Excerpt Stone

Castle Sin Series, Book 1

CHAPTER ONE

"Ugh! I hate all this water."

Peyton Jackson couldn't suppress a shudder of disgust as she stared over the wide expanse of the ocean surrounding her. For once it was all it was, there wasn"t the usual terror associated with being on the water. The streaks of the sun danced over her face, turning the amethyst color of her eyes to a deep violet. Her only salvation was the sight of the green patch in the distance growing bigger as the speedboat carried them rapidly closer to their destination.

She hated everything associated with island life. To her, idyllic wasn't the description she'd use, rather hot, sticky, and uncomfortable with sand … lots and lots of sand surrounded by water. Too many dangerous gallons to mention.

"Five minutes, ladies."

Peyton glanced at the tall, muscled man at the helm of the boat. The way he handled her was poetry in motion, effortless, and skillful. Danton Hill was apparently the acclaimed Rothman cousins' Security Director.

Gmphf, imagine that, a Security Director! I suppose being celebrities they do need 24/7 protection. I wonder if he swaps their diapers for them too.

The strangled laugh that escaped her lips drew the big man's eyes her way. She quickly swallowed her mirth at the childish notion her wayward thoughts brought to mind, but a broad smile remained on her lips.

She looked at the other six passengers. All of them women, who stared with anticipation and excitement at the lush island that loomed ahead. Peyton had been surprised when she got on the boat to find them already waiting. Not because they were there but because they didn't fit the stereotypical woman she imagined would willingly submit to a life of servitude on a remote island ruled by seven men.

Masters, actually, she corrected herself. Powerful Dominants who knew how to make even the strongest woman bow to their command in willing submission.

Or so she'd heard.

Castle Sin, on the privately owned, The Sevens Keys Island, in Key West was a hush-hush establishment. Only approved celebrities, politicians, and executive businessmen were members of the exclusive BDSM club.

Four of the six women were older, at a guess in their early forties, and the other two, she surmised to be her age, mid-thirty, which left Peyton dumbfounded. It shot all the information she'd gathered over the years about the seven Rothman cousins to smithereens. She had expected to find a myriad of young females under the age of thirty on the island. A place that was inaccessible to the public, only paid members—which consisted of male Dominants—or as a submissive or slave employed by the reclusive owners.

Reclusive my ass!

The Rothman clan had risen to stardom fifteen years ago when all seven of them had been cast in a Marvel action movie that became a blockbuster on release day. Everyone thereafter had followed the same track. That first motion picture had set them up for life. The producers were clever enough to ride on the wave of success. They'd turned it into a series that released a new feature film every eighteen months. Of course, all seven men thrived on being in the spotlight. The regular articles in the tabloids about their sexual exploits and the strings of women that always hung on to them like leeches were proof of that.

The cousins hadn't stopped their lives the moment they made it big in film. Apparently, they all had various degrees but kept that part of their lives well hidden from the public eye. Apparently, being the key phrase. Peyton had been unable to find any concrete evidence of exactly what they did off the movie set.

No one knew where they disappeared to in between filming; Peyton had a theory that it was nothing but a smokescreen for the dubious shenanigans on the island.

"You haven't joined in the excited blabber since you got on board."

The deep voice of Danton yanked her from her musings. She did her best to glance at him in a subservient manner, an insecure flicker of eyelids as she peeked at him through her lashes.

"So, tell me, Peyton Jackson, why are you here?"

She was hard-pressed not to snort at his haughty demeanor as he looked at her from his towering height at the steering wheel.

Of course! He's probably also a Dom.

Like that mattered any to Peyton. She was beyond irritated. If not for her aunt begging her to talk sense into her impulsive cousin, Savannah, who had already been on The Sevens Keys for close to three months, she'd be happily chasing worthwhile and newsworthy stories—well as soon as she was back at work from the forced vacation she was on. As an investigative journalist for CNN and who made the front pages of all the major newspapers and magazines across the U.S., Peyton could afford to choose which stories she chased. Celebrities and movie stars didn't interest her unless they committed a noteworthy crime.

"I asked you a question, Miss Jackson."

