ENSLAVED: A DARK Billionaire Romance (The Devil and His Dove Book 1) Read online

  Copyright 2018© Jax Hart

  All rights Reserved.

  Cover by Cover Me Darling

  Copy Edited by Gloria Dietz

  Formatting & Copyedited by JH Productions

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  FOREWORD

  GLOSSARY

  NOTE TO READER

  SOUNDTRACK

  DESCRIPTION

  QUOTE

  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

  CHAPTERSIXTEEN

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ENRAPTURED

  MORE FROM JAX

  AUTHOR LINKS

  FOREWORD

  Alexithymia

  “Alexithymia is a personality construct characterized by the subclinical inability to identify and describe emotions in the self.[1] The core characteristics of alexithymia are marked dysfunction in emotional awareness, social attachment, and interpersonal relating.[2] Furthermore, people with alexithymia have difficulty in distinguishing and appreciating the emotions of others, which is thought to lead to unempathic and ineffective emotional responding.[2] Alexithymia occurs in approximately 10% of the population and can occur with a number of psychiatric conditions.[3]” Wikipedia

  Dear Reader,

  This is a fantastical book. It is not meant to be realistic or do anything but help you escape reality and cruise along the Mediterranean to get swept away from wherever you are.

  This is a fifty thousand word full-length first book in a three-part series. Each ends with a mini-cliffhanger until the last book. But rest assured, I won’t make you wait long in between releases.

  Enjoy,

  Jax

  Agápe mou = my love

  Chrysí mía = my golden one

  Melí mou = my darling

  Malaka = jerk-off

  El Diablo = the devil

  Yaya = grandma

  Theos= god

  “No Ordinary Love”-Sade

  “Somebody Else”- The 1975

  “Nocturn in E Flat Major Op.9 No. 2”- Chopin

  “Tempest Valentina Lisitsa 3. Allegretto”- Beethoven

  “F*ck you like an animal”- Nine-inch nails

  “Bring me to life”- Evanescence

  Every time I tried to run, he caught me.

  The nights were turbulent as the stormy tides. In his arms, I found refuge...until he became my storm.

  He's breaking every part of me like the tide battering against the rocks.

  If I can't escape...I'll lose more than my heart and body--I'll lose my mind.

  Next time he won't catch me. But something tells me I could never go far enough. He has me ENSLAVED.

  I was bored. Attending the same parties, seeing the same faces and even more familiar bodies dolled up in the latest fashions straight from the runway. But one night in Capri changed everything.

  She was perfect.

  UNTAINTED.

  My sweet little dove became a caged bird. I cruelly clipped her wings just as she started to fly.

  She's mine.

  Destined to soar only in my embrace.

  She's become my sweet little pet, and I'm her UNRELENTING MASTER.

  Together we are both ENSLAVED.

  “The dark beast rose from the shadows at the first sound of his beloved’s sweet voice. She was his light, but he only brought her darkness and pain. And then they both learned that love is a coin. One side is pure light and the other dark as hell.”

  JAX HART

  I’M BURNING DOWN the world looking for her. How dare she defy me, after she swore she’d never leave? I ripped off my mask—let her see the ugly monster hiding inside of me. He lives in the cavern in my chest where my heart should be.

  She soothed him, told him it was okay—that she thought he could change from a monster into a somewhat likeable human.

  She lied.

  Made me believe she loved me, when no one on this earth has ever loved me.

  How could they?

  No one loves the devil.

  My PI’s calls are the only ones I’m taking. When I found out she had fled, I broke. Any shred of humanity was crushed under the heel of my rage. The beast wanted his pet back and will stop at nothing until she’s here. Right where she belongs—locked up in my lair.

  “Jin? Did you find anything?”

  “No. She’s not in California and her passport hasn’t been scanned at customs in any country.”

  “She’s on a boat. She must be. That’s the only way someone like her could travel under my radar.”

  “I’ll radio every captain on the Mediterranean. I’ll find her.”

  “You better or I’ll drag you into my hell, too.”

  The phone in my hand hurtled like a stone from my fist, crashing into the balcony doors made of glass.

  They shattered.

  The screen on my phone cracked.

  Good.

  Everything is broken now.

  Not just me.

  “RING ROUND THE ROSY, pockets full of posy. Ashes, ashes. We all fall down.” I hummed the rest of the tune under my breath as I sat in the chair by the window.

  The sea taunted me as it broke against the rocks below.

  Just like I broke.

  Pieces of me are all over him. I left them behind as I rushed, desperate to escape.

  Wherever he is, I’m sure he’s laughing. Knowing, he ruined me, just like he said he would.

  He took what he wanted.

  Whenever he wanted.

  And I was powerless to stop him.

  I tried, but I’ve learned some things are fated. Destined to happen, despite your every effort to stop it. Just like the tide. The power of the moon and sun are too strong to ever break their hold on the ocean; pushing and pulling. Tugging and stretching the water in their game of war.

