Bound: Seduced into Submission, #5

By Angie Daniels

USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR ANGIE DANIELS continues with the latest installment of Seduced into Submission…

 

It is hard to be consumed by anger when my heart feels like it is breaking in two.

A part of me still loves Creed. The other half hates him.

I blame him even though I know with my actions came consequences.

Everything that has happened is all my fault.

So, I try to keep it professional, but the pull is too strong.

I have to find a way out of our arrangement.

The longer I stick around, the more he smiles.

The more I resist, the more he wants.
And suddenly what he wants is what I want.

Walls come crashing down and my soul becomes willing prey for his stormy eyes.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

His arrogance and need to control, I can handle.
But when he starts to behave as if I matter to him,
My entire plan to end our relationship goes out the window.
Who the hell does he think he is making me fall for him all over again?

I must resist Creed Kirkland.
Even if every part of me knows I am already his.

And what the boss wants, the boss always gets.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Caramel Kisses Ink
• Release date: Nov 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781941342527

Angie Daniels

Angie Daniels is a free spirit who isn’t afraid to say what’s on her mind or even better, write about it. Since strutting onto the literary scene in five-inch heels, she’s been capturing her audience’s attention with her wild imagination and love for alpha men. The USA Today Bestselling Author has written over thirty novels for imprints such as BET Arabesque, Harlequin/Kimani Romance and Kensington/ Dafina and Kensington/Aphrodisia Books. For more information about upcoming releases, and to connect with Angie on Facebook, please visit her website at angiedaniels.com.

Book preview

BOUND

Seduced into Submission

Angie Daniels

Caramel Kisses Ink

ISBN: 9781941342527

Copyright © 2021 Angie Daniels

All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. For questions and comments please contact the author at [e-mail].

Table of Contents

Series

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Books

About the Author

Seduced into Submission Series

Start the series from the beginning.

You don’t know what you’ve been missing!

Seduced into Submission: CURIOUS

Seduced into Submission: SERVE

Seduced into Submission: OBEY

Seduced into Submission: SURRENDER

Seduced into Submission: BOUND

Seduced into Submission: Unwound (2022)

BOUND

Seduced into Submission

Angie Daniels

Caramel Kisses Ink

Prologue

THIS CANNOT BE HAPPENING.  

But even as I shut my eyes and opened them again, I knew in my heart that what was happening was real. It’s so real I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think except to remember this was my fault. I caused this to happen. I felt guilt in my heart and my soul.

I closed my eyes for a few shaky breaths with emotions detonating like bombs in my chest. In a panic, I started clawing at my neck.

Peyton, try to relax, whispered a comforting voice.

How in the world was I supposed to relax when I knew what I had done? It was my fault. 

I had done this.

I looked to my right and left at my girls. Morgan and Michelle. Five-year-old twins. Their lives would never be the same. And it was my fault. How could I tell them I was the one who had ruined their lives? I was the one who had brought so much pain. And because of me, things would never be the same again. I had been selfish because I believed I had a right to be happy. Silly rabbit! My so-called happiness had caused misery to the ones I loved most. I had hurt my children. Me, dammit! It was all me. 

I had done this.

My eyes shifted to the front of the church, and when they landed on the large, black coffin, I shook my head in vehement denial. 

Nope. 

There was no way this was happening. I squeezed my eyelids shut and prayed. But when I opened them and glanced around, I still saw all the people who had come out to pay their respects. The family and friends who had traveled by trains, planes, and automobiles to say goodbye. 

Hey everybody! Guess what? I did this!

I should be the one lying in that coffin. It should have been me.

The preacher was standing up at the pulpit talking about remembering the good times and celebrating life, not death. Laughter erupted from the deepest part of my gut. That was easy for him to say. He didn’t just have his heart ripped out of his chest. He wasn’t responsible for someone else’s death. I was. Dammit, I was. 

Someone was patting my arm, and I shrugged their hand away. I didn’t deserve pity. My decisions had been selfish. I wanted a life that included a career. I wanted independence. 

But why? 

