Protective Daddy: Villain Daddies, #7

By Celia Crown

An academic trip with eleven people to Imus Island turns deadly when one by one, people go missing in heartbeats.

 

The elements of the rainforest hide the eyes of a predator.

 

Sylvie's husband, Marco, is not the only dangerous presence on the island, and every decision they make can do more damage than good.

 

He's protective, controlling, and very possessive. Everything he does is for her, and he puts her safety before his even though survival of the fittest brands her as prey.

 

She doesn't know if he's able to protect her this time.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Celia Crown
• Release date: Apr 22, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223754251

Book preview

PROTECTIVE DADDY

VILLAIN DADDIES SERIES - BOOK 7

____________________

CELIA CROWN

Copyright © 2019 by Celia Crown.

All rights reserved.

This book is a work of fiction.

The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, locations, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences.

Contents

Protective Daddy

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Epilogue

Afterword

More Books

Protective Daddy

By Celia Crown

An academic trip with eleven people to Imus Island turns deadly when one by one, people go missing in heartbeats.

The elements of the rainforest hide the eyes of a predator.

Sylvie’s husband, Marco, is not the only dangerous presence on the island, and every decision they make can do more damage than good.

He’s protective, controlling, and very possessive. Everything he does is for her, and he puts her safety before his even though survival of the fittest brands her as prey.

She doesn’t know if he’s able to protect her this time.

Chapter One

___________

Sylvie

You look like you’ve seen a ghost, Sylvie.

I press my lips together as I survey the massive private jet with its intimidating height, and the crisp coating of blackness reminds me of a raven.

This is from our sponsor’s generosity. Five graduate students with the goal of a master’s degree have been chosen for this ‘expedition’ of sorts. It’s a trip to study why the water on Imus Island is bitter and how the water creatures can live under it.

It’s not creatures per se; it’s more of fishes that have been altered through the environment.

It’s an island that no one has the right to. Everyone around the world can have access to it, but it’s just a matter of how they can access it.

In our itinerary, we are to board the jet, which takes us to the closest port near the island. Then we will need to get on a boat to get to the isolated island, but then we also need to get on a smaller lifeboat from the bigger one to paddle to the island filled with sand and massive trees.

A rainforest, I remember reading it on the pamphlet of information that the representative had shown us.

The rich man who had funded this knew the risks of this trip since a major part of the rainforest is still unexplored because the island is just that massive with unstable terrains.

He had us sign a form that said he was not responsible for our deaths. At least he’s paying us each half a million dollars when this is over, and who would jump at the chance to get that much money for a seven-day trip?

There is no such thing as too much money, especially for a bunch of college students with a level of debt that exceeds six figures in loans.

I’m blessed with free education, to put it inoffensively.

Sylvie? Patricia gently lays a hand on my shoulder as her voice drops. Do you have a fear of flying?

My lips twitch and I shake my head. No, it’s just a lot to take in.

Patricia is the only one who went through the same classes as me, and we have become close friends. There is competitiveness in the master's program, but we would never sabotage each other for that spot.

I like getting what I want through fairness.

She laughs, her voice crackling in different pitches. It’s one of her sweet qualities, and she’s no longer embarrassed by it because she had punched the frat boy who had made fun of her laugh.

Believe me; it’s going to be a lot worse once you’re on it.

I scowl playfully and pinch her side as she yelps in pain. Fear of height is not a joke, you potato.

She rolls her eyes. I’m only a potato when it’s the weekends, and besides, we’re pretty much safe on the jet.

Please sit next to me when we board, I beg with a pout aimed at her.

She, obviously, has no way of not being affected, so she resigns and nods. But you can’t drool on me.

It has healing properties, I comment as we begin to step onto the ladder.

My heart pounds, pressing irritably on my ribs as I follow Patricia into the jet. The exterior does no justice to the interior. It’s fixed with gold and beautiful wooden patterns on the cup holders.

There has to be a better term for it, but I’m as uneducated about planes as the next person who utters that it’s his first time being on it.

Patricia then drags me to the back, but not too close to the bathroom so that we can avoid the smell.

It’s a relatively short ride, but it felt like three years to me. Never did I once let go of Patricia’s hand, and I’m very glad that she’s left-handed so she can scroll through her phone with one limb.

When we were about to land, we were hit with turbulence due to a thunderstorm during the last thirty minutes.

It had rocked the jet so much that I nearly threw up the water I drank.

I don’t mind in-flight service again, Patricia offhandedly remarks with a grin as she pats my head.

I swallow down the unease as I rub my gut to pray that it doesn’t act up. I have been on private jets before because Marco is not a man whose status allows him to be cramped in the vicinity of other first-class passengers.

He never lets me step foot onto a commercial flight because he’s that protective, but there have been a lot of airplane accidents this year alone.

Knowing that I don’t do well on flights, I should have packed some anti-nausea tablets, but I was so nervous about this trip that I forgot.

The red wine and steak were the bomb, she purrs, and her body shivers so violently that I feel it too.

I grimace as I recall the steak she had, and she had indulged herself in a premium steak that she had ordered because the rich sponsor said that he would pay for any meal we were to have on the plan, but we had to put down our order beforehand.

It was alive, Trish. I groan and put my hand over my mouth.

Thinking about the redness in the meat is enough to make nausea rummage through my system. I love Patricia, I really do, but sometimes our eating preferences are just polar opposites. She can eat whatever she wants, but I would always decline if she offers me some because I’m more of a girl that likes her food heated under the degree of Hell’s flame.

This food preference was derived from food poisoning after my mom had made a steak for my dad that was medium-rare, and I had wanted to try it and ended up with food poisoning.

Ever since then, I only like fully-cooked meals.

Childhood trauma is scary.

It was medium-rare, she counters with a scowl as she nudges my side with her elbow.

I sniff and whine under my breath as another tumble of sickness roll around my tummy. As we wait for the green light to board the ship, we just stand there by the waters with thunderous clouds above us.

A guide was introduced to us because he’s been to the island before and told us how much he loves it, and he wants people to know more about it. I like his enthusiasm, but maybe he’s a tad bit too overwhelming for me, given I’m still recovering from that rough jet ride.

The sponsor’s representative gets our attention as she claps her hand. I would like to introduce your security detail.

I furrow my brows in confusion. I thought this was an expedition trip to an island with an experienced guide, so where did this sudden security detail come from?

Patricia voices the same thoughts to me, and we decide not to discuss it because the woman in front is explaining why we’re theoretically being babysat as the man beside me grumbles under his breath.

He’s the alpha male in our group, or so he says himself. His name is Prince, he went to Princeton University for undergrad, and his family owns Prince Chains that make all types of restraints for the military.

Not going to lie, I thought his name was Prince, and his last name was Prince, too. Given his family name and business, it was a logical thought process, but it’s not. He likes to go by Prince and expects everyone to call him that.

Hey, Patricia whispers into my ear. Guy on the right. Dark skin, gorgeous eyes, and a thigh-chafing beard. My type, Sylvie, don’t stop me.

I