The Gilded Chain

Book 3: Surrender

by Lauren Smith

Genres: Billionaires Romance; Contemporary Romance; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

Explore a hidden world of erotic fantasies, where the greatest pleasures are stolen and the fiercest passions are untamed . . .

For years, Callie Taylor has been obsessed with two things: a man she can never have and escaping to Paris, where she can follow her artistic passions. But everything changes when Callie meets Wes Thorne, a wealthy, mysterious art collector and famous dominant. Despite all the nights she's spent dreaming of another man, it is Wes's predatory gaze that suddenly consumes her every thought and sets her body on fire. One touch from him promises unforgettable passion, but Callie knows that passion often comes with a price . . .

From the moment he sets eyes on Callie, Wes is intrigued by her artistic talent and her delightful innocence of all things erotic. A stolen kiss leaves him aching and desperate to claim her in a way he's never wanted any woman. But first he must convince her to surrender her control. And what better place to seduce an artistic soul like Callie's than Paris?

Book 3 in the Surrender series

Release date: November 3, 2015

Publisher: Grand Central Publishing

Print pages: 295

Sample

Chapter 1

Someday after we have mastered the air, the winds, the tides and gravity, we will harness for god the energies of love. And then for the second time in the history of the world, man will have discovered fire.

—Teilhard de Chardin

You are cordially invited to the engagement party of Hayden Thorne and Fenn Lockwood—”

With a pained gasp, Callie Taylor ripped the expensive cream card and blinked hard against the thick tears that started to drip down her cheeks. Fenn, the man she’d loved her entire life, was getting married to her friend Hayden. It was too much to process over the sudden and shattering pain inside her chest. With a little ragged gasp of breath, she glanced about her small bedroom, her last refuge on the wide open expanse of her father’s land. The only place she could really call her own on Broken Spur ranch.

Her room was covered with painting canvases, sketchbooks, and palettes with half-dried paint smears. For years she’d painted her dreams, and those dreams had always included Fenn. But a month ago her entire world in the little Colorado town of Walnut Springs had been flung on its head when Fenn’s real identity was discovered. He was the long-lost twin to Emery Lockwood, heir to the vast technology-based fortune, who lived on Long Island. Once Fenn had learned who he really was, Callie had known she would lose him forever, but standing there holding his engagement announcement in her hand was the first time she’d had cold hard proof of that fact.

The moment Wes Thorne, Fenn’s childhood friend and Hayden’s brother, had placed the engagement announcement card in her hands, her dream was dead. The man she was in love with was going to marry someone else. And not just anyone, but Hayden Thorne. When she’d first met Hayden, she’d instantly liked the other woman as a friend. A pang of envy rippled through her, casting a green tint to her heart.

I’m happy for them…but…

Disgust came after, weighing her chest down like invisible stones. She shouldn’t be jealous of Hayden, not when she cared so much about her friend. But the thought of watching her get married to Fenn? She couldn’t think. It was too awful…She let the torn pieces drop from her hands and float slowly to the floor of her bedroom. Little fingerprint smudges coated the pieces of the card where her paint-covered hands had rubbed on the expensive paper as she’d ripped it to shreds. Those vibrant colored pieces lay at her feet in a mocking collage that only made fresh tears burn in the corners of her eyes.

Footsteps on the stairs drew her attention. Had her father come up to check on her or was it Wes? When Wes had shown up at the Broken Spur a few minutes ago with a letter from Fenn, Callie hadn’t been able to help herself. Having no idea of the damning information the letter contained, she’d gone straight to her room to read it. Too excited to have one scrap of affection from Fenn or any sign that he might be missing her while he spent time on Long Island with his family, she’d blown right past her father and Wes as if they’d ceased to exist.

God, I’m such a fool. How could she have been so blind as to not see that while Fenn was learning who he really was, he was also falling in love with Hayden? God, they even looked good together, both of them beautiful and perfect: Fenn with height and muscled build and gold hair, Hayden with her bold red locks and stunning body. A wave of nausea rolled through her stomach. I’m just the sad little hanger-on sister to him. I never even had a chance. She’d opened her heart to him, given him everything that she was, and never held back. And what had that gotten her? A broken heart. And it was entirely her own fault.

