Bound To The Ruthless Billionaire Captor

Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, warming Jocelyn's face.

She opened her eyes and stretched. It was the third day since Elam had left for London. It was also her nineteenth birthday.

The mansion was quiet. The suffocating pressure that usually crushed her chest was gone. She could breathe.

She got out of bed and put on a simple, white cotton dress. She tied her hair into a high ponytail. She looked in the mirror and saw a rare, genuine smile on her own face.

She walked downstairs to the dining room.

Earlean Medina walked out of the kitchen carrying a bowl of long-life noodles and a small, vanilla cupcake with a single lit candle.

"Happy birthday, Miss Jocelyn," Earlean smiled warmly.

"Thank you, Earlean," Jocelyn said. Her eyes pricked with happy tears. She closed her eyes, clasped her hands, and blew out the candle, wishing for independence.

The moment the flame died, her phone buzzed on the mahogany table.

It was an international number.

Jocelyn answered it. "Hello?"

"Happy birthday, Jocelyn," Karson's voice came through the speaker, slightly distorted by static but incredibly gentle.

Jocelyn smiled. "Thank you, Karson. How is Europe?"

They chatted for a few minutes about school and his sudden trip. The atmosphere was light and easy.

Karson took a deep breath. "Jocelyn, I really miss you. I wish I was there today."

Jocelyn's heart skipped a beat. Her fingers tightened around the phone. She didn't know what to say, but a warm blush spread across her cheeks.

"I sent you a gift," Karson continued quickly. "I tracked the international courier. It should be arriving at the mansion any minute now."

Jocelyn panicked. "Karson, you shouldn't have. If the butler sees it..."

"Don't worry, I paid for confidential delivery. Just grab it yourself," Karson reassured her.

They hung up. A minute later, the visual doorbell chimed in the hallway.

Sterling walked toward the front door.

Jocelyn jumped out of her chair. "I'll get it, Sterling! It's just some study materials I ordered."

Sterling paused and stepped back with a polite nod.

Jocelyn pulled the heavy door open. A courier in a crisp uniform handed her a sleek, square box. She signed the datapad and took the package.

Her heart hammered against her ribs. She hugged the box to her chest, desperate to run upstairs and open it.

She turned around and placed her foot on the first step of the grand staircase.

A violent, ear-piercing screech of tires tore through the driveway.

Jocelyn froze.

The black Rolls-Royce Phantom slammed to a halt at the bottom of the steps. The rear door was shoved open with brutal force.

Elam Turner stepped out.

He brought the freezing London winter in with him. His face was a mask of thunderous, terrifying rage. He had worked three days straight, sleeping zero hours, and canceled a multi-million dollar gala just to be here for her birthday.

And he walked in to see this.

Jocelyn stood paralyzed on the first step. She clutched the box to her chest. The blood drained from her face, leaving her looking like a ghost.

Elam's eyes slashed across her face, then dropped to the box in her arms. The logo of a high-end European jewelry brand was stamped in gold foil on the lid.

The temperature in the grand hall plummeted below zero. Sterling and the maids instantly bowed their heads, wishing they could disappear into the walls.

Elam took a step forward. His leather shoes cracked against the marble.

Jocelyn's survival instinct kicked in. She subconsciously hid the box behind her back.

That single, protective gesture poured gasoline on the inferno inside Elam's chest.

He walked to the base of the stairs. He looked up at her. A smile that didn't reach his eyes twisted his mouth.

He held out his large hand, palm up.

"Give it to me," Elam commanded. His voice was dead calm. It was the calm before a catastrophic hurricane.

Jocelyn shook her head. Her whole body trembled. Tears welled in her eyes. If she gave it to him, he would destroy Karson's kindness.

Elam's patience snapped.

He lunged up the step. His hand shot out and clamped around her wrist like a vice. He violently yanked her arm forward, ripping the box from her grasp.

The box slipped from his fingers in the struggle. It hit the marble floor.

The lid popped off.

A delicate, diamond-encrusted necklace spilled out, glittering blindingly under the crystal chandelier.