Before long, the slaves clear the table.
“Come, let’s retire to the Oasis for drinks, then we’ll play our game.”
The men push back from the table. I wait for Tomas to help me with my chair.
“You look pale, my dearest Evie. Are you well?”
I place my hand on his arm, knowing my every move is tracked by his guests. “A pinch of a headache. I’m sure it will pass.”
“Do you wish to be excused?” His tone sounds sincere, but I know not to trust him.
“It’s a minor inconvenience. I should stay by your side. Especially this first night?”
His cold hand pats mine. “Come, let us retire to the Oasis.”
I hate everything about the Oasis. Built to resemble a Sultan’s harem, its opulence is over the top. Silks drape down from the ceiling and undulate in the light breeze flowing through the room.
It’s fake. Everything in this room is fake. From the breeze to the smiles on the slaves’ faces, it all fake.
And Cruel.
And disgusting.
Mr. H and Mr. B make beelines for seats separated from the rest. Mr. J and Mr. Q, who arrived late, stand looking like they don’t know what to do. It lasts but a moment, before they claim their own spots. They lounge back on the pillows and gesture to the girls.
No touching means they can’t grope the girls, but the girls are encouraged to tease, tempt, and stimulate the men.
I settle in behind the plush couch Tomas chooses as his for the night. He sits in the middle and spreads his legs. With a flick of his finger he calls over the girls. Then he leans back and waits for me to give him a shoulder massage.
A girl comes over, goes to her knees in front of him. She unzips his trousers and proceeds to demonstrate how her oral skills have improved.
I tune it all out. Eventually, Tomas will dismiss me. Until then, I escape inside my head, and block out all the sounds.
As the evening wears on, I lean down to whisper in Tomas’ ear. “Forgive me, but it’s turning to a migraine. Will you be upset with me if I leave?”
“We haven’t started our game for the evening.”
I take in a deep breath and brace myself to endure more, but he surprises me by tapping my hand. A different girl bobs over his lap. Disgusting. However, one thing I’ve learned is sex makes him more agreeable.
“I will stay, if that’s what you want.”
“No, my darling Evie. You may retire for the night. I don’t need you.”
“Thank you.” I lean down and brush my lips against his cheek using as little pressure as possible.
The room is full of hedonistic desire, men getting off on the suffering of others. When I stand, one chair is vacant. There’s no sign of Max and his silent bodyguard.
Where the hell did he go?
Seventeen
Eve
I take my time leaving the Oasis, gliding across the floor as if I have all the time in the world to make my exit. I project grace and elegance, with a serene smile plastered on my face as if the sounds of non-penetrative sex don’t bother me and I’m pleased the men are enjoying themselves.
I detest what they’re doing.
I hate them all.
Inside my head, the scene is much different. I flee toward the exit, racing toward freedom as swiftly as my legs can carry me. My chest constricts. Panic rises. Breathing becomes difficult.
Will Tomas change his mind and call me back to his side before I can make my break for freedom?
That shifting in the air is real. I felt it at dinner and again in the Oasis. I fear what it means.
I manage to make it to the doorway and glide into the hall with that damn smile fixed to my face. Then I navigate through the labyrinth of hallways, unwilling to spend the rest of the night in my room. It’s suffocating in there, with the walls slowly closing in, encasing me within a tomb.
I need fresh air. I need the illusion of freedom. I simply need a break.
My steps take me through The Retreat to one of my favorite courtyards. It’s the largest, which is probably why it’s my favorite. Tall trees block out the oppressiveness of my prison, and I can pretend I’m on a stroll outside as if none of this exists.
In the center of the courtyard, a fountain sprays water into the air. The light sound of it falling back into the rippling pool at its base never fails to soothe me.
I wander the paths between the flower beds, where bushes rise above my head, again giving the illusion I’m not trapped in this feral place.
It’s a warm night, as always, but the overwhelming humidity is gone, swept away by the coming of night. A light breeze flutters leaves all around me, and brings the aromatic fragrance of tropical flowers floating in the air. Torchlight flickers, lighting the paths. It’s dark enough to escape, but light enough not to trip and fall.
I take it in and let the constriction in my chest ease. Three deep breaths push the headache away. I didn’t lie about that. The low sound of male voices carries on the wind, and I come to an abrupt stop.
Suddenly alert, tension builds between my shoulders as I debate my next move. Can I tiptoe back the way I came? In heels? Did the men hear my approach? I wasn’t trying to be quiet.
I listen, but no longer hear them. Adrenaline spikes in my blood as I debate whether to flee or stay put, hoping they move on.
The footsteps head toward me. Whoever it is, they’re coming for me. Max and his bodyguard come into view.
“What an unexpected pleasure.” A genuine smile brightens his face.
“Good evening, Mr. S.”
“Please, call me Max.”
“Good evening, Max.”
“You look lovely.” His gaze sweeps over me. Not predatory. Not revolting. He looks at me with genuine interest.
What is it about this man? When he’s near, I find it impossible to look away, like there’s some otherworldly pull that draws my eye.
Dressed in an immaculate suit, tailored to his massive frame, he moves with lethal grace, but there’s more.
So much more.
Max is acutely aware of his surroundings. I’ve never noticed that in a person before, but he scans and takes note of everything around him.
How does he do that?
My head tips as I try to figure out this mystery, only to realize I’m doing it again.
I’m staring at him.
“Shouldn’t you be in the Oasis?”
“Shouldn’t you?” Immediately, I regret the harshness of my tone.
Dark hair, dark eyes, broad shoulders, thick arms, and muscled thighs, he’s dangerous. It’s riveting and intoxicating. Mesmerizing and terrifying. There’s a solidness to him, a sense he can provide comfort, protection, and shelter to those around him. It grounds him, and unsettles me. If I didn’t know why he was here, he’s a man I could easily fall for.
Hell, I’m already falling for this monstrous man. And why? Because he’s tall, dark, and handsome? Because I like the way his eyes burn when he looks at me? Because the corner of his lips tilts into a smirk?
I know why.
My world officially makes no sense.
He’s a predator. My inner voice tells me to be wary, but I can’t help but gravitate toward him. He feels like a savior, even though I know he’s a devil. I can’t stop my heart from wanting to believe a lie.