Whoever had come up the stairs now knocked on her bedroom door. Pull yourself together, she told herself, and using the back of her hands, she wiped away any evidence of her tears.

“Who is it?” she called out, desperate to hide the way she was crumbling to pieces.

Her dad couldn’t see her like this. He’d only just gotten home from the hospital after his heart attack a month ago, and seeing her hurting wouldn’t do him any good. He was supposed to be resting, letting the new ranch hands and construction workers handle all the heavy lifting and major work. Not that Jim Taylor ever understood the idea of resting.

“Callie, it’s me, Wes.” Wes Thorne’s voice was soft on the other side of the door, as though he was trying to be nice. He wasn’t nice. He was a wolf, a predator. She’d figured that out the moment she had first laid eyes on him when he and his sister, Hayden, had shown up at the ranch to tell Fenn who he really was and to take him home, away from her. Wes was the last person she wanted to see right now.

“Go away,” she called out. When there was no sound of retreating footsteps, she crept over to her bedroom door and opened it just a crack. She came face to face with an expensive suit shirt and an immaculately tied silk tie. The man always looked like he’d walked out of a Vanity Fair magazine ad. Raising her gaze up his chest, she saw his throat, then his full lips, and finally his cobalt blue eyes.

Wes, the harbinger of her own personal doom, stood there, worry knitting his brows as he gazed down at her.

“Are you all right? I thought I heard…” He studied her, probably seeing her red eyes. The last thing she needed was his pity.

“I’m sorry.” She shoved past him, escaping her bedroom and his assessing gaze as she ran down the stairs, tears almost blinding her vision. She had to get out of here, get away from him, from her father. She wanted to find a quiet dark place and curl up in a ball to lick her wounds, not handle twenty questions from men who didn’t have a clue what she was going through. Have to be alone. Have to.

She hit the bottom of the stairs and passed through the living room just as her father appeared in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Callie, honey, you okay, sweetheart? You look like you’ve been crying.” Jim started toward her, but she held up a hand.

“I’m fine, Dad. I just need to go for a ride, okay? I’ll be back in a few hours.” And without another word to him, she rushed out onto the small porch of their ranch house.

Even as the fresh Colorado mountain air hit her lungs, it wasn’t enough. She still couldn’t breathe…She needed space, distance, to clear her head. She hoped both Wes and her father would leave her alone. Wes would hopefully focus on what he always did. Business. If he stayed close to the new cabins being constructed she could avoid him.

Something about him unnerved her. He was so damn quiet and intense. She didn’t like that intensity. It made her pulse beat faster and her palms sweaty. Not like Fenn. Fenn was safe, didn’t make her edgy or her breath quicken with a queasy anticipation. It was too confusing. Wes made her feel like a skittish barn cat.

Shoving thoughts of him away, she sprinted to the barn where her quarter horse, Volt, was in his stall, happily munching on oats. This is what she needed. To get outside and ride away from everything that left her hurt and confused. Volt was fast and he’d help her escape. Ever since she’d been a child, riding had been her outlet, a way to get free of everything. It was her father’s fault really. When her mother had died, Callie had been only four, and her father had bought her a small pony to give her something to care for and to learn to ride. From then on, riding had been her go-to cure for a broken heart.

Callie threw a bridle over Volt’s head and then put a blanket and saddle on him. Volt huffed and bumped his nose affectionately against her shoulder as she cinched the girth strap and then led him from his stall. She didn’t even wait to get out of the barn before she mounted up.

Once she was astride the horse, she kicked his sides, clicking her tongue, and Volt jolted forward. She broke him into a canter to warm him up. He didn’t need much to get into the rhythm. Another swift kick and he was shooting across the back field, straight toward the mountains. The wind lashed her hair in stinging slaps across her face, but the pain felt good. It was a pain she’d rather focus on instead of the searing agony in her chest.

