She stared at me defiantly as she started taking her clothes off with precision, her eyes never leaving mine. She exposed herself to me inch by inch, and as much as she tried to make it fast, she couldn’t help the sensuality that snuck into her movements, making her fingers shake as she pulled off her dress and stood before me in nothing but a pair of lace panties and a matching bralette. Midnight blue. It was her fucking color.
I held back my breath as I watched her get naked, stripping off the underwear. Her tits were small and perky, her belly impossibly flat for the ass she had. She had a thin strip of hair leading up from that sweet little pussy, obviously groomed. I stepped forward, putting my finger unceremoniously between her legs. She gasped as I touched the few hairs on the line above her cunt.
“Got ready for something special?” I growled in her ear, and she recoiled from me, obviously disgusted by my touch.
Tears welled in her eyes as I circled her, giving her instructions and a better understanding of what her life would be like beneath me.
“You will not be allowed to wear clothes,” I told her first. “You will be naked at all times. I won’t allow you the pleasure of fabric, the kindness of letting you cover up.”
She stared at me, her eyes burning with defiance, even though she didn’t say a word. She was better off keeping that pretty little mouth shut anyway. I didn’t like girls who talked back to me.
“You will have your own room,” I went on. “As you will see, the room will not have anything in it but a cage, just for you.”
“I’m not an animal,” she snarled at me, and I grinned widely at her.
“I know you’re not, little orphan,” I told her. “But you are my pretty little bird, aren’t you? And I’m going to make you sing.”
She growled at me, and I could tell she’d gathered all her strength when she launched herself at me, naked and furious. I didn’t let her get far, grabbing her by the wrists and pulling her firmly against me, her lithe body writhing and trembling against my harsh touch.
“Be good,” I warned her. “You don’t want to get punished on your first day. The pain will be unbearable already.”
She seemed to crumple in my arms, almost needing my support to hold her up. Faced with the option of letting her go, I held her in my arms instead, making sure she stayed upright with her scared little heart beating frantically against my chest.
“See?” I asked her. “You can be so good when you try hard for me.”
She went limp in my arms, and I touched my nose to her neck, inhaling her intoxicating scent. She was vanilla and lemon, a fucking addictive combination that made my mouth water and made me want to bite into her skin. But I’d made myself a promise, and I intended on sticking to it. I wasn’t allowed a touch or a taste of sweet little Ophelia, not just yet. Not until she was ripe for me.
“You,” I went on, speaking in the shell of her ear, “are going to spend a long, long time with me. Not days, or weeks, or months. You’re going to spend years here, Ophelia. Do you understand? Do you understand that you’re my fucking prisoner here?”
She whimpered, her eyes looking genuinely frightened as they followed my movements. I smirked at her, satisfied with her response.
“Oh yes,” I told her gently, my voice like a dark caress. “You’re going to go through so many things at my hands, you poor little girl. And you’re going to love it. Every second of it. I’m going to groom you into the perfect little slut. I’m not going to stop until you’re completely, utterly broken. And then I’ll make it all better so I can destroy you again.”
“Why are you doing this?” she whispered, and I gave her a kind smile.
“Because of who you are, of course,” I told her darkly. “Because of what you fucking Sokolovs did to me. They’re all gone now, little orphan. It’s time for you to pay.”
Acknowledgments
I’m so excited to begin a new journey with the characters of Gilded Cage. My previous series, Rose and Thorn, took me on quite the journey, and I am sure Gilded Cage will do the same.
I hope you will join me on this path that leads into darkness… Who knows what’s hiding in the shadows?
A sincere thank you to my team - cover designer Marisa, editor Becky and my boyfriend who beta reads all my books.
Isabella Starling writing as Fawn Bailey
Have you read my other series, Rose and Thorn?
Fall in love with the world of deep, dark secrets and sexy bad men who know exactly what they want and aren't afraid to take it.
I'm a powerful man. Rich, handsome. There are others like me, and we all have one thing in common. One thing we like. Submission. I want you on your knees and asking for more.
I have a set of rules. They are there for a reason - to protect us both. I don't break them. Until her.
Harlow Granger makes me break every. Single. One.
She is an obsession I can't shake. An itch I can't scratch. And finally, a pretty captive I can't resist.
Meet your new owner, little rose. Unlike the other jerks you would have met if I hadn't kidnapped you...
I'll make you mine forever.
Fawn Bailey is the pen name of USA Today bestselling author Isabella Starling. Blood Red Rose is the first book in the Rose and Thorn trilogy.
Sneak Peek
Chapter 1 - Harlow
It was Christmastime, and London was freezing. A lacy coverlet of snow had fallen. It didn’t promise to stay, but it whispered of cold, exciting nights under the stars and the inky blue sky. Magic was in the air, sweet, playful magic that promised to work its forces on every single person in the Estate Theater.
None of us noticed the creeping darkness, slowly bleeding in through the brick building, its cold, clawlike tendrils enticing me to join the dark side.
Despite the cold, the dressing room at the back of the theater was too warm. The air, thick and fragrant with the scent of flowers, filled with noise. It was Friday night, well past midnight, and the crew had collapsed in remarkably good moods after our first performance of The Nutcracker.
I fell back into a chair, a sigh leaving my lips as I kicked off my ballet shoes. High on our success and our sold-out performance, energy danced through my veins. Finally, after years of practice and hard work, I knew with absolute certainty I had done more than well. Not only that, but for the first time, I managed to thoroughly impress my trainer, Madame Dugare. She was harsh on me, always urging me to do more, jump higher, try harder. And I gave it my all, sometimes wondering when it would pay off. Every vestige of my power went into dancing, while every pound I made went toward costumes and training. I lived for it, lived for the dance and the exquisite beauty permeating my body when I stood center stage, en pointe, with my thick lashes wide open to reveal the crowd.
Oh, the crowd… I lived for them too, every single person in the audience, their applause, their cheers, their inability to look away.
Mummy used to call me a dancer when I was a little girl.
She said she knew I’d be dancing under the stars, among them, and finally, becoming one as I stepped front and center, my eyes bright with dreams and my body poised, trained to perfection.
For a long time, I thought I was doing this for her. The dancing, the life—no personal contacts, knowing no one but the people connected to the business. Devoting my whole life to dance, to ballet, letting the stunning art shape me into a person.
Other times, when I felt low, I wondered what Mummy would think if she saw me now.
With blistered, broken feet, and a body so thin it looked emaciated. With hair that shone like gold and big blue eyes that seemed manic when I danced.
What would she think of the young woman I had become?
But it didn’t matter either way. I was a success and felt on top of the world, and by tomorrow, I would be joining a more prominent ballet. There was no way they wouldn’t take me after seeing this performance. The critics loved my dancing. When I’d heard that, I didn’t believe it at first. Yes, I was beyond happy with my performance and that of our group, but still, this was a cutthroat industry, and to receive glowing reviews and so early on… I literally pinched myself to make sure I hadn’t been dreaming.
“Harlow!”