What made me think I deserved better? My mother never had it. Neither did my sister. And yet, I wanted to show the world I was different and could have something they could not. 

And it had been Aunt Ruth who’d pushed me to do it. Even when I didn’t want to, Aunt Ruth convinced me I could. She insisted I start living my life and find my happiness.

A sob caught in my throat. Because of Aunt Ruth’s words of aspiration, I had put one foot in front of the other and landed a job at Independent Woman magazine. It was there I had started my column where I explored women’s curiosities. It was easy because I, too, was curious. I had so much to learn about sex and relationships. That damn curiosity landed me into an exclusive club where I met empowering women who made me believe I could do anything I set my mind to do. It was also the same club where I had met a handsome, dominant stranger who showed me pleasure like nothing I had ever experienced in my life. It wasn’t until much later that I discovered he was my boss, millionaire-mogul Creed Kirkland. He led me into an affair that I should have run away from. Instead, I didn’t want to let him go. With him, I felt alive. And because of selfish need, I was at church, attending a funeral. 

I was laughing hysterically again. Laughing so hard, a woman sitting in the pew behind me was patting my shoulder. 

There now. It’s going to be okay, she said softly. 

A hard lump of sorrow rose in my throat. No, it wasn’t. It was never going to be okay again. I was such a hypocrite. I had an affair but had the nerve to point my finger at my husband and his mistress for doing the same. When did I become the judge and the jury? How could I condemn them for their transgressions when I had my own? Every chance I could, I had taken advantage of Aunt Ruth’s kindness, leaving her to raise my children while I was somewhere lying on my back with my legs spread. Even Ray told me I needed to be home, but I ignored him and did what I wanted because Aunt Ruth didn’t seem to mind taking care of the girls. But Ray had been right. I should have been home raising our children instead of working. And because of me... Because of me... 

I couldn’t finish the thought. Instead, my eyes trailed back up to the altar, and the room begins to spin. 

With every decision, there are consequences.

Consequences.

Consequences.

The choir rose from their seats, and the soloist was singing a song about a sparrow, and I felt myself crashing. Tears were streaming down my face, and at some point, I slid off the pew and onto the floor. I couldn’t muster up the energy to get up.

It was because of me.

It was my fault.

Ray was dead.

Sweetheart, it’s going to be okay. 

There Aunt Ruth was, down on the floor by my side, trying to soothe me. It was what she was good at, taking care of the girls and me. And I was crying so hard; tears were clogging my throat. Raymond Powell was gone. Despite all his faults, he had taken care of his family. I never had to want for anything, but selfishly I had wanted more. Now I was supposed to believe he was lying inside that box.

That’s not him in there! Not my husband!

I heard a high-pitched scream, and it took a moment or two before I identified the sound as my own. Then, I was being scooped up off the floor and lifted into solid and familiar arms. I opened my eyes to find Creed cradling me comfortably against his chest. The muscle at his cheek flexed. I opened my mouth to tell him to let me go, but I couldn’t catch my breath.

Was I dreaming?

I got you, he whispered close to my cheek, and then he was carrying me away.  Heads turned. Folks were watching. Was he taking me to his private elevator? 

I was dreaming. I had to be. 

I remembered my husband twisting my arm, dropping me to my knees on the floor of the lobby. I remembered Creed landing a fist to Ray’s jaw. I also remembered the police officers knocking at my door, followed by the hospital calling my phone with tragic news. It was a day forever etched in my brain.

And that was where I lost it.

I sucked in a breath and screamed until the back of my throat was hurting. The world swirled, grew silent, and then everything disappeared.

Chapter 1

FOR DAYS, I FADED IN and out.

Guilt would come roaring back, and then I was screaming one minute and laughing hysterically the next. A therapist prescribed Xanax, which helped to cope at least enough, so my girls didn’t have to keep seeing me on the verge of insanity. I was thankful for Aunt Ruth and my sister, Olivia, for saving me from slitting my wrist because my anguish was extreme. So sedation was the right choice.

