy. Want me to take you home? Amelia asked.

I’m fine, I told her.

You know, if you have any problems, you could always tell us. I know we won’t be able to help much, but we can listen. It’s the least we can do to help you.

Would telling them about my problem achieve anything? I was always the one lending a hand, but this dilemma was my own fault. I brought my own downfall. I had too much confidence in myself, in my skill to help and heal people. I'd failed to look at the deeper picture. I was too absorbed in my task to save him from his family that I'd neglected the little facts that kept popping up along the way, screaming at me to examine them and analyze my situation.

Like when Josh told me not to get too close to Julian because he was a dangerous man. Did I listen to him? Of course not. I took Julian’s side. I took Julian’s words as fact and ignored everything else. No cross-examination. No verification. Just like when I found that embezzlement letter on Julian’s desk regarding Josh laundering money from Devereux Holdings. I felt sorry for him and comforted him instead of confronting Josh and asking what the hell was going on.

I did all this because I thought I loved him.

No, telling my friends about Julian wouldn't achieve anything.

Plus, that asshole Julian and I were officially over anyway. We wouldn't be seeing each other again. Since we lived on different continents, there was almost a hundred percent guarantee I wouldn't be having any awkward running-into-each-other moments. Also, I wasn't the type of person to dwell on stupid mundane issues like this. Yes, I gave my heart to him, but I’d heal. And first off, the healing phase started with me getting wasted. And possibly picking up a random guy and having my first one-night stand.

That’s right. Experience more. Sex with Julian was great and mind-blowing, but he wasn't the only guy in this universe. Surely there was a guy out there who was worth more than the package in his pants.

Deciding on the best course of action, I looked at all three straight in the face.

You know what, guys? You’re right. I dumped the cocktail down my throat in one go, eyes burning when the liquid hit the back of my throat. I slung my chestnut hair back and jumped off the high stool with energetic force. Let’s get out on the dance floor. My legs need some exercise.

Nicki Minaj was on. I loved that song. Pound the Alarm. Pound my heart too, please. Get this shit feeling called love out of my heart too, please. Let me wake up from this illusion and get my life back on track.

I was having fun. Thoughts of Julian and my heartache were trapped in the back of my mind somewhere. The melody pulled at my blood, making my body move in tune to the electrifying music. But in the midst of my groovy moves, I had a niggling sense someone was staring at me. I whipped my head around and locked eyes with steel-grey eyes and inky black hair.

Julian. My heart skipped a beat. Oh shit!

My stomach coiled. Bile lodged in my throat. Tears stung my eyes. The need to retch was so strong. I rushed to the bathroom. Luckily, no one was in sight. I rushed in and locked myself in one of the stalls.

Shit. I’m a lost cause. Here I was, kneeling over a toilet bowl, throwing up my dinner over a stupid guy who’d manipulated me for his own gain. I thought I was over him, but just the mere sight of someone looking similar to him had my heart pounding and my blood running hot.

What a fucked-up person I turned out to be. If papa knew about my ailment, there would be no way he’d put me to work at his company. And right now, I wanted to work. Get my mind to focus again so I would stop thinking about that stupid guy.

Once my stomach was rid of all the food, I huddled in the corner of the stall and cried. My body shook with the pending anger. Droplet after droplet of tears rained down my face. I was so tired and exhausted from this whole affair. I wished I could just scream out all the hate I had for him, just to get it out of my system.

Maybe that was what I needed. To unleash my anger, to scream out my pent-up rage. So I took my phone from the back of my tight jeans and did the only thing I could think of. I called Julian to give him a piece of my mind.

You’re a fucked-up person, Julian, I shouted over the pounding music as soon as I heard the ringing stop. You think you’re something, using me as your pawn. Well, guess what? I used you too. You were fun to have sex with, but now I’m bored of you. Compared to my other boyfriends, I rate you average.

And then I snapped the phone shut and cried even more.

Oh God, how far from the truth. I needed his touch like a drug. I was so addicted to him I was trembling with want. Even knowing he was a flame and I could get burned if I got too close to him, I still craved him.

I rested my head on the toilet seat, breathing out a sigh. I didn’t even know if he heard me over that loud noise. Nor did I know whether he picked up or not. I bet he must have thought I was some psychopathic person stalking him. But my mind was too consumed with conveying my message I didn’t pay attention to any of this.

A pounding on the door alerted me to someone on the other side.

Kimmy, are you in there? Are you all right? Let me in. Amelia’s alarmed voice came through.

I fumbled to stand up, losing strength as all my energy was used up in the shouting match on the phone. The pounding at the door didn’t cease. In fact, it was synchronized with the pounding in my head. And Amelia's shouts were like death sirens, increasing the pain even more. I really needed to get home, have a shower, and get straight into bed. Forget about that one-night stand. I could hardly stand on my own two feet to support myself.

