THERE IS THIS type of pain in my stomach I’ve never experienced before. I manage to get the piece of paper out of my jeans pocket. It’s soaked, and I unfold it carefully. I’m searching for a radiator to place it on.
My mind is foggy from Lucca’s touch, from Lucca’s harsh words, from my own outbursts. My gaze blurs, and the room tilts. I have to pause and close my eyes and try to find my center again. When I open my eyes, I feel more like myself.
I find a hairdryer tucked away in one of the drawers and use it to dry the page.
In my eagerness to ring home, I forgot to add the prefix that allows me to ring another country. It hit me last night that If I found a phone book, I could ring home and maybe someone would answer.
I’m staring at the page as I continue to dry it. I don’t need it anymore, I realize. That number will be forever branded into my memory. I turn off the hairdryer and take the piece of paper into the bathroom. I’m surprised he let me keep it. I’m surprised he let me leave that room.
His threat of having me elated me and caused a ripple of fear throughout my system. I’m trying not to think about his hands on me as I crumple up the page and drop it into the toilet. I flush and watch it disappear.
He touched me, and I didn’t want him to stop. There were moments where my brain kicked in, and I half tried to leave, but his touch gave me release from the situation. His silver eyes spoke of arousal, and his own pressed so heavily against me.
Even when he was threatening to take me fully, with his groin pressed against me, fear should have been all I felt, but I couldn’t deny the attraction I felt toward Lucca.
His body was defined perfectly—the outline of his muscles like gorges in the landscape.
I flush the toilet one more final time before leaving the bathroom and making my way into the bedroom, where I put on dry clothes. I find the darkest ones, which are gray. The skirt is very dark, but it touches the floor, and the top has a small red-and-yellow beaded design along the arms.
It’s pretty, but not as pretty as what I have grown up accustomed to.
I hate the thought that settles in my mind. I might have gotten the full number for my parents’ home, but I could never risk ringing them now. I could never risk Lucca tracing their number. He still might. My only hope is that he forgets about it.
I fall asleep on top of the covers after a few hours of twisting and turning. When I wake, it’s odd not to hear the girls’ chatter or feel the heat from the sun that always shone directly on my lower calves. I sit up and take in my surroundings. I’m in The Handler’s home. Something tells me he doesn’t live here full-time, because there’s nothing personal in the penthouse, and it just has the feel of a hotel.
I get off the bed and go to the bathroom. Each time I think of last night, my buttocks clench at the memory of each slap. The pain had frozen me for a moment. But it was the heat of his hand, the feel of skin on mine, that made a completely different reaction in my body. Embarrassment had torn through me by the thought of being spanked turning me on. My mind wanders a little further to how he touched me, how I wanted him to touch me.
I wash my face and pause. There’s something different. When I look up and meet Lucca’s gaze in the mirror, my heart stalls, and a half scream lodges itself in my throat. My heart picks up a new beat that’s wild and unwilling to slow.
“Breakfast is ready.”
The silver shirt that covers his wide shoulders is nearly the same color as his unusual eyes.
I hold my head high, hoping he can’t see how flustered I am. “Thank you.”
He doesn’t leave, and my stomach hollows out the longer he’s looking at me. I can’t hold his gaze, so I look away and place the towel back on the rack. When I look around, I’m alone again.
Breakfast is fresh fruit and cereal. He’s set the breakfast up at the breakfast bar. Straight away, all I can think about is how unladylike it is to climb up on a high stool. I have to lift the gray skirt to get up. Lucca is already seated and doesn’t hide the fact that he’s watching me.
He eats his cereal slowly. Once I’m up, I feel slightly accomplished and pour out some cereal before adding strawberries and honey. Without asking, Lucca pours me orange juice.
“Thank you.” I pick up the glass and take a drink.
He doesn’t speak through breakfast but eats while looking at his phone. For the first time, I wonder about him. How did he end up as The Handler? Does he have a family? Does he ever get sick of it? Does he have a girlfriend? The last thought has my face flaming because I don’t like the idea of him having a girlfriend. If he does, I highly doubt he would spank her as he did to me last night.
Silver eyes cut across to me, and I immediately look away. We finish eating in silence, and once we’re done, Lucca tells me to get some footwear on because we’re going out.
On the way down in the elevator, I attempt to ask him three times where we’re going, but fear clogs my throat. Is he returning me to Igor? What would Igor do to me?
I can’t stay quiet any longer once we’re in the limo.
“Where are we going?”
Lucca once again is on his device. “To the ship.” He doesn’t look up at me as he answers.
A new wave of fear and a longing for what has become of my home has me looking out the window as I try to move all the parts inside me around like I can make them fall into place.
I can’t.
Home. Home was a boat, home was a large house, home was a cell in the lower deck of a ship once. Home was County Clare.
That final thought has me squeezing my eyes from the burn in the back of my throat.
“Did you always want to be The Handler?” I need a distraction from my morbid thoughts. I don’t look at Lucca because I don’t really think he will answer.
“Yes.”
Now he has my attention. He’s staring at me, and my stomach squirms.
Him answering me is a surprise, and now I want to know it all. But I also remember that I need to be very careful with my questions.
“Why?” I wanted to ask what his parents thought of their son being The Handler, but maybe they were high up in the mafia, that this was a role he had always known he would fill, so therefore he always wanted it.
His silver eyes narrow slightly. “I just did, Evie.”
My name on his lips has me wanting to squirm. It’s too personal, and his gaze drags down my front like he can see through the material. Like he can see my nipples hardening in my bra. I fold my arms across my chest, and the grin on his face has me uncrossing them. The limo slows as we approach the ship. I don’t know any of the security here. They’re all new. As we board the ship, I feel the press of the ghosts, and my legs refuse to move any further.
