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Copyright 2017 Daisy Rose
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. No part in this book may be reproduced, transmitted, stored, or distributed without permission of the author or publisher.
This is the second book of a trilogy. Stockholm Syndrome features a dominating black male who takes control of a young woman who yields to him utterly and completely.
It also contains scenes including exhibitionism (office & balcony), domination, bondage, and submission.
Chapters with 18+ scenes are indicated with an asterisk (*).
This book can be enjoyed on its own, but for optimum reading experience, check out the first book of the Toxic Love trilogy first.
Brazen and beautiful private detective, Mia Faye has never been caught doing anything illegal. That is, until she takes a new job and agrees to steal something deeply personal from an infamous billionaire, Damon Davis. After breaking into his mansion, she finds herself witnessing perverted acts involving a young woman and a group of strangers.
She steals what she needs and escapes, only to fall into the clutches of the mysterious man soon after. And what begins as a simple job turns into so much more...
It was one o'clock in the morning when I opened my eyes and stirred. I looked around in panic and relaxed only when I caught my reflection on the old box TV by the couch. I was home.
I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed when my fingers were tangled in my hair. My normally smooth and silky hair was messy enough to comfortably house a family of birds. A good warm shower would do me some good but my legs were too heavy to carry me anywhere.
I hadn't left my apartment since I set foot in it a week ago. It was prison of my own making, except there were no guards outside my door to keep me from escaping and the door didn't lock from the outside.
"You're awake," James's voice came from behind me and I turned to face him. He hadn't left my side since I returned. I had grown accustomed to having him around but I knew it was selfish of me to keep him to myself.
"Shouldn't you be home?" I asked, trying to force a smile for his sake but the muscles on my mouth wasn't working.
"I still have work to do," he answered simply, gesturing to the laptop he had on my dining room table. He seemed to have taken on one of those online assignments, one which did not require him to leave his laptop to get the job done.
The light from the laptop reflected in his pearly black pupils. He wasn't looking at the screen. His darkened eyes were focused solely on me and I couldn't help but feel my heartbeat speed up. It was like he could see through all my secrets without asking.
Not once had he questioned me about my abduction, choosing to let me heal in my own time.
He told me that I was only gone a few days, not long enough for the police to be seriously involved. It felt like an eternity.
I knew James had questions, but he had been waiting patiently for me to heal before asking. He deserved answers. When I was returned back to my apartment, he was like a raging animal, shouting obscenities at the police officers who didn't believe I was actually missing. I was only gone a few days and private detectives are known for being mysterious and taking odd jobs that takes us away from human contact for short, sometimes long periods of time. Me being missing wasn't a big deal in their opinions. James knew something was wrong.
I opened my mouth, as if to confess everything, but when no words came out, I closed them and leaned back down on the couch.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk to me about it." James's soothing voice echoed in the house and I felt tears fill my eyes. "If you'd like me to find a therapist for you..."
"No," I answered almost too quickly. "I'll be fine," I added, careful not to sound panicked. I drew in a deep breath and began to remind myself of all the good things in my life, starting with the day I found James and started my first job with him. He was the one who saw promise in me.
I didn't want to be a private detective back then. I didn't even know that was a profession anyone could aim towards. It certainly never came up in career counseling classes.
I didn't find James. He found me.
I had been naively tracking down a person who had been making threatening comments towards Angie, my best friend at the time. He said he was going to track her down and cut her up. He changed accounts every time he was banned and continued harassing her, threatening to do all sorts of things to her. It wasn't long before she started self-harming. I took it upon myself to hunt the man down.
It took a little while for me to finally track down the man. He was a thirty-something-year-old tattooed drug addict who lived in a debilitated house in a bad area of town.
I decided to confront him on my own, marching up to his door and letting myself in when he didn't respond. The apartment smelled or beer and cigarettes. It found him on the couch with the laptop on his beer belly and immediately regretted my decision to come unarmed. The only thing I had with me that could be used as self defense is a pepper spray.
"Leave Angie alone, you fat fuck," I said as a way of getting his attention.
He looked up his laptop with his crazed, sunken eyes and I knew I've made a terrible mistake. It shouldn't have surprised me that he didn't appreciate being told what to do by a girl, or having his eyes sprayed with pepper spray.
If James hadn't shown up when he did, I would've ended up much worse. I escaped with a black eye and a broken arm.
"Come work with me," he offered as he sat by me in the hospital bed.
I stared at him as if he had grown a second head. I had just finished high school and was applying to universities, a task that was proving to be harder than I expected due to the fact that I didn't have any money. "You look unemployed," I said. It was true. He was wearing a brown shirt that was torn around the seams and a pair of black slacks that looked too comfortable to be a work uniform. His hair was shorter back then, a mess of frizzy curls that went all over the place.
He had a bruise on his cheek from getting punched earlier, but that didn't show on his dark skin. My own pale cheek was fast turning an ugly shade of green.
"I'm a private investigator," he said as if that explained everything.
"And I'm the Queen of England," I responded.
"Angie's parents hired me to find out who had been bothering her and causing her to relapse," he continued, ignoring my snappy comment. "It took a little while, but I managed to track him down. I was surprised you managed to get to him before me. How did you manage to do it?" he asked.
"I figured out his IP address and traced it back to its source," I said with a shrug. It had taken a bit of reading and a lot of learning. "Then I asked around."
"Have you done anything like this before?" he asked.
I shook my head. "Never had to."
"Most kids your age are in university right now, so I can only assume you aren't studying. Someone as smart as you, it's probably money related. Am I right?"
I bristled at his correct deduction, but didn't respond.
"Come work with me," he offered again. "You salary will depend on the number of jobs we can get, but it shouldn't take long for you to earn enough to get a degree. Though I suspect you might enjoy the job enough to just stick with me."
He's lying, I told myself. But there was no need for him to lie. If he hadn't showed up when he did, the crazy asshole would've gotten a few more kicks at me and broken ribs. I escaped with relatively minor injuries. My breast ached from getting his boots on me and my arm was in a cast. Other than random bruises on my face and body (as well as my ego), I was fine.
"Why do you need me?" I asked, still suspicious of his sudden offer.
"Why did you track down Kenny?" he countered with a question.
"He was hurting my friend," I answered truthfully. He hadn't taught me the art of lying through my teeth yet. "Why were you tracking him?" I asked in returned.
"For the money," he answered without skipping a beat. "Angie's family offered me a grand to make that kid shut up."
I stared at him with different eyes then. When he came to my rescue, I was curled up in a ball on the dirty floor of the apartment complex. He arrived like an avenging god and came down on Kenny like a demon.
I escaped with bruises and a broken arm, but Kenny couldn't even stand up straight after James was done with him. "If you ever come near Angie or her," he gestured at me, "I'll make sure you'll never walk again."
I tried to get up, but he swooped down and lifted me easily into his arms. "Where's your car?" was the only thing he asked me before he got me to the hospital.
Whoever this man was, he was dangerous and I needed to proceed with caution.
"Are you going to pay for my hospital bills?" I asked and berated myself for having no sense of self preservation.
He smiled for the first time since I've seen him and nodded. "You're going to have to pay me back for that."
It wasn't long before I realized why he wanted me to work together with him. His large frame and perpetually angry expression made him hard to approach and even harder to open up to. I had the people skills that he lacked.