Somebody had killed Ray in a hit-and-run accident. Aunt Ruth had driven me to the hospital, where a trauma doctor reported he had died almost instantly. Knowing he hadn’t suffered had given me some comfort but almost wasn’t good enough. It did nothing for the guilt that burned in my gut.

I was lying in bed, curled up in Ray’s bathrobe. Rolling away from the window, I hugged the pillow close to my chest and squeezed my eyelids as tightly as I could.

There’s no place like home... There’s no place like home... Please let it all be a bad dream. But I knew it was real. So real, my mind and heart ached with memories of what our marriage had once been. My heart broke for my girls, who no longer had a father. They were confused, sad, and needed me. Somehow, someway, I had to get myself together. I couldn’t keep falling apart if I was going to help them to cope. First, I had to help myself.

My therapist was the only one who knew what happened. She was the only one who knew the truth about all the events that led up to Ray’s death. She told me it wasn’t my fault and that I couldn’t keep blaming myself, but who else was there to blame? 

Ray’s mother agreed. Evelyn stuck around for a week, pointing her finger and blaming me for her son’s death.

If only you had been a better wife, she hissed. Words that thumped in my mind like a boxer’s jabbing fist.

She was right. It was my fault. I was the reason Ray was dead. Not for the reasons she screamed at me, and yet it was still my fault.

Closing my eyes, I tried not to remember our last time together. But it was still too fresh. When Ray had confronted me in the IWM building’s lobby, I recalled smelling the stench of liquor on his breath. I should have taken his car keys away. I should have stopped him from driving. But I didn’t. Therefore, I didn’t need his mother constantly reminding me. Because every time I walked past a mirror and saw the woman staring back and me, I would remember.

Damn you, Ray.

I have spent hours trying to figure out what happened after the confrontation at the building. Had he been distracted and drove through the stoplight? I kept having dreams, picturing Ray lying there with metal scattered all around. He had been hit by a truck reported stolen. Witnesses said the Chevy Silverado had come out of nowhere, slamming him from the side. Ray had never been good about putting on his seat belt, and as a result, he had flown through the windshield. The driver behind the wheel of the stolen vehicle fled the scene by foot.

I couldn’t stop wondering about the last seconds of Ray’s life. The pain he had been in. The fear pounding through his veins as he took that last breath. Every time I allowed myself to visualize the scene, bile rose in my throat.

A shudder crept up my spine as I reached down and pulled the comforter over my head. Ray had his faults, but I had spent enough years with that man that I knew his heart and the man he used to be, and for that, I missed him.

My tired mind stalled as I tried to forget the day the police had handed over his personal effects. There was the leather wallet I had bought him three years ago with his initials monogrammed on the front pocket. Inside, I had found a photo of him and the girls. There had even been one of me in my early years laughing because Ray had caught me off guard. It was a candid photo. Something that he’d liked to take. He said the picture had been one of his favorites. There had also been the gold necklace he wore around his neck. It was a gift from me for his twentieth-five birthday. But his wedding ring had been missing. I wasn’t surprised, but that didn’t stop me from being disappointed. I was amazed he even wore it anymore, considering he’d been having an affair with Haley. But I knew why. Most of his clients believed a married man was an honest man, and I would see it on his finger on occasions. He had gained weight over the years and had moved the gold band to his pinky finger. It was so loose, I asked him repeatedly to let me take it to the jewelers and have it resized, especially since one of the three diamonds was chipped, but his response had always been he wanted to leave it the way it was until he lost weight. Of course, that never happened. Tears gurgled at the back of my throat because losing his wedding ring symbolized the end. He must have been wearing it at the time of the crash because when he was at IWM twisting my arm, I had felt the gold band pressed against my flesh.

I cringed at the memory of the embarrassing scene at IWM.

I hadn’t been back to work since.

My therapist was able to write an order granting me family medical leave for my anxiety. Juliette, a Human Resource Manager at IWM, called periodically to check on me. I ignored the calls. I didn’t want to talk to anyone at IWM, but more importantly, Creed. I blocked his number on my phone. The affair was a mistake I had no intentions of resuming.

