Capital Risk (The Legacy Series #3)
Copyright © 2015 by Lana Grayson
Published by Tika Lake Publishing
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you’d like to share it with. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Cover Design: Rebecca Berto
Cover Images Purchased from: http://www.periodimages.com
Other Works By Lana Grayson:
Takeover – The Legacy Series #1
Controlling Interests – The Legacy Series #2
Warlord – Anathema MC Series #1
Exiled – Anathema MC Series #2
Knight – Anathema MC Series #3
Coming November 3rd, 2015!
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This story is a continuation of a dark step-brother romance which will include scenes of captivity, physical abuse, sexual encounters with multiple partners, and non-consensual situations.
The series will end with a Happily Ever After, and will not feature themes of cheating/adultery.
All of the characters are over the age of eighteen and are of no blood relation.
No Hamlets will be harmed in the writing of this manuscript.
However, certain scenes and descriptions may be uncomfortable for some readers. Please read with care .
To My Husband...
One series down…
a bunch more to go ;)
Table of Contents
Sneak Peek-While They Watch (New Series Coming 2016!)
It isn’t his.
It isn’t his.
It isn’t his.
The words recoiled in my mind like a gunshot.
The truth didn’t break my heart—it ruptured, bled, and ground it to ash.
A surge of bile burned my throat. Morning sickness was dreadful, but this time it wasn’t the baby. The lingering shadow of my nightmare leeched the courage from me.
I woke in a cold sweat, fearing the pounding of fists knocking at my door.
Silence. Only the hum of the broken air-conditioner crackled the stillness.
Hamlet wasn’t the best guard dog. He wasn’t a guard anything, but even he might have rolled over if someone had broken into my room. Instead he grumbled, snored, and tucked next to me, claiming most of the bed.
At least he could sleep.
I slunk from the bed to double-check the deadbolt. The metal knob didn’t reassure me. No lock in the world would protect me from them.
And that was why it was time to stop running.
The hotel’s humidity suffocated me, but the shower sputtered icy water. I washed quickly, my hand just barely brushing my belly. My tummy was still flat.
But I knew.
The wedding sucked, but at least Josiah brought me a drink with more rum than Coke. I gulped it down before Mike took it away. Unfair. He was already trashed.
“How long do we have to stay?” I picked at a hunk of sugary cake. A blob of icing smeared over my black dress. I rubbed it off. “I can’t be around these people anymore.”
Josiah got Mom’s looks but Dad’s impatience. “Sprout, just smile and eat your cake. All you gotta do is take a couple pictures. We’re the ones dealing with these assholes.”
“Oh, I’ll gladly deal with Darius for you.”
“Not happening,” Mike said. “I don’t trust that bastard. You stay as far from him as you can. In fact, steer clear of all the Bennetts. They’re bad news.”
“Too late.” Josiah stiffened and crossed his arms, more bouncer than brother. “Try not to accuse anyone of murder, Sprout. Not while the minister’s still around.”
The golden-eyed intruder nodded to my brothers before offering his hand for a formal handshake. My brothers refused, but one of us needed to be polite. I slipped my palm into his and blamed the rum for the quick flush to my cheeks.
If Nicholas Bennett noticed, he said nothing.
I liked the melty-smoothness of his voice and decided against throwing my drink in his face.
“Ms. Atwood, would you care to dance?”
Mom said to be cordial, and Nicholas seemed sincere enough. The radiating heat from his hand cascaded over me in unwelcomed shivers….shivers too good to feel for a Bennett. I nodded. One dance, and then I could pretend I behaved myself at a wedding more enemy infiltration than celebration.
Like a proper gentleman, Nicholas led me to the dance floor, but a condescending slur interrupted us with false praise and deceitful compliments.