Volt seemed to sense her need to flee, and he ran like wild lightning from a summer storm. Ahead of them, the wooded mountains were carved with trails of bright green grass. Callie urged Volt to gallop parallel to the grove of Aspen trees that bordered the farthest edge of her family’s property. The white trunks looked like slender ghosts weaving through the dappled sunlight. The brilliant gold leaves reminded her of the cadmium paint color she’d been mixing on her palette this morning. This morning. So much had changed since then.

A few hours ago she had been experimenting with acrylic paints, dabbling really, since she had no clue how to use that particular medium. A half-painted canvas, one depicting the Aspen leaves falling, was supposed to be a gift for Fenn Lockwood, to remind him of the home he’d had at Broken Spur. And even though he now had a new life on Long Island, Broken Spur would always be a part of him. At least, that’s what she’d hoped as she lost herself in creating the painting. It had been twenty-five years since Fenn had come to Walnut Springs. Twenty-five years since Jim and Maggie had taken Fenn in as a surrogate son. An entire quarter of a century where Fenn had been unaware of the family looking for him thousands of miles away. Roots like that didn’t just disappear, did they? Even if she couldn’t be Fenn’s future, she was certainly a part of his past and she clung to that thought like a lifeline.

Everything about Fenn had been perfect. Tall, muscled, blond-haired, and hazel-eyed, he’d been her dream in Wranglers and a fitted plaid shirt, like a god born to rule the wild lands from centuries ago before man trespassed here. A strong, quiet, intense man who cared for everyone around him with such a depth of emotion that it scared her sometimes. But she couldn’t stay away.

She had followed him wherever he went, to every bull-riding competition he participated in, and he’d even been her date to her senior prom since she’d been eighteen and allowed to bring an older date. All of her friends had been so jealous, but that night, she’d hoped more than anything he’d kiss her. He hadn’t, except for a brotherly kiss on the cheek before sending her upstairs to bed. Never once had she dared to tell him how she loved him, but she’d shown him in every breath, every look, every action she could. And it hadn’t been enough to even turn his head. Would it have mattered if she’d told him how she felt? No. It wouldn’t. Because he looks at Hayden in a way he’s never looked at me. Some truths hurt. Bad. Bad enough that she suddenly had trouble breathing again past the burst of a sob.

And now he was getting married. To Hayden.

Tears dripped down her face. She wasn’t even sure if it was the wind or from her broken heart. Tugging on the reins, she slowed Volt down. He dropped back into a canter and then to a walk.

“Easy boy,” she crooned and patted his muscular neck. “You always want to push too hard for too long.” It was something she sometimes felt inside herself. A wild need to push herself beyond her own limits until she broke free.

Volt tossed his head, his black mane flaring in a ripple over his skin as though to protest her words but kept their leisurely pace as they moved along the line of Aspen trees, his hooves churning the blanket of vivid yellow leaves. They were a few months away from heavy snow, but there was no mistaking the distant aroma of winter. Something about that scent calmed her. Snow buried. Snow covered. It hid away things that needed to be erased or at least temporarily forgotten.

Could she forget her broken heart if it lay beneath an early snowfall? Perhaps, but it didn’t erase the fact that she would have to go to the engagement party. See them smiling, together, posing for pictures, holding each other close. Things she’d never get to do with Fenn.

The winding gold trail that Volt climbed soon led to a small hill where large gray rocks littered the slope. She tugged back on his reins, and he halted. Callie slid off his back and led him to a copse of trees. After looping his reins around a sturdy low branch of a nearby tree, she walked over to the outcropping of rocks and climbed up a particularly thick, waist-high rock half covered in pale wintergreen moss. She let one leg dangle down the front of the rock while she tucked her other leg up and rested her chin on her knee.

Clouds swept across the skies, their shadows playing a game of chase upon the rolling hills and tree-strewn valleys below. Her father had shown her this spot after her mother had died. The two of them had been lost without her. Nature had become the mother she’d lost. Her father had taught her that a person could find peace here, under the brilliant skies and in the changing winds.

