Kingsley tugs at the collar of his yellow Polo shirt, his chin high like he’s having trouble breathing. Caramel locks of wavy hair flutter in the wind, and every time he looks over his shoulder, I wonder what he’s looking for. Either the engine of the boat or the ocean, or more likely, nothing. He’s more nervous than I am, and I’d find it cute if it didn’t increase our likelihood of getting caught.
“Relax,” I whisper, scooting closer to him. There’s a couple on the boat with us, a man named Malekai driving and a woman named Millie at his side. Apparently, Kingsley never shows up at Chaffer’s stag, so we’re under the ruse of tagging along with these two.
He glances at me, a vein popping from his forehead. He looks like he’s either holding his breath or about to vomit.
“It’s going to be fine,” I assure him.
He shakes his head. “This was a terrible idea.”
“We don’t have to stay long.”
He looks at me skeptically, then sits up straighter as he peers ahead. I follow his gaze, my eyes drawn to flames up ahead. I squint at them a moment before realizing the fire is contained. Four giant vases spit flames ten feet into the sky, and beyond them is a red brick mansion with seemingly every light on. String lights poke out from behind the house, and as bright as everything seems, I would venture to guess the backyard is lit up as well.
“Woah,” I say, my eyes pulled to the fire again.
Kingsley drums his knees without responding, but I catch his glance out of the corner of my eye. Malekai docks the boat, then takes Millie’s hand before twisting to face us. “You good, King?” he asks, his smirk falling when he takes in Kingsley.
Kingsley coughs and stands with too much force, sending the boat rocking. “All good.” He chuckles and gives the most awkward smile I’ve ever seen before extending his hand to me. I take it, smiling like this is a date, and let him help me up.
We all climb out of the boat, both couples hand in hand. Kingsley releases me to put his palm on my lower back as we walk up a concrete path toward the flames. The fire warms my skin even as we’re probably twenty yards away.
Malekai’s eyes light up, and he laughs. “Are you worried Layan’s gonna find out about your date?”
Kingsley shrugs. His hand dips a little too low on my backless dress, and I subtly reach around to lift it back up. He jumps at my touch and snaps his gaze to me, his expression guilty, like he wants to apologize for almost accidentally touching my ass.
I could slap him. Tell him to man the fuck up so we don’t look suspicious, but his good nature is a breath of fresh air here. I don’t know how a man like him ended up in a place like this.
“Come on, dude, Layan isn’t stupid. She knows monogamy isn’t a thing on the island.” Malakai slaps an arm around Kingsley's shoulders and chuckles. “Relax. It’s gonna be a good night.”
Did he really just say ‘dude?’
Malakai removes his arm and motions to me. “By the way, I didn’t catch your girl’s name.” His words sound like they’re directed at Kingsley, but he stares at me, so I answer.
“Hope.”
He grins and gives me a wink. “Nice to meet you, Hope.”
I face forward when a spark ignites in his eyes that I don’t like. My lip curls, but I try to flatten it.
“We should go back to my place when we leave,” he says, his meaning clear, probably even to the woman hanging off his arm. I sneak a peek to see her beaming up at him mischievously.
“Yeah, maybe,” Kingsley lies. Or at least it better be a lie.
I don’t bother adding anything, and my response is unnecessary anyway because they trail off into another subject I don’t care to listen to. Something about surfing. It sounds like Kingsley is an instructor or something.
We squeeze through a walkway that cuts through the middle of the vases, and it gets so hot for a moment, I’m scared I’m going to burn. I glance down and notice at the side of a vase are six nozzles sticking out that remind me of tiny shower heads.
I have to raise Kingsley’s hand from my ass one more time—he barely notices—before we make it to the entrance and step inside. There’s no one at the door, and I realize there weren’t any guards outside either.
It’s quiet except for our footsteps and the men’s conversation, but the noise picks up as we arrive at a double set of doors that remind me of the playroom entrance. I hold my breath as Malakai opens one, prepared to be hit with the stench of sex and loud music, but I let it out on a surprised exhale, my eyes narrowing as the room is revealed through a thick fog of smoke.