I finally managed to open the door at last. I saw the flustered look on my friend’s face. Her eyes grew wide and her lips trembled as if she were afraid I might fall over any second.

I smiled weakly and scoffed at her. Amelia, you don’t have to look so—

I didn’t get any farther. I sank into the depths of oblivion.

Pain. I woke to pain radiating all over. This wasn't the same emotional pain I'd experienced when Julian confessed the truth to me, or the feeling of having my heart broken because I was manipulated. No, this pain was physical. It was like someone was kicking at my skull, then drilling a hole in it.

I carefully opened my eyes and felt pain again. Bright light poured into my eyes, burning my pupils. I had to shut them again. My body felt like a million needles had pierced through it. My throat felt like cracked earth that hadn’t been watered for centuries.

I grouchily sat up, peeling my eyes open again. My clothes were no longer on my body. Instead, I was dressed in my favorite white silk pajama gown. Glancing to the side, Chloe, my maid, smiled at me. Which meant I was in my own bedroom, with a hangover.

But who took me home? Last night, the only memory I had was hugging a toilet bowl and spewing all my food.

Chloe, water. I rasped out like an old lady out of breath.

Chloe bought a jug of water to my side and poured a glass. It wasn't enough. I drank a bit more. It still didn’t clear my mind. I settled back into bed and closed my eyes until Chloe woke me again.

Miss Kimmy. There are guests downstairs.

Guests? I grouched, turning away.

Yes, Miss Kimmy. And Sir said for you to make his favorite coffee for them when you awake.

I whined. I was drowsy. Here I was having a hangover and I still couldn’t get out my morning routine. Making Papa his coffee.

How many guests are there? I rasped out.

Just two. Chloe smiled, shaking her head at my usual behavior.

Two males? I asked, half listening.

"Yes. One is an older gentleman. Another quite young. Possibly in his late twenties.

Ughh. I growled in annoyance and got up, tossing a jacket over my nightdress.

Miss Kimmy, are you not getting changed first? Chloe presented me with my morning attire, but I waved it aside.

No need. The guests must be Clinton Silverton and Winton, his secretary. I’ll just make the coffee and get back into bed. No need to fuss with getting changed. My head still hurts. I’m just going to sleep for a bit more.

Chloe looked like she was about to say something, but then said instead, I’ll leave some paracetamol beside your bed.

Thanks, I muttered. Padding down the stairs, half yawning, with bare feet, I went into the kitchen.

Papa must have invited his old business partners over again. Always on a Saturday morning. Once I was done with the coffee in the kitchen, I knocked on Papa’s study door and entered.

Papa, here’s your coffee. I smiled.

Ah, come here, Kimmy-berry. Papa led me into his office. What’s wrong with your eyes? Why are they so red?

That was the result of heavy drinking from the night before. Obviously, I couldn’t tell him that.

Tired, Papa. Here’s your coffee. I’m going straight back to bed after this.

You do that, sweetheart. Papa took the coffee from my hand, placed it on his desk, and smiled at me. Then he patted my head.

It was kind of embarrassing to be treated like a little girl, but since these guests of Papa's were like friends anyway, there was nothing to be shy about.

I smiled in return and picked up the next coffee cup on the tray. And here’s one for you, Clint—

I dropped the mug upon seeing that face, spilling the entire thing on my nightgown.

Kimmy-berry, are you okay. Papa stood and rushed over to help me. But he wasn’t fast enough. His guest, the one I’d intended to pass the coffee on to, came over first.

I looked up to meet steel-grey eyes and inky-black hair.

My hands trembled. My heart skipped a beat.

Are you all right? his deep baritone voice asked, a soft, sincere smile playing on his lips, like that time months ago when that smile alone captivated me.

I’m fine, I replied without looking at him, a deep, hot flush already settling on my face.

I whipped out of the room as fast as my feet could take me and settled back in the kitchen. I was still in a shaken state. And my nightdress was all wet. I dabbed it with tissue.

No way. There was no way he was here inside my house, let alone in Australia. He should have been in Miami, dominating his new company, firing people and restructuring Devereux Enterprises. It must have been my imagination.

But even if it wasn't, I didn’t wait to find out. I knew I wasn't over him. I could feel that infinite pull, just seeing a shadow of him. Wasn’t that what happened last night? I thought I saw him and panicked. No, impossible. It could never be him. Never.

I wiped my forehead with cold water, hoping to relieve the hot flush, and tossed the tissue into the bin, then rushed out the door. As I was about to turn the corner, I bumped into a wall of hard chest, a chest I knew so well, a chest I loved to touch and run my fingers over as we made love in the past.

I looked up and gazed at those steel-grey eyes.

Hello, Kimberly. Did you miss me? His baritone sent lust straight to my core.

Ju-Julian, I replied.

Chapter 2

Julian was standing right in front of me, his hands smacked against the wall, caging me loosely within the prison of his arms. He was a good head taller than