But what haunted me the most was when I wasn’t popping pills and had time to think. During those moments, I took an honest look at myself and asked if I could do it all over again, would I have walked away from IWM? The answer was disturbing.

No.

Chapter 2

WAKE UP, SUNSHINE.

From under a homemade quilt, I heard Aunt Ruth’s muffled voice. I stuck my head out right before she drew open the curtains, and sunshine beamed on my face. With a groan, I rolled over.

Peyton, you have to get up.

I can’t. I burrowed my head under the cover.

Yes, you can. From the force of her sigh, I knew she was also dealing with losing Ray or maybe remembering the pain she had felt when her husband had passed away.

No, I can’t, I said, desperately raising my voice. I was embarrassed to have her see me this way—a broken, guilty mess. I covered my face and wished she’d go away.

Aunt Ruth started walking around the room. I didn’t have to open my eyes to know she was picking my clothes up off the floor.

I’m getting ready to take the girls to camp. While I’m gone, I want you to get dressed and come downstairs. Let’s have breakfast together, she suggested.

No. I don’t want to. But instead of speaking, I said nothing.

I lowered the quilt enough to see her retrieve a TV tray and carry it out of the room. I had left dinner from last night untouched.

It had been six weeks since Ray’s untimely death had left us reeling with shock and grief. I withdrew. I couldn’t eat. Every morning I’d wake up hoping to hear running water coming from the shower in the ensuite or the sound of his off-tune humming as he crossed our bedroom. However, other than my children’s muted sounds at the end of the hall, it was quiet.

Feeling as though I was in a trance, I spent the last week thumbing through old photo albums to see the smile on my husband’s face and watching home videos to hear his voice. It was a pity party. I knew it and yet did it anyway.

I drew another deep breath and tried to remember the feel of Ray lying beside me. I was used to sleeping alone. But at least then, I knew he was alive, even when he was lying in his mistress Haley’s bed.

I rolled over and blinked dazedly at the ceiling fan swirling above. Life was such a blur. I wasn’t sure what day it was anymore. I knew I had to go on living, but doing so felt selfish, especially since Ray could no longer do the same.

I must have dozed off because I heard the garage door raise and then lower. Aunt Ruth had returned from taking the girls to summer camp. Morgan and Michelle were back to being kids. I was grateful to Aunt Ruth for helping them to move on. I wished I had their strength.

I heard her whistling softly downstairs, shortly followed by the smell of bacon frying. My stomach growled, and there was no way to continue to lay there. I need to eat something to soothe the uneasiness at the pit of my belly.

I rose, showered, then slid into lime green running shorts and a t-shirt. I reached for my Xanax and slipped the bottle inside my pocket. I didn’t need them. Not yet. Maybe not at all, but I needed those pills close by in case. As I padded barefoot downstairs, the smell of coffee filled my lungs, and I suddenly needed a mug or two.

Aunt Ruth turned the moment she heard my footsteps. Well, hello. I’m so happy you decided to join me.

Hi, I said shyly as my eyes tried to adjust to the natural light coming through all the windows.

Take a seat.

I moved over and sat on one of the stools at the island, and immediately grief raged in my chest as I remembered Michelle and Ray in the kitchen cooking together while I sat in this exact seat sipping coffee. Tears flooded my eyes that I quickly brushed away while Aunt Ruth carried over my favorite pink mug and slid it in front of me.

Thank you.

She looked at me with unshed tears hovering in her own eyes. No need to thank me. My job is to take care of the three of you.

And we are so grateful.

She fell silent for a moment before saying, Well, you might not realize it, but at my age, it feels good to be needed.

Your age? I mocked while I took in her oval face and short, salt and pepper hair. You don’t look a day over twenty-five.

She smiled and while I sipped coffee, made the way I liked it, I honestly started to feel better. Enough that I wanted to go outside and at least try to get some fresh Virginia air.

