In a Gilded Cage
Publication date: October 21st 2016
Genres: LGBTQ+, New Adult, Romance
Lucci Grimley is indeed alluring—crowned with a mane of long blond hair, and blessed with an enchanting musical talent that draws a brave rescuer to a high tower hidden in the forest.
However, this modern-day Rapunzel is a young man, sold as a child to the wealthy and childless Damien Gotham for the price of a fast car and a pile of cash. And Lucci’s heroic prince is William “Prin” Prinzing, a handsome college student and star soccer player, hired to care for the grounds of the lavish Tower Estate. Prin climbs an extension ladder rather than a long golden braid to gain access to Lucci’s second floor bedroom window, ultimately penetrating the secrecy surrounding the cloistered young man.
Friendship, and soon romance, blooms. The tower captive eagerly gives his loving innocence to his brave rescuer, which sends the strict and reclusive Gotham into a frenzy of jealous rage. With Prin, Lucci gets a taste of real life, and he wants more. Together, the young men must face Gotham’s ruthlessness and pay the price of liberating Lucci.
LucciHe is awaiting me in the entryway, somehow appearing to be comfortable in the antique ladder-back chair. This is indeed a horrid surprise.
“You were outside, Lucas.” Father must certainly have spies hidden throughout the property, watching me constantly and revealing my every movement. “You left the house without my permission.”
“You were asleep, Father. I did not wish to disturb you to ask for permission to explore the maze.” I push all of my breath into my voice in an effort to sound like my heart is light and free of guilt. From the way he scowls, I believe my effort has failed.
“There is no room for excuses, son. You broke a rule by leaving the building without my consent. There will be a consequence.” He smiles as if in an attempt to comfort me, and I can see long straight teeth hidden in his bushy beard. “We will take care of your punishment tonight. After we dine.”
I don’t try to fight the shiver of dread. I allow it to swallow my body and raise tiny bumps on my skin. “Of course, Father.”
The man stands. Every time he rises to his full height I am newly impressed by how large he is. And how small I feel. But I do not meet his eyes, as I do not want to break another rule. “Very well, Lucas. I must attend to some imperative business in the conference room. I suggest you proceed to your suite and busy yourself with music. It is far more constructive than playing like a child in the outdoors.”
“Shall I practice my flute, sir?”
“No. I would prefer that you spend the afternoon vocalizing. I will come upstairs to listen to your progress on ‘February Song’ in due time.” He clears his throat in a manner I find repulsive, but I do not flinch as I once did. “I will not knock before entering.”
I know precisely what his words suggest: when Father bursts into my room, it will be in my best interest if I am singing. Not daydreaming. Or doodling. Or longing for days gone by. I must be actively singing. “Yes, sir. May I be excused?”
“There is one more small issue, Lucas. I do not care to see your feet bare, especially not soiled like a child stricken with rural poverty, until I remove your shoes myself as I prepare you for bed.”
He then nods and gestures with his hand—I have been dismissed.
Mia focuses her stories on the emotional growth of troubled young men and their relationships, and she believes that sex has a place in a love story, but not until it is firmly established as a love story. As a teen, Mia filled spiral-bound notebooks with romantic tales of tortured heroes (most of whom happened to strongly resemble lead vocalists of 1980s big-hair bands) and stuffed them under her mattress for safekeeping. She is thankful to Dreamspinner Press for providing her with an alternate place to stash her stories.
Mia is proud of her involvement with the Human Rights Campaign and cheers for each and every victory made in the name of marital equality. Her only major regret: never having taken typing or computer class in school, destining her to a life consumed with two-fingered pecking and constant prayer to the Gods of Technology.
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