A few stray tears escaped her eyes, but she didn’t wipe them away. There was no one here to witness her breaking apart in a thousand pieces, just the wind, skies, and mountains, and they’d hold her secret heartache for as long as she needed them to.

She knew she was a fool to think that Fenn could ever return her feelings, but she hadn’t been able to stop herself from hoping. But now it was certain; there would be no Cinderella moment for her, no grand transformation. Just life on the ranch and perhaps a job in the town, if she didn’t need to work with her father.

What I need to do is find a way to move on. Learn to live without him.

A flood of memories engulfed her, the way Fenn used to hug her and ruffle a hand through her hair, the way he’d carried her up to bed when she’d been ten years old after she’d fallen asleep on the couch. How his natural scent would cling to his coats and she’d used to wear them when he wasn’t around, just to feel close to him.

Such a fool…to love so much and lose so much.

She couldn’t let this happen again. No more falling in love. No more exposing her soul in hopes someone would see her for who she was. There could be no half measures here—she couldn’t stand this kind of pain again.

I’m done with men, done with love, done with all of that romantic nonsense. It’s not worth the pain. Callie was never going to let her heart dupe her into falling for a man ever again.

Her composure back in place, Callie rubbed her palms on her jeans and then slid off the boulder. She walked back to Volt, who was waiting patiently for her. She unwound the reins from the branch.

“Time to go back.” She didn’t want to, but she was a big girl and had to face this, even if it killed her piece by piece.

*  *  *

Wes Thorne stood on the porch of one of the brand-new, nearly completed luxury cabins that was being constructed on the backside of the Broken Spur ranch lands facing the mountains. The wood of the porch railing was slightly rough but would be smoothed out with a sander soon. The oak was solid and firm and a rich color of brown that was pleasing to the eye. These cabins would be incredibly lucrative for Jim and Callie.

The scheme had been his sister Hayden’s idea when she realized Jim was in danger of losing the ranch because they’d defaulted on their high mortgage payments. Hayden had suggested to Wes that they build cabins on the property and use them as a destination for high-stress workaholics who needed a vacation from 24/7 e-mail and super-powered cell service. It was brilliant of course, but he wasn’t surprised. Hayden was a better businesswoman than he was a businessman when it came down to it. He loved art more than business, but he thankfully had a great amount of success in his own business as an art expert.

While his sister was preoccupied with her wedding plans, he’d agreed to come out and check the progress of the cabins. He’d known telling Callie about Fenn and Hayden’s engagement wasn’t going to end well. From the moment he’d met the wild, free-spirited Callie, he’d known she was in love with Fenn. Her heart was pinned on her sleeve for the world to see, and he’d hated having to be the person to deliver the news that would cut her sweet, innocent little heart to shreds.

She’d taken it worse than he’d expected. He’d gone up to check on her, and when she’d answered her door her eyes were red and her cheeks were still stained with shiny tears. There was a wildness to her anguish that was breathtakingly gorgeous and something in him had rumbled, like a deep quake beneath the earth. Her pain had unsettled him, and few things ever unsettled him. So he’d decided to stay a few days to make sure she was going to be all right. Of course, if anyone asked, he was only staying to check on the cabins. That was his story and he was sticking to it. He shook his head. He couldn’t leave her when she…Wes stopped himself. She didn’t need him. Hell, he doubted she even liked him. She was always running off, hiding, avoiding eye contact as though she was nervous around him.

None of that changed the fact that he wanted her. For the last several weeks he’d been caught up in fantasies of having her in his bed, wrists and legs bound, body completely bare and ready for him to explore every inch of her with his mouth and hands as he introduced her to his darker world of pleasure. The things he wanted to do…craved to do to her were driving him slowly mad.

