Page 24 of Capturing the Ruthless Billionaires

The gown Cara had chosen now clung to her curves like skin. The pristine white silk dipped down the center of her cleavage and down her back in the same style. It reached the floor, the fabric luxurious against her gleaming skin, which glowed with scented oils and perfume, making her feel as if she were floating.

The dress hugged her scented lavender and vanilla curves. Her hair had been washed and brushed until it gleamed like satin and hung down her back.

When Alexandria had asked for something plainer, Cara had adamantly told her that was the dress she had to wear for tonight. She did, however, drape a velvet cape around her shoulders so Alexandria didn’t feel too cold, then led her downstairs to the dining hall.

“Have fun,” she whispered at the door of the dining hall. “I want you to get to know my brothers. I want you to love them as much as I do, Alexandria. And I want the same for Rhea.”

“Wait, you’re not staying with me?”

“No. They want to see you alone. And I already had my dinner.” She kissed Alexandria on the cheek. “I’m so happy my family will be whole again soon. It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

The instant Cara turned to leave, icy-cold, familiar dread poured out of her pores, freezing her to the spot.

She looked down at what she was wearing. The white dress, the velvet cape, and her oiled skin. Had Cara known? No. No, she couldn’t have known. She thought her brothers wanted to have dinner with her; that was all.

Cara hadn’t known she had been dressing Alexandria up for another ritual. Another sacrifice. This time a Dragon ritual. Fear clouded her vision. Heat, like a dragon’s breath, consumed her. She couldn’t go through something like this again, not when they planned to use it as revenge.

A panic attack rose inside her. She had to run away. In the woods, in the darkness. Be anywhere but here.

She couldn’t do this again. She could let them touch her when her body was no longer hers. When all she remembered was them. Inside her. They would know how weak she is, how she would crumble and beg under their touch.

She shook her head at the door. No, she wasn’t going in there. But before her next breath, before she could turn on her heel, the double doors in front of her opened. Oblivious to the two men, dressed in dark suits, who fell in on either side of her, not touching her but ready to block her retreat, all she could see ahead of her were them.

Her knees shook. Her heart banged against her chest mercilessly. She was going to do one of two things: fall to her knees and beg to be released, or keep her head held high.

She chose the latter.

She stepped into the room, her gaze nervously cataloging its design. The vast extent of the room was littered with miniature fireplaces along the walls, swirling sensual heat around the room. A table, laden with a banquet feast, caught her attention as well. There were only four chairs around the table.

At the end of the room, on three dragon thrones, sat her executioners. Her breath caught. A quiver ran down her spine, tickling her senses and lulling her into believing she was not in danger because they were too handsome and too gorgeous to look at. Their presence did dark sensual things to her body—things that made the center between her thighs warm and wet and throb.

She could so easily believe they didn’t hate her for who she was. So easily live the lie if it meant she could keep looking at them. Their eyes, their jawlines, and the shape and power of their bodies.

But they were going to hurt her. That was the only reason she was here.

It was payback time. As if the instrument had lured her gaze toward it, she found herself looking at a camera, recording every breath she took.

They stood up from their thrones, more powerful than real dragons and more deadly too. With easy, confident steps, they stepped off the dais and strode toward her.

Alexandria swallowed the hard lump of fear in her throat. If they got any closer, they would hear her heart beating and feel the way she was quivering. She willed herself to stand tall. What’s the worst that they could do to her?

Her parents had her imprisoned while they decided her sentence. Nothing could hurt her now.

She lifted her chin defiantly.

“Do your worst,” she murmured without a smile. Lachlan chuckled. Cian smiled. Slade looked at her as if he could reach into and grab her soul before he crushed it in his hand.

She couldn’t contain the whimper or the way her body sagged when Slade dismissed the servants from the room. They closed the door behind her, sealing her in with three men who tortured her before they killed her, and sent the footage to her family as part of the vengeance pact for taking Cara, their sister. She never stood a chance. Her parents, the councilmen, never stood a chance of messing with these men.

In one fell swoop, they were victors and would remain unchallenged forever.

She stood perfectly still when Cian reached for the ribbon at her throat. The cape slipped off her glossy shoulders and down her arms. She shivered despite the warmth surrounding her.

Their gazes slid down her body. The flimsy silk thong she wore was not sustainable enough to soak up the wetness dripping from her.

What was wrong with her? Was she mad? How could she not tell the difference between nice men and three psychos hell-bent on revenge?

“I would rather throw myself into the fire than have you touch me,” she said, her fury building and her resolve crashing around her. She wanted to leave this place and never see them again. She bent to pick up the cape at her feet, but Slade slid his shiny black shoe onto it, and no amount of tugging she did would free the cape from under his foot. But that didn’t mean she stopped tugging. She was on my knees now.

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