I blink a couple of times, surprised the unique contacts are as comfortable as they are.
“Let’s take a look outside.” The sun dips toward the horizon, making the oppressiveness of outside bearable.
We wander into one of the many courtyards and glance up at the open sky. The contacts transmit to our watches. Those link up with Forest’s impressive satellite network. We have ten minutes to kill while all of that happens.
Once outside, I wander around the fountains and gardens, pretending I’m admiring the intricate designs while Knox uses his watch to communicate with our team. Cellphones and laptops are not the only things that can record and communicate with the outside world.
Benefield’s guards left our watches alone. Mine is a Rolex, flashy and expected, while Knox’s is military grade. It’s bulky, ugly, and fitted with the best spyware on the planet.
I move past the center of the courtyard to a row of cages holding colorful birds. The parrots and macaws give me the eye, ruffle their feathers, and squawk with excitement.
But I have nothing to offer them.
The click of approaching heels stiffens my spine and draws my gaze over my left shoulder.
Eve approaches, wearing a scarlet dress which molds to all her feminine curves. It’s both modest and completely indecent at the same time.
Each time she steps with her left foot, the nearly thigh-high slit of the dress parts to reveal creamy skin and well-toned legs. It also draws my eye, hopeful for a glimpse of what she may, or may not be, wearing under that dress.
“Mr. S.” She inclines her head in greeting. “Why are you not in the Oasis relaxing with the others?”
“It’s nice to see you, Miss Deverough.” I let her name spill off my lips, thick with lust and desire.
Until we’re Mission Go, she can’t know who we really are. It would jeopardize our cover. And I hate that. I hate that her first impression of me will be as a slave buyer.
I hold her gaze and lean close. “Please, call me Max.”
Her eyebrow arches. “Tomas prefers I address our guests by last name.”
“Mr. S is not my last name.”
Eve clears her throat. “We don’t use first names here.”
I accomplish exactly what I set out to do, which is to make her uncomfortable around me. But there’s something else there as well, deeply buried, it wakes and takes notice.
An electric charge fills the air, sizzling and crackling between us. It’s nothing I’ve ever felt before. It’s powerful, undeniable, and growing stronger with each breath we take. The urge to reach out and touch her overpowers me.
“Yet you use his, and he uses yours.” I brush the back of my knuckles against the underside of her chin. “I want you to use mine.”
I want a lot more than that. The moment I touch her, it’s like getting hit by lightning. I feel her everywhere and my body responds.
“I can’t.”
“But I insist.”
“Tomas won’t allow it.”
“Do you always do what Tomas says?”
“Yes.” The shakiness in her breath is something I feel as well. A shifting beneath my feet. A pull on my heart. A desire stirring deep within me and heating my blood.
“Then we must keep it a secret between the two of us.”
Something shifts inside me. The desire to shoulder her burdens, if only to take away her pain, consumes me. And I can feel her agony. It bleeds into the space between us.
“That won’t be possible.” She takes her time answering, carefully choosing her words and enunciating them clearly. Eve clears her throat. “Dinner will be served soon. We should make our way to the dining room.” She glances at the birds in the cage. “You don’t want to miss dinner. It’s one of the highlights of your first day with us at The Retreat.”
“And why would that be?”
“Because you’ll meet those upon whom you will bid.”
“And what if I have no interest in what I see?”
“Tomas will find you a suitable slave.”
“Perhaps, although as far as tonight goes…” I make a show of checking her out like the lecherous man I’m supposed to be. “I’m quite delighted right now.”
I again make a sweep of her body, but this time I stop at her tits, making it clear the value I place upon her is in her unique assets. To my surprise, Eve holds still beneath my stare.
She waits patiently, allowing the moment to stretch, and letting me know she tolerates such looks all the time.
I suddenly pull back, reminding myself that everything I do is being recorded and transmitted later to the team. I may need to rethink these contact lenses.
“If you will follow me, please.” A hint of unease clutters her delicate voice—urgency laced with fear.
What happens if she fails to deliver me as ordered? I’m curious, but not enough to jeopardize her safety. Although, this damn role dictates my actions and the responses I give.
“I’m not here to socialize with the other guests. I prefer to stretch my legs and acquaint myself with my surroundings, unless that’s not allowed? This is an impressive place, a true retreat from the outside world, but if your boss doesn’t allow his guests to roam freely, that should’ve been explained. I didn’t realize we were prisoners…”
“You’re not prisoners. I was sent only to make sure you were aware dinner would be served soon.”
I glance over at Knox. “Do you have my schedule?”
“Yes, sir.”
“See, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” I flash her a magnanimous smile.
“I didn’t mean to imply…”
“You’re merely doing as your boss desires, checking up on his guests.”
“He’s not my boss.” Her expression darkens and she shifts a step away.
Something flashes in her eyes. It’s there and gone before I can catch it, except I sense deep pain, longing, and despair.
“I’m surprised he lets his slave wander around unsupervised.”
Her status in this place is of the utmost importance. We came here to rescue a kidnap victim, but if Eve intends to remain of her own free will, that makes things very complicated.
“I’m not his slave.” Her emotions get the better of her as she snaps at me. That gives me pause, but I don’t dig deeper. Not a slave then. Good to know.
What are you doing standing by his side, my dear Eve? What the hell is going on?
She turns toward the cage with the parrots. “Do you like the birds?”
“I do.” They continue to squawk and beat their wings, rattling the cage. “They’re beautiful. It’s a shame to keep them in cages.”
My comment gives her pause. “And yet isn’t that what men do?”
“What’s that?”
“Put beautiful things in cages?” She grabs one of the metal bars and turns to face the cage.
“Beautiful things are meant to be treasured, protected, cared for, and admired.”
“I don’t think the birds agree. They’re trapped, unable to spread their wings. Caging them destroys their spirit.”
“That’s the price they pay.”
“For what?”
“For being desirable.”