Lucca was walking ahead of me and stops. “Take me to your room.”
His voice snaps me out of my frozen state, and I walk up to him. His cologne is strong as I pass him and lead him to not just my room but all of our room. We always shared a space. The moment I enter it, the smells of warm sun, lotions, and perfume surround me.
I miss them all. The thought that they could be hurt or worse has me walking to my bed. The light streams in, cutting across the silken cream covers of my bed. I touch the stream of light, yet the heat doesn’t penetrate my flesh like it once did. I still feel cold. As I glance around the room, I know each inch of it, but it’s like I’m looking at the life of someone else—of some poor girl who has no idea what really lies ahead. Most days, I tried to pretend this was it. That I lived with a group of women, and that’s how it would always be. It was an easier fate to accept than the knowledge that I was in a holding cell waiting to be sold.
“Is that where you slept?” Lucca drags me away from my thoughts. I almost forgot why I’m here.
“Yes.”
He steps up to my bed and opens a small cupboard beside it. I don’t stop him as he removes files. He dumps the stack on my bed and takes the first one off the pile. His gaze flickers between me and the file of one of the men who might become my husband.
“What is this?”
“It’s a profile on my future husband.”
Lucca’s jaw tightens, and he holds a look of disbelief.
“We have to learn about them in case we are picked.”
He shuffles the pile on the bed. “There must be forty here.”
“Thirty-eight,” I correct.
He closes the file and throws it onto my bed. He’s leaving the room, but I don’t like the mess. I quickly put the files back in my cupboard and follow him from the room.
“Let’s go to the loading dock.”
I knew this would happen, yet it still doesn’t stop my heart from hammering in my chest and the blood from roaring in my ears. I walk, and once I round the corner to the loading dock, I’m expecting to see all the bodies on the floor. All the bodies I had to step across to get out of here.
“I asked about the girl who was sick,” Lucca says.
The blood still taints the floor, and my stomach somersaults.
“There was none, Evie. So you lied to me.”
My gaze jumps to the crates. “I was the one who was sick.” I could never tell him I was trying to escape. Even admitting I was in here wasn’t something I told Igor, but he knew I was lying about everything.
“Why come in here?” He’s closer to me, but I don’t turn to look at him.
I shrug. “I just ended up in here.”
“Close your eyes.” Lucca is right behind me, and my eyelids flutter closed at his command.
“What did you see?”
I open my eyes. I don’t want to go back there. His warm large hand rests on my shoulder. “I’m here with you.”
I close my eyes. I was behind the crates, lying in wait, as I knew we were docking soon. I had overheard the security talking about dropping off the crates, and I knew this was my chance—my only chance at getting out.
I figured getting into a crate would be the best thing to do. Only that day, I couldn’t get it open, so I lay behind them as the room filled up with security.
“The guards all stood in the center of the room,” I say. “I remember them creating a circle, all looking around, bewildered. Then three men appeared, dressed in black; even their faces were covered. They stepped out from the shadows.”
I hadn’t known they were there. I wasn’t sure if they knew I was either. I doubt it, or they would have taken me, too.
Lucca’s hand squeezes my shoulder.
“They had these darts—black darts with red-feathered heads. They shot them at the security. I think they drugged them.” I open my eyes and look down at all the pools of dried blood. “They staggered but kept the circle.” My hands start to tremble, and I need to see it’s Lucca behind me. I turn, and his hand slips from my shoulder. “They had long swords, and it was quick, so quick.”
Lucca nods. “Through all this, they didn’t see you?”
I hold my head high. “No, I was getting sick behind a crate. I waited until they left. Found my way back to my room, and that’s where they found me.”
“What about the girls?”
Leah’s screams pierce me now. “I don’t know. I heard Leah screaming, and when I got back to the room, they were gone. All of them.” And I did nothing but pray I wasn’t caught.
Lucca doesn’t stay any longer but leads me off the ship. He’s mulling over all I’ve told him and is quiet in the limo. For me, I have this growing sensation like something bad is going to happen.
“Your relationship with Igor? What is it?”
“I’ve only met him three times. He’s our keeper.”
Lucca’s watching me intently.
“Each group of girls has a keeper who’s responsible for our safety. I often heard the security talking about keeping us safe, or they would have to answer to Igor.”
“Does Igor know you were on the loading dock?”
The other shoe drops, and I understand the bad sensation that’s been spinning around in my stomach.
I shake my head. “I was in too much shock when he questioned me. I didn’t mean…” I trail off. “I didn’t lie,” I quickly say. “I just…” My lie’s not helping me. Lucca doesn’t react to anything I’m saying, and I have no idea what that means for me.
We arrive back at the penthouse, and I take a look up at the large building and let out a heavy breath. I was tired of men and the power they held over us. The door is opened, and I get out. The moment we step into the penthouse, I stop. Two men are waiting for Lucca. One I’ve never seen before, the other I know. Sacha. He works on the boat. He traps me with a look that Lucca doesn’t seem to notice as he removes his jacket and hands it to Pavel.
“I hope you have some good news for me.” Lucca steps into the living space, and Sacha releases my gaze.
I don’t leave. No one asks me to.
“Autopsy report.” Sacha hands the file to Lucca, but he keeps snatching quick glances my way.
“Interesting. Blood loss.” Lucca snaps the file shut, and even I know there’s something wrong. A shift in his stance. “Their blood was clean.”
“If that’s what the report says.” Sacha hands over more files. “The roster and also the loading dock inventory.”
“Thank you.” Lucca takes them and quickly looks over the files.
Leah’s screams assault me, but the longer Sacha and I look at each other, the clearer that memory is becoming. He was on the ship that day. It was only the back of his head I saw; he was moving through the hallways. He didn’t see me. But I saw him.