He’d never lusted after a woman like he did Callie and he couldn’t figure out why that was. She was young, innocent, not his usual type. So why then did his hands twitch with the urge to touch her whenever she was close, and the hint of her scent after she’d freshly showered and walked past his room seemed to carve itself into his bones? While he’d been away from her, he’d attempted to convince himself it was a silly obsession. When he bolted up in the middle of the night in his empty bed and he was hard and frustrated because she wasn’t there beside him he’d told himself it was nothing but an itch he needed to scratch to get out of his system. But now that he was here with her, so close that he could see all those unhidden emotions on her face, especially the pain he’d caused by coming here…leaving was impossible. And the itch…it wasn’t temporary.

He was going to have her. It was only a matter of time. He’d vowed the moment he set eyes on her that she was going to be his. He needed to tame her, to bring her into his world. It would take a long, slow seduction, but Callie would be his. She had to be. Her innocence mixed with her natural sensuality was about to kill him. If he could just get her to forget about Fenn and show her all the wicked pleasures life could bring, then he’d have her, body and soul.

As he stepped off the porch, dusting his hands over his jeans, he saw Callie leave the ranch house and walk toward the barn. Her steps were firm, her face held high, and she had a look of determination on her features. Whatever heartbreak she was suffering, she’d masked it and taken a firm hold of herself.

That’s my girl. The thought slipped out before he could take it back. She wasn’t his. But she would be. Soon. With a low chuckle, he continued to linger near the cabins and waved to some contractors who had just arrived, but he kept a watchful eye on the barn. They would talk, soon, and he’d set in motion his plans to have her.

*  *  *

Callie couldn’t help but watch Wes as he worked with the contractors. She fed the chickens in the coops, worked with a new foal that had been born a few weeks ago, and checked on the cattle feeding and water troughs over several hours and all of those tasks kept her in plain sight of Wes.

He wasn’t in that suit he usually wore, the one that made him look expensive and mysterious. No, he was in jeans, a t-shirt, and boots and…Her mouth ran dry as she realized that rather than make him look more normal, more approachable, the casual attire gave him a dangerous edge that seemed to say, I’m not afraid of getting down and dirty and taking you with me, sweetheart. The thought made her blush. That was ridiculous. He was just another handsome man in jeans, one she was currently avoiding. That was the whole point of swearing off men, which she definitely had. No sexy, rugged, dangerous men for her. She’d locked her heart in a steel box and sealed it shut forever. There wasn’t going to be any man getting through to it so he could smash it. Not ever again.

Despite her promise though, she couldn’t keep her eyes off Wes. It had to be harmless just to watch him, right? Lust and love were two totally different things after all…Weren’t they?

She watched him crouch by the porch of one of the cabins, a pair of contractors with him, gesturing at something. Even from where she stood, she could see the flex of the muscles on his forearm and the glint of his expensive watch on his wrist. She licked her dry lips and glanced away, only to find herself turning back his way. The light breeze carried just enough of their conversation that she realized they were discussing the wood trimming against the stone base of the cabins. Of course, Wes seemed to know all about the subject. Was there a subject Wes Thorne wasn’t an expert on? His seemingly limitless knowledge was wildly intimidating under the best circumstances, but after he’d seen her meltdown yesterday, well, Callie wasn’t challenging him to Trivial Pursuit anytime soon.

Callie hadn’t been able to afford college. And if she could have, there was no way she would have been able to leave her father, not when he was shorthanded and the ranch was in jeopardy. Now here she was at age twenty, stuck in the same town she’d lived her whole life.

Half of her loved ranch life, but the other half of her wanted to get out into the world, test her limits, and live her life.

Wes suddenly stood and shook hands with the two men he’d been speaking with and then walked away, out of her sight. It was just as well. She really needed to get back to work. With a little sigh, she turned around to go back into the barn and smacked right into a solid, warm male chest.

“Oomph!” She made an unlady-like sound as their bodies collided and she stumbled back.

Firm hands gripped her waist. “What were you doing? Hiding behind this truck?” His tone was full of dark amusement, as though he was fully aware she’d been spying on him.

