I admire the thought behind the checks and balances. In exchange for surrendering my funds, my host has done the same. Sitting in escrow is the tidy sum of five million dollars. If either of us double-crosses the other, those funds sit there forever. It’s a lot to gamble, but Forest doesn’t care about the money. Unfortunately, from the look of this place, my host probably doesn’t either.
It’s not ironclad, but it provides some protection for both parties.
At the end of the week, when I make my purchase, funds will shift. Until then, Knox and I are trapped within these walls.
No coming or going.
No cellphones.
No communication with the outside world.
We are ensconced in a paradise designed to cater to the depravity of men. For the next week, I will act the part of a monster.
It goes against my nature, but if I’m successful, we can bring down this operation and free countless women from a fate far worse than death.
The click of high heels turns my head. Long, shapely legs draw my gaze. Sun-kissed skin and legs that go on forever steal my breath.
My insides heat as I take in the sinuous curves of shapely hips, a narrow waist, and perfectly proportioned tits all draped in crimson silk. Brunette curls spill over the woman’s shoulders and cascade all the way down to her tiny waist, and those sea-green eyes take one look at me before moving on to our guide.
“Miss Deverough,” James says, “a pleasure, although I’m surprised you’re out and about.”
Her ruby red lips curve into a gracious smile. “Tomas said our guests would be arriving today.” She closes the distance between us.
My lips press hard together as my brain attempts to process whatever the fuck this is.
“Mr. S has just arrived. You may remember Mr. H and Mr. J? They are relaxing in the Oasis.”
The smile on her face slips, but only for a moment. Eve lifts her delicate hand and drags crimson-coated fingernails along my jawline. An intimate, and forward gesture, it’s all I can do to hold my breath.
Her attention shifts to Knox, but swings back to me when she identifies him as my personal protection detail.
“You’re younger than our usual clientele. Definitely more handsome.” Her sultry voice drips seduction.
I find difficulty focusing amidst her intoxicating perfume and the heady fog of arousal clogging my mind. More stunning in person, an ethereal glow lights her skin and her mesmerizing eyes, the most unusual shade of green, make me want to lose myself in their depths.
Our?
My mind pings on that word. What the fuck does she mean by Our?
“Welcome to The Retreat, Mr. S.” Her fingertips lift off my jaw and fall to my chest. Delicately, she walks them down my chest. She drifts back a step, but not before I practically lose myself to the potent swirl of her perfume. “I am at your disposal.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine. I assure you, Mr. S.”
“Please call me Max.” I grasp her wrist.
She instinctually pulls away, but then the resistance in her arm disappears. It’s there and gone in a flash, making me think I imagined it.
Her smile broadens. “If you will excuse me, I must greet our other guests.” She waits for me to release her, then departs with a smile. Confusion swirls in the depths of her eyes as she leaves us.
Eve isn’t chained in a cage. She bears no marks of having been beaten into submission. Her confident steps take her toward the Oasis, and I can’t erase the way her painted lips curved into a smile, but never made it to her eyes.
What the fuck just happened?
Why is Eve wandering around dressed to the nines? She’s the only female fully clothed, and as far as I can tell, there’s no guard following her around.
It’s going to be a very long week, and my first task is going to be figuring out what the hell is going on.
Fourteen
Eve
Hell week.
That’s what I call the last week of every month. It’s when the monsters descend.
Just met one of them outside the Oasis. Tall, dark, handsome, one look and he stole my breath. When I touched him, a surge of electricity shot through me, lifting the fine hairs of my arm, and jumpstarting my heart.
I’ve never reacted to a man like that. For a split second, an overwhelming sense of calm washed through me, as if he could save me from this living hell.
That only goes to show how much I struggle. Seeing a savior when Mr. S is really a devil on the inside. My mind is playing tricks on me.
They’re all devils, which doesn’t explain my reaction.
It’s official.
I’m crazy.
As I make my way to greet our new guests, my attention wanders to the cameras embedded in the ceilings, the walls, at every crossing hall and down each long corridor.
How did I ever think I’d escape this place? Because I’m crazy, that’s why.
Max? Why did he have to tell me his name? I met his gaze with a smile fixed to my face, wholly unprepared for the warmth in his eyes and the gentleness of his smile.
But when I looked deeper, losing myself to the crazy fantasy he might save me, danger swirled in his eyes; a lethality which took my breath and made my belly flutter. I barely escaped before a flush rose on my neck.
A flush?
An entirely odd reaction for an entirely unexpected man. He held my gaze for a beat too long, almost as if he recognized me and hated what he saw. Or maybe that was confusion scrawled across his face?
Either way, it doesn’t matter. I know his type all too well. He’s the kind of man infused with insidious dominance. On the surface are smiles, go a layer deeper to uncover the lies. Bored, with far too much money, he’s the kind of man who can have whatever he wants and still isn’t satisfied.
He’s here for the thrill. His desire to obtain the unobtainable drives men like him to this god-forsaken place.
Needles stab at the back of my eyes as I prepare to enter a den of sin. In the Oasis, girls in training, not the ones to be sold, practice their newfound skills. My chest squeezes for them, for the pain they endure, and hot fire sears my throat because I’m not one of them.
This feeling isn’t new. It’s my constant companion. Revulsion mixed with relief. Revulsion that I saved myself from that fate, and relief not to share it with these girls. I mourn those girls. I grieve the lives stolen from them. I weep for the pain they endure. But I don’t let my crippling sorrow break my spirit. That kind of lapse isn’t one I’ll come back from.
With a deep, shaky breath, I twist around, looking back the way I came.
Why?
Because I can’t get Max out of my head.
Benefield doesn’t share the particulars with me concerning his guests. They come from all over the world, eager to take and claim. Max is an American. We don’t get many of those. His accent, friendly and sounding of home, penetrated my senses and awakened a searing ache.
I wish for nothing more than to go home.
A big man, he took up not only the space his body occupied but a good portion of the air around him with a menacing threat he could do serious bodily harm if he so chose. But my first sense of him is that he’s not here to harm. A gentleness resides within him.
Goodness.
But that can’t be. Not if he’s here. Not if he’s one of the guests that make my stomach turn.