We talked a few moments about current events then I slid off the stool. On my way toward the deck, I grabbed a slice of bacon and brought it to my lips. I always could find an appetite for thick applewood bacon. I opened the French doors, stepped across the composite deck over to the table, and took a seat. It was a beautiful morning. The sky was clear, and there was a slight breeze. I drew in a deep breath and chewed. A gentle wind sent a wave of sadness fluttering down my spine and fresh tears to my eyes. Reaching into my pocket, I removed the bottle of Xanax and sat it on the table. I didn’t know how long I stared at it before deciding not to take one. Instead, I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. It’s going to get better, I told myself. Take it one day at a time. This isn’t your fault.

How I wished I could believe that, but Ray had been drinking. I smelled the liquor on his breath. He was so pissed off about not getting the contract to the point he had been distracted. I was sure of that. And it was all because of me.

Maybe I did need the Xanax.

As I started to reach for the bottle, the doors swung open, and Aunt Ruth stepped out carrying a large wicker basket. I pushed the pills away and looked curiously before drawing my eyes to her slightly wrinkled face.

What do you have?

Aunt Ruth waited until she was seated before she spoke. Letters and condolence cards.

My heart somersaulted in my chest.

I haven’t open them, she said. I thought I’d wait until you were ready and we do it together. She gave me a sad smile. I think it’s time.

I gazed down at the basket overflowing with more sympathy cards than I could imagine opening. Where in the world did all of these come from?

Some came from the church, and others came in the mail.

It was too many of them. All of those were from people who knew and cared about Ray. I stared at the basket, almost afraid to touch any envelopes because inside confirmed what I already knew.

Mrs. Peyton, I regret to inform you, but your husband was involved in a motor vehicle accident and was pronounced dead...

The days following that evening were so confusing I didn’t know which was fact or what was fiction.

I barely remember the funeral.

It’s only natural for you not to remember every detail.

Tears pricked my eyes. What was it like?

The funeral? I nodded, and Aunt Ruth drew a sigh. The funeral was standing room only. So many members of the community came out to pay their respects.

That news came as no surprise. Ray had been an active member of the chamber of commerce and had been on every medical board he could buy a seat. He made sure his staffing agency was well known, especially throughout the medical community. Social networking meant more business. More business meant more money.

I don’t even remember going to the cemetery.

That’s because you fainted.

I met her eyes. Aunt Ruth nodded. Yes, I think it was too much for you to deal with, she added softly.

Goodness. How embarrassing, I mumbled.

There’s no reason to be embarrassed. Everyone understood. But luckily for you, that gorgeous man was there.

My breath stalled. What man?

That tall, handsome gentleman you work with.

Creed Kirkland?

Aunt Ruth nodded knowingly. Yes, I heard someone whisper his name. After you passed out at the church, he scooped you up into his arm and carried you away.

I thought it was a dream. I remembered feeling familiar arms scooping me up and holding me close. Even before I had opened my eyes, I knew it was Creed by the way my body felt in his arms.

My heart constricted in my chest. What happened after that?

I’m not sure, dear. You have to tell me. There was a mischievous smile on her face.

I shook my head. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was telling the truth.

The two of you left in an expensive car.

What? I shook my head. I don’t remember that. The last thing I remembered was being seated at a corner table with Morgan and Michelle and everyone stopping to pay their respects on their way to the buffet table. I remember everyone was eating. I also remembered staring across the room and seeing Haley being consoled by another sales team member. I was too numb to react, but in my mind, I was clawing her eyes out.

Oh yes. You reappeared at the cemetery, and your mystery man was gone.

I gave her a weird look because I honestly didn’t remember any of that with Creed, or at least I didn’t think I do.

Fainting at the funeral... I shook my head in despair. No wonder my mother-in-law hates me so much.

Aunt Ruth gave a dismissive wave. I don’t think Evelyn remembers much of it herself. At the gravesite, she hooped and hollered and made sure everyone knew Ray was her son.

Yep. That sounded like my mother-in-law. Always needed to be the center of attention. Like Ray.

"Anyway, these are all of the cards and letters you received. Some at the church and the rest in