She sniffed, raised her chin, and tried to dislodge his hands from her waist. He allowed it, and she was fully aware of that fact more than anything else.

“I was checking on the hay.” I was not watching you in those snug jeans.

“Mmm.” He made a little throaty noise as though he were agreeing with her, but she heard the disbelief in the sound.

“If you’ll excuse me, I still have chores to take care of in the barn.” She stalked around him and headed straight for the open doors of her sanctuary. He wouldn’t come after her. He had things to take care of, too. This would be over soon. She’d go back to being alone, left in peace and free of strangely intense men. Thank heavens for that, she thought.

Heading straight for Volt’s stall she decided to give him a quick brushing; that would make her look and feel busy. She slid the stall door open on its sliding rails and grabbed her brush bucket. Then she settled in for a good combing. Volt didn’t pay much attention to her as he buried his nose in his oat bucket, munching loudly.

The sound of footsteps behind her had her spinning. Wes stood in the open stall doorway, watching her.

“Are you all right?”

She barely contained a bitter laugh. “All right? Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

From the corner of her eye, she saw him drift a step closer, and she heard the soft shuffle of his boots on the hay-strewn floor. Wes was too intense for the quiet life on a ranch.

“Here, let me.” Suddenly he was right behind her, the heat of his body searing her skin through the thin layer of her jeans and shirt. His right hand settled over hers gently, grasping the brush and sliding it off her palm. Her hands settled on Volt’s coat as Wes kept her caged while he continued to brush the horse. She watched the way his hand moved the brush swiftly over the horse’s flanks. Did he know much about horses?

Funny, she hadn’t thought to ask. When she’d last been around him, he’d seemed more a dark shadow, a presence just out of sight while she’d been focused on Fenn and the threat on his life. Now, though, she had to admit she was curious, even if he scared her a little. He patted the horse’s back and then turned to her, handing her the brush.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” she finally said, peering over her shoulder at his face.

Observing his profile, she noticed the twist of his sensual lips in a bare hint of a smile.

“I own six of them. I should hope I know what I’m doing.” His words lit a strange fire deep within her belly, and she knew she’d bump into him if she leaned back even an inch.

Callie took the brush from him and set it in the grooming kit outside Volt’s stall. She dusted her hands off on her jeans as she waited for Wes to leave the stall.

“You really have horses? Why didn’t you say anything before?” She could have made him muck out the stalls…the image of him, hay fork in his hands, shoveling manure made her bite back a little smile.

He actually laughed. The rich sound of it did funny things to her stomach. It quivered and a slow wave of heat moved across her face.

“You seem surprised,” he noted as he closed the stall door and then latched it.

Callie retreated a few steps, the barn suddenly feeling much warmer than it had a minute ago.

“Well, you never said anything before about horses. And you don’t look like you do a lot of riding.” She swept her gaze down his black t-shirt, which did nothing to disguise the lean cut muscles of the abs beneath it. You’re not checking him out, Callie. Stop it, she warned herself. She dragged her eyes upward and noticed his powerful forearms and she couldn’t forget that the feel of his hands on her skin always seemed to burn her in those brief times he’d touched her. Oh yes, Wes Thorne unsettled her, and she didn’t like it. If she kept getting swept away by how attractive his abs and arms were there was no way she was going to be able to keep her vow. She had to get out of there and fast. She grabbed the saddle and headed for the tack room, hoping he would take the hint and not follow her.

That silent prayer went unheard because he filled the space of the tack room doorway, as though to stop her from escaping him again. She focused on putting her saddle away.

“You and I haven’t talked much, and certainly not about horses. I’d be happy to talk now…about horses. I play polo. A man has to be very good on a horse.” He paused and that caught her attention. When her eyes met his, he continued. “I enjoy riding, and not just the horses.”

For a second, she had no clue what he meant. Riding…Then it hit her and she flushed with mortification. He was implying that—oh!

“Well, sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Thorne, but I’m not up to being ridden today, or ever. I’m not interested, period.”

Rather than anger him . . .