Her Dom (Beauty and the Captor 3)

My gaze went to the corner where the guy was still cowering to try to give Michael and Alicia a quasi-private moment. Tears were streaming down Michael’s cheeks, and I figured that was probably something a guy didn’t want another guy to see.

But what was I supposed to do with the bundle of nervous energy in the corner? He was a loose end. Six months ago, I would have slit his throat or put a bullet in his brain without a second’s thought. I didn’t want to be that monster anymore.

“He’s that man’s son,” Scar whispered, pointing to the worthless lump of flesh who had been holding Alicia. “The man kept hitting him because he wouldn’t…help.”

All right, that was a point in the guy’s favor, but there was one more thing I needed to know. “Did he touch you, Scar?” I didn’t give a fuck how many times the guy’s father had hit him; if he’d hurt or violated her in any way, he was dead.

“No, he didn’t.”

“Come here, kid,” I yelled over to him. I wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to do with him yet, but I had to do something.

He stood up and approached cautiously, though his eyes darted around the room, probably searching for a way out. The guy had no fucking idea how lucky he was.

He stopped a couple yards away. “I didn’t…I didn’t do that, Senor,” he said, nodding toward Scar. “I no want to be here, si?”

“The only reason I’m letting you live is because you didn’t hurt her. Do you understand?”

Surprise lit his dark eyes as he nodded vigorously. “Si, I understand, Senor. I no hurt her.”

“Money? Do you have money?”

He scrambled into his pockets and held out a handful of coins, thinking I was…what?—going to let him live for the five bucks he had? He wasn’t the brightest, was he? It did help answer my question though—the guy had nothing.

The most ridiculous idea of my life came to me then. But hell, I decided to run with it. I was turning over a new leaf—and this guy was about to come along for the ride.

“You’re coming with us. You work for me now. A job. Money. A real future—but on one condition.”

The guy’s eyes were as big as saucers. I wanted to laugh, but I held it back.

“Si, Senor. Condition, si.”

“If you ever hurt these women, or do anything your father did—to anyone—I’ll kill you. Understand?”

More vigorous nodding and his expression was…happy. It felt good to know I was the reason for it. Strange as hell, but good.

And now I had my own full-time employee. For what, I had no fucking idea, but the way Scar was smiling up at me for what I’d just done for the guy made it more than worth it. I’d figure out something for him to do…I never could garden worth shit.

Scar would like nice gardens, I thought. And if, in between gardens, the guy happened to devote himself to making sure Scar was always safe…well, who the fuck could argue with that arrangement?

Epilogue

Scarlett

I woke with a start and bolted upright in bed. Derek was already awake too, staring up at me through sleep-bleary eyes. He needed rest, I decided, but before I could swing my legs over the side of the bed, he was already up, padding barefoot across the room in all his naked glory.

His footsteps fell silently on the plush carpet, though I finally knew why this was the only room with carpeting. He’d told me that during the years he’d spend locked in his foster family’s basement, the ground had been hard as rock and cold as ice. As ridiculous as he still thought it was, he used to dream about waking up in his old home, getting up in the morning and feeling the soft, thick carpet beneath his bare feet. It was a small dream, but he’d vowed that if he ever got out of there, he’d never get out of bed and feel the bite of a cold floor ever again.

I still ached for the boy who’d been trapped in that basement, but I was so glad to know he would never feel that biting cold—in his feet or in his heart—ever again.

“Do you want me to try walking with him for a little while so you can get some sleep?” he asked as he lifted our son from his bassinet and cradled him in his arms.

Our son. Michael—our beautiful, baby boy with dark hair and vivid blue eyes. Just like his father’s.

Even before Michael was born, I’d come to realize Derek would love him no matter what. He would love the child I’d carried inside me because he was a part of me. The day Michael was born though, I knew life couldn’t possibly get any more perfect. Our son looked so much like Derek, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that the fates had finally conspired in our favor.