The sharp intonation of her name seared through her. She cursed herself for not having the foresight to use an assumed name. If the Castle Sin Masters did a background check on her, it would put them on guard. It was the one thing she didn't want.

"I don't believe I need to tell you. There's only one reason all of us are here, isn't that right?" she hedged with a tight smile. She fluttered her eyes and looked down as Danton's gaze sharpened on her. It wouldn't do to harvest suspicion about her. She had to blend in and get her cousin off the island.

"Lies aren't tolerated at Castle Sin," he rasped, and a deep slash drew his eyebrows together as he studied her intently. Peyton did her best not to squirm under his piercing stare but failed when an evil smile twitched his lips. "Especially from you. I have a feeling you're going to catch the Beast's eye."

"Th-the Beast?" Peyton cursed at how small her voice sounded. She couldn't help the rapid beating of her heart as he chuckled darkly.

"Yeah, the overseeing Master Dom." His eyes did another slow foray over her dark red hair blowing behind her in the wind. "I think this time, he's going to break his own rule."

"Ehm … what rule?" she asked, unable to listen to her brain that kept telling her to shut the hell up.

You sound like a scared little girl, for god's sake!

Oh, shut up!

"Not to take a sub for himself." He nodded as his eyes roamed over her curvy body. "Yeah … I think our Master is gonna take time to have a little fun for himself."

Peyton pressed her lips together, lest she say something that would give her away. She couldn't afford to be kicked off the island before she even made it through the castle doors.

She had avoided digging deeper into the lives of the seven Rothman cousins for six years, ever since rumors about their dubious sexual proclivities had been doused as the actions of a woman scorned. At first, she'd started investigating the claim by the woman, Leigh Simms, that she'd been held prisoner by the cousins—treated and abused like a slave. She'd publicly retracted her claim within days, and Peyton had lost interest, especially as there was nothing at the time, linking them to The Seven Keys Island. Still, her curiosity had been pricked and she'd done some research on and off when time permitted. She'd found nothing outside of what the public already knew about them, which didn't interest her as a reporter chasing dangerous criminals, syndicates, and corrupt politicians. Seven drop-dead gorgeous, self-made billionaire movie stars was nothing but sensationalism.

Until her aunt had shown her the secret file with information about Castle Sin on The Sevens Keys Island she'd found hidden in the room Savannah used when she stayed over during visits. Leigh Simms had also mentioned an island in her claim six years ago, but she hadn't given the name or the coordinates of where it was, except somewhere in Key West. It was the first time she'd come across information about the privately-owned club, Castle Sin. Peyton didn't live under a rock and knew exactly what happened at an exclusive BDSM club. She'd even joined as a member at such clubs since—purely for investigative purposes, of course, or so she tried to make herself believe. She grimaced at the memory of her first visit. She'd been daring that time and ended up with a crisscross butt that had her standing for a week before she could sit down again. To this day, she still didn't understand why she'd gone back a second, third—hell—a lot more times since.

Finding out that her younger cousin had signed an employment contract that included a tight non-disclosure agreement, to live on the island for a minimum period of one year after being trained as a submissive slave, had stumped her. It made her wonder if her attitude toward Savannah over the past five odd years had perhaps driven her to it. She'd shrugged it off. It was too farfetched. But the woman's claim from six years prior had come back to haunt her. She began digging deeper and elicited the help of her bestie and next-door neighbor, Taylor Banks. Taylor was a real estate attorney. She'd pulled a few strings to uncover the locked information of the corporation The Sevens Keys Island was registered to.

It listed seven names. The surname wasn't familiar but the names sure as hell were. They might be known to the world as the Rothman cousins but in real life, she now knew they were from oldest to youngest, none other than Shane, Kane, Stone, Hawk, Ace, Zeke, and Parker Sinclair. Suddenly, she had an angle that sparked the interest of the bloodhound inside her for a story. One she had every intention of writing. Finding her cousin became secondary.

No matter that she was about to come face to face with the ‘Beast' who would apparently claim her for himself or that he could be there … the one Rothman or rather, Sinclair cousin, who caused her ovaries to break out in a slow foxtrot until her loins throbbed with lust every time his face appeared on the big screen or television.

Cousin number three.

Stone Sinclair.