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    Surrender
    Surrender
    Surrender
    Ebook126 pages1 hour

    Surrender

    By Celia Crown

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    "Goodnight, princess. Find me in your nightmares."

     

    If anyone asks how Hana met Nea, she'd laugh sheepishly and say, "Over dinner."

     

    It's true, just not the whole truth. She broke a baguette over his head. That was one of the worst first impressions anyone could make, and with a twist of luck, he's the one her family entrusts with her life until the coast is clear.

     

    Nea doesn't know if their meeting is fate or a coincidence, but it's a chance he's not willing to let go.

     

    Maybe at that moment, something in him broke further, and his attention never left her after that.

     

    Hana is all wide-eyed and curious noises; she has never experienced hardships and has been spoon-fed. So, of course, on a Tuesday, the day after another frightening hallucination, she's on a flight to a man who eagerly welcomes her into his open arms.

     

    Living under the same roof, compelled to bask in his devotion as a host, and endure the divide between sugared smiles and derisive aura—she's none the wiser.

    It's a lion's den.

     

    "This is your home until I say otherwise."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCelia Crown
    Release dateApr 16, 2023
    ISBN9798215718575
    Surrender

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      Book preview

      Surrender - Celia Crown

      SURRENDER

      ____________________

      CELIA CROWN

      Copyright © 2021 by Celia Crown.

      All rights reserved.

      This book is a work of fiction.

      The book or any portion of the book may not be reproduced or used under any circumstances, except with the written permission from the author. Public names, movies, televisions, locations, or any references are used for atmospheric purposes. Any similarities and resemblances to alive or dead people, events, brands, and locales are all complete coincidences.

      Contents

      Surrender

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Epilogue

      Afterword

      More Books

      Surrender

      By Celia Crown

      Goodnight, princess. Find me in your nightmares.

      If anyone asks how Hana met Nea, she’d laugh sheepishly and say, Over dinner.

      It’s true, just not the whole truth. She broke a baguette over his head. That was one of the worst first impressions anyone could make, and with a twist of luck, he’s the one her family entrusts with her life until the coast is clear.

      Nea doesn’t know if their meeting is fate or a coincidence, but it’s a chance he’s not willing to let go.

      Maybe at that moment, something in him broke further, and his attention never left her after that.

      Hana is all wide-eyed and curious noises; she has never experienced hardships and has been spoon-fed. So, of course, on a Tuesday, the day after another frightening hallucination, she’s on a flight to a man who eagerly welcomes her into his open arms.

      Living under the same roof, compelled to bask in his devotion as a host, and endure the divide between sugared smiles and derisive aura—she’s none the wiser.

      It’s a lion’s den.

      This is your home until I say otherwise.

      Chapter One

      __________

      Hana

      I feel like an expensive and high-maintenance secret lover with the voice of a thousand cracked mirrors.

      Inside the posh plane, I sit with a straight back and crossed legs. The windows are all closed, but the waves of chills continue to reap what little warmth I have through the large cashmere coat.

      My lips pull into a frown, teeth itching to grind against each other as I pinch my thigh to distract the festering irritation from running too wildly in my numb arms.

      The smell of fresh bread, untouched grape jelly, and a whiff of white truffle turn the air stale and nauseating. My glass of water ripples from the engine’s vibration, pitching tiny droplets before falling again.

      But I’m not a spoiled princess. I don’t need a red carpet to be rolled out, welcomed by bowed heads, nor do I want to be escorted out of the plane with a butler holding my hand.

      I just need a minute to gather my thoughts, if I have any left. I've rarely had a moment to myself in the twenty-four years of being born.

      There is always someone near me, ready at my beck and call with a simple wave of the hand. I can’t sigh without being asked if I need help.

      I can’t blame my parents for being overprotective when they went through so many rounds of IVF. I’m their only child, guarded by trained veterans who have turned my living space into a fortress.

      I wouldn’t call the massive estate home for me. It’s wrong to put the label on it when it feels like a real estate marketing catalog.

      But this is good, I whisper, slapping my hands on my cheeks with a grin. I can do whatever I want!

      A new place, new people, and no more eyes following me everywhere.