  I laughed, the laugh of a truly mad woman.

  It was us.

  I was the sun and he was the moon. Our push and pull too strong for either of us to fight. The difference was he never tried to question or control it. I, on the other hand, ran as many times as I could. Denying what was right in front of me.

  He is the other half of my soul.

  But what do you do when the other half of yours is black? Or worse—somehow came into this world without a soul. Maybe, it got lost in the stars, never returning to earth.

  What irony, a real Greek tragedy.

  So, who am I now? Besides a woman walking around with half a soul, a wrecked heart, and a broken mind?

  I rise from the chair to open the window. The breeze flutters the hand-made lace curtains.

  I still felt him.

  He’s looking for me, hunting for any trace of me on every corner of this earth.

  He wouldn’t stop.

  He swore he’d never let me go. I was his for eternity and beyond. And I know someday, someway, in this life or in what lies beyond—I’ll never escape him. His darkness is in me now; half of my soul bound to the dark hole of his.

  A soft knock on my door had me turning from the breathtaking shores of the tiny Greek island where I sought refuge. My eyes appreciated the view, but my heart couldn’t feel it.

  “Jessie?” Yaya, the kind old woman
came in, carrying a tray with black coffee strong enough to wake the dead, and a pile of freshly baked Greek pastries. “You’re too skinny, eat.”

  “I can’t.”

  She sighs, placing the tray down on the dresser. “Whoever he was…he’s not worth it.”

  “No, he isn’t. But all the same, it is what it is. I-I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same.” A tear slid down my cheek.

  “Ah, you can heal now. The tears are ready to fall. Let them.”

  So, I did. I finally let go of the scraps I was holding myself together with. She held and rocked me like a baby as I let myself weep for the naïve girl I was before I met him and for the woman I am now, missing him and wishing I never left.

  I cried in her soft arms for at least an hour. Finally, I raised my head.

  “Do you need a doctor?” She asked in a sympathetic voice.

  “No. He didn’t hurt me in that way. Besides, I’ve had my period since I left him. No one can know I’m here. He’ll find me if you tell anyone.”

  “Who is this man…so powerful that you fear?”

  “Christos Devillo.”

  A stunned look passed over her face as she digested my words in silence. She crossed herself then stood. “The devil must never find you. I’ll keep you safe. Rest, eat. Someday, you’ll dream again child.”

  “I can’t imagine I ever will. All I do is have sweetest nightmares of him. I’m so ashamed. The things he made me do…things I wanted to do. I can’t even look at myself in the mirror.” I broke off, hoarsely.

  “Eat.” She replied, patting my hand while walking out talking to herself in Greek as she went.

  But I couldn’t even look at food. I felt sick—sick to my stomach every waking moment. My mind is consumed with memories I both wanted to forget and re-live at the same time. I’m at war with myself. I pick up the coffee, taking a few slow sips. I close my eyes remembering how it all started, months earlier.

  It was a day much like this one. So beautiful—one would think it couldn’t be real, much less the portal to hell. I never imagined a man so dark—even the devil himself would make the sign of the cross if they ever met, was lying in wait for me.

  But I’m still conflicted even now what I would’ve done. What choice would I have made, if I knew the trap I’d be caught in? The wave of lust and shame that would crash over me, holding me under, drowning me in a sea of desire, turning me into a woman I hardly recognize.

  A woman whose body and heart are held captive to her master.

  A master whom I’ve run from.

  A master who at this very moment—is hunting me. But I’ve covered my tracks well. And if and when I decide I want to be found—it will be on my terms, not his.

  Maybe I’ll go outside today to dig my toes into the warm sand. Through the pane of the window, the deep blue Aegean Sea beckons.

  He’ll never find me here, on a remote island so small it barely qualifies as one; nestled against a smattering of rocks a swim away from Santorini. It’s the perfect place to hide. But I can’t stay here forever. I need to figure out what to do with my life. Who I want to be; where I want to live. But first I need to just do the little things…like function normally.

  Maybe tomorrow, I’ll leave this room.

  Maybe tomorrow, I’ll take a bite.

  Maybe tomorrow, I’ll hate myself a little bit less.

  Even now, weeks later, my traitorous body still remembers his touch. I spend hours huddled under my sheets, touching myself; pretending he’s telling me what to do, just like he always did.

  He made me do things that would make a call girl blush.

  I hated it.

  Loved it.

  Hated him.

  Loved him?

  It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is surviving the aftermath of what he did to me.

  I had considered myself a strong woman. How did I get reduced to this? I grew up with boys. I was playing baseball and riding dirt bikes while the other girls spent their time on hair and makeup. I spent my prom night in the engine room of my neighbor’s fishing boat learning how to fix a broken carburetor.

  But who’s going to fix me?

  With a shaky breath, I placed the empty coffee mug down. I needed to get out of this room, if I was going to start living again.

  I took a hot shower, combed out my long hair and twisted it into a bun. Yaya has been so good to me. She works in her café all day, then sits, teaching me Greek at night. But I need to earn my keep. Maybe keeping busy will help my mind escape him.