      I lick my dried lips, shuddering at the reminder of why I’m not in the middle of a bustling metropolis filled with bright lights and car exhaust. I should be spending Christmas with my parents at the estate, as I do every year, but I'll be spending it alone until the storm settles.

      I, being the cause of the storm, am currently on a mental health break. That’s what my parents told the family attorney. To be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about it. Logically, I must face the consequences of a crime I committed.

      It just goes to show that logic can't stand up to my parents coercing me into agreeing to their proposal. They believe I did nothing wrong and that what happened was self-defense against a dangerous person.

      My lungs expand, holding the gust of oxygen in to bring up the buzzing in my ears. Then I exhale softly as the plane’s engine hushes.

      As I stand, I take the long baguette with me and try to bite into it, stifling the grumble in my stomach. The texture is as hard as a rock. I give up, not because I have faith in my dentist, but because the door is hissing open.

      The pilot opens the cockpit door, and the woman inclines her head courteously as she intones a formal greeting. I give her an uneasy smile, uncertain how I should act.

      Do I give her a tip? Am I supposed to? Tipping customs vary by country, but because I'm in Alaska, it seems appropriate to tip her. She is providing a service by acting as my pilot on a cross-country flight.

      Before she can voice her question, I laugh sheepishly and hurry along the narrow path toward the opened entrance. I grip the handrail, sucking a sharp breath at the iciness, and inch down the metal steps.

      A man in a fluorescent orange jacket stands at the bottom of the stairs. He steps back and offers a smaller smile than the pilot gave me. The man starts by welcoming me to Alaska, and the snow dulls to a light gray compared to the man’s enthusiasm.

      Your chauffeur is waiting nearby, he chirps, hand extending toward the hangar.

      It’s a private airstrip, void of all colorful liveliness, and the emptiness churns my stomach. I’m not used to being surrounded by practically nothing, save for a tree or three pinecones at the corner of my eye.

      He’s— the man begins, then his throat stutters. He was here before….

      I look around, eyeing the hollow space with one sweep. There’s a sleek black car parked by the opposite exit, but the engine seems to be off. The reflecting light from the bright hanger darkens the car's windows, making it impossible to see who is inside.

      The man in his neon uniform offers to look for the driver and scurries off before half of my brain catches what he says.

      Another awkward moment arises. Do I hop into the car? This is private property, meaning no outsider may park here. Unless it's an employee who left the car for a moment to retrieve something from their workstation.

      A hand taps my shoulder. The action is firm, and the fleeting grip of the fingers seems like the person wanted to turn me around before the pressure left.

      With dread lodging in my throat, my body violently thrashes against the cold lethargy. As I swing around, a stinging crack in the nape of my neck clinches, spanning intense heat beneath my ribs.

      It’s a normal reaction to turn around when someone taps on my shoulder.

      However, breaking the forgotten loaf of bread over a devilishly attractive man with amber eyes is not normal.

      I was hesitant to come here in the first place. Being surrounded by unfamiliar people, feeling akin to a hatchling, and dreadfully unprotected—the amount of exposure going through my body is troubling.

      The apprehension comes from inexperience—that much I genuinely can tell. Meeting new people comes with the territory of being the sole child of a household brand in the pharmaceutical industry.

      He surprised me, I reason with myself to calm my raging heart as I stare at his unjustly attractive features. Not because I assaulted him with bread.

      Time stretches out, eternal and plaguing.

      His expression doesn’t change, not a muscle out of place, and his eyes bore into mine with such unnerving attention that my stomach shrivels.

      The beauty of life would not be beautiful if it didn’t die and morph into something new. My life is going to end, whether I’m ready or not. It’s approximately nine in the morning, snow-capped mountains hiding the sun, and in comes the last breath of white clouds gasping from my parted lips.

      I’m Nea.

      Alright, so this is where he introduces himself before erasing my existence with a wipe of his large palm and long fingers. Would I fly into space, or would blending into the fluffy snow suffice?

      Hana, he says, smiling kindly despite the turmoil crackling like lightning in my voice.

      How do you know my name? I harden the glare, scowling suspiciously at him.

      He just smiles. I will not let his charisma swoon and distract me from the pressing issue. So many people call me by my surname that I forgot I have a first name, but that’s beside the point.

      I didn’t tell him my name, and my parents didn't notify anyone

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