  I quickly dressed in the white shorts and T-shirt Yaya gave me. They belonged to her niece who is away studying at a university. I’d be safe right now if I had stayed at mine. But stupid me, thought I was going to see the world.

  What a naïve, foolish girl I’d been. Picking up a bright green apron, I fastened the strings and walked down the back stairs.

  “Jessie?”

  “I’m fine Yaya. As fine as I can be. I thought I might help. Maybe you could teach me more Greek?”

  “What if someone recognizes you?”

  “How? He never took me anywhere. No one knew we were together…but I guess we weren’t. Not like normal people are, anyway.”

  She smiled, patted my hand, and led me over to the coffee machine. “The first thing you must learn is how to make Greek coffee. Everyone thinks Columbia has the best coffee. They lie. It’s us Greeks.”

  My lips twitched for the first time in weeks. My light had gone dark since that night in Capri. The night where I saw him for who he truly was and ran like hell.

  I grabbed a note pad and began writing down everything Yaya was showing me about how to whip the Greek coffee before adding hot water. But I couldn’t concentrate. A man with dark hair that shined bluish-black in the sun was walking by outside. He was dressed in an expensive suit, and for a moment I thought it was him. But then he looked at me through the window as he swung a giggling toddler in his arms.

  “Jessie?”

  Yaya, asked me to attempt my barista skills. As I whipped the coffee grounds into a creamy foam that rose higher and higher, making a Greek Frappé, I was jolted back to where it all started. I am so far from the girl I was that day and how I mourn her loss.

  1

  Late Spring

  “DID YOU PACK EXTRA SUNSCREEN?”

  “Yes,” I rolled my eyes, clutching the plane ticket that would fly me to freedom.

  “I still think this is a bad idea. Take a semester off, but don’t drop out of school.”

  But it was too late. I withdrew, packed up my dorm room and found a job as a female deckhand on one of the world’s most luxurious mega yachts.

  I wasn’t changing my mind.

  “My flight leaves at six. I need to go.” I pulled my mother in for a long hug, wishing I could be different for her. But no matter how much I tried I couldn’t change who I was: a tomboy, thirsting for the tang of salt tickling my tongue and the fresh ocean breeze tearing through my long, wild hair.

  Over my mother’s shoulders, my eyes met my father’s. I blamed my restlessness on him. I’ve spent my life on the ocean. My father’s a graduate of the Naval Academy in Annapolis. I grew up a navy brat, moving from port to port.

  I tried, I did. But college just wasn’t for me. I felt suffocated—landlocked. I lasted two years at Southern California State before dropping out earlier this semester. My mother was sorely disappointed. But how can I make her understand that being a domestic housewife would be a prison sentence for me? The knot between my shoulder blades tightened. Mom’s eyes were full of the lost dreams she had for me. She wanted me to meet a preppy LA businessman, buy a house in the Hollywood Hills, and spend my days shopping or at a Country Club.

  I’m never going to be some man’s trophy wife. My nails are broken, my toenail polish chipped and I hate wearing makeup. The only designer brands I wear are my True Religion Jeans and Old Navy flip-flops.

  A smile broke out on my lips as I met my father’s knowing gaze,
his eyes were filled with understanding. I let mom go and crossed the carpet to hug him. “Damn, I wish I was going with you. Live your dreams, my Jessie girl. Don’t worry about your mother; she’ll get over it.”

  I hoped he was right. I’m their only child and the light of my father’s eyes, but the pain in my mother’s heart. A honk sounded out front. My driver had arrived. I slung my backpack over one shoulder, gave one last wave and bounded down the front steps. Excitement ran through me like an electric current as we approached the airport. I was almost free.

  My nose pressed against the small window as the plane sped down the runway until the wings caught air. I watched until the lights of San Diego faded away. I was too excited to sleep even though it was a red-eye flight. I spent hours daydreaming, ignoring the snores coming from across the aisle, finally reading on my Kindle until my eyes closed.

  When I landed in Rome, I found a private car waiting to drive me to the coast. My clothes were wrinkled from spending hours on a plane, I probably smelled, and my hair was a tangled mess. But none of that mattered when we reached Capri. My lungs filled with the tang of salt and my nose with the rich fragrance of flowers spilling down stucco walls.

  The port was full. Yachts more impressive than the next sat side by side in the water. When my feet hit the dock, I felt like the luckiest woman in the world. I got to live and work here? And go to bed every night rocked by the swells and waking every morning on water the most gorgeous mix of turquoise and blues? Yes, please. This beat listening to my mom needle me about fixing my teeth with something called Invisalign or doing something to my hair called bailage, any day.

  “Jessie?”

  “Yes, that’s me,” I had answered the deckhand who waited for me with a clipboard in his hands.

  “Welcome to Capri. The port is full. No deep-water slips are open, so we’ll use the tender to ferry you over.”