The space is large, and there are plenty of people, but it isn’t like the playroom. The music is low and classical for one thing, and for another, I can actually see in here with more than a strobe light. I don’t see a bar, only a drink cart off to the side of a card table with five men sitting around it, smoking cigars. There are a couple pool tables in the back, and people occupy a few couches in the room, some lost in conversation and some lost in each other’s lips. One thing missing stands out to me the most…
There’s no sex. No chains or devices, no stages.
Hmm.
My eyes wander the room in search of Naomi, but I don’t find her.
“Do you want a drink?” Kingsley asks me, his voice noticeably calmer. I think talking to his friend has helped. That or the edible he ate before coming here has kicked in.
I turn to him, blinking away the burn in my eyes from the smoke. “Is this it?”
He bites the corner of his lip and shrugs.
“What, you’re not impressed?” Malakai asks, coming up beside me. He drapes his arm over my shoulders like he did to Kingsley and leans into my ear. “You’re a manor girl, huh?”
His fingertips tickle my shoulder, and I press my lips together to keep from snarling. I glance at Kingsley, but he stands awkwardly, looking away like he doesn’t know what he should do.
“I’m a fan of the manor too,” Malakai says. “Maybe we’ve seen each other before?”
“Doubt it,” I say to shut down the line of thinking. “I haven’t been in a long time.”
“Yeah?” He arches a thick brow. “Aren’t you a whore?”
I glare before shrugging his arm off me and taking a step away, my attention turning to Kingsley. “Didn’t you say Digby would be here?”
“You know Digby?” Malakai cuts in.
Kingsley tucks his hands into his pockets and looks around like he just remembered what we’re here for.
“He’s probably out back or in a room.” Malakai grins wickedly. “He’s been glued to some fiery Asian girl. Seriously, dude, you have to try her. She could suck a grape through a straw.”
“How do you know that?” My jaw tenses thinking about this fucking asshole near Naomi.
He angles his neck back. “What?”
“You’ve met her?”
His face pinches as he thinks for a moment. “The Asian chick?”
“They knew each other at the manor,” Kingsley explains to him, his hand pressing between my shoulder blades. “Come on, let’s go get a drink.”
I press my lips together and let Kingsley nudge me out of the room, then he leads me down a hall.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my teeth grinding.
He stops me with a hand on my arm, and I turn to glare at him.
He glares back. “Okay, first of all, you need to chill out. I talked to Digby earlier today, so I know he’s here somewhere. Just be patient. Second of all, don’t be a dick to Malakai. He knows these people better than I do, and he’s the only thing that makes it seem like we fit in here. You’re acting suspicious, and it’s making me nervous.”
I huff even though I know he’s right. He looks less nervous now than he did on the boat, but I know I’m not helping things.
I cross my arms over my chest but let my shoulders relax. “Sorry.”
He shrugs. “It’s cool. Let’s just pretend to have a good time, all right? Digby and your friend will show up eventually.”
I suck in a breath, trying to soak up some of my impatience before releasing it. My chin rises and falls defeatedly.
Kingsley continues down the hall, and I follow him to a kitchen. When he pulls a soda from the fridge for me, I think nothing of it, but when he pulls a water out for himself, I give him a funny look.
“I don’t drink alcohol,” he mutters, twisting off the cap. “Too many toxins.”
He chugs half the bottle while I sip my soda, and after a minute, once we’ve had a chance to relax, we walk back to the room to find Malakai and Millie. They’ve formed a semicircle with a couple of guys in front of a couch where a man and woman sit.
Kingsley seamlessly slides into the group, me at his side, and it seems easy enough for him to join in on the conversation. He thinks he doesn’t fit well here, but he’s likable as hell, and it seems the others think so too. They talk for what feels like a long time about surfing before the conversation turns to gossip. My mind wanders, but I manage a nod and smile here or there until Angel’s name is said, and I perk up.
“You know he murdered another one of his slaves?” the guy on the couch says with a shake of his head. He scoffs. “Unfuckingbelievable. Kirk accidentally gets his slave pregnant, and it’s a giant deal, but Ramos can kill bitches left and right, and all Hansley does is wag his finger.”
The woman beside him rolls her eyes in agreement.
“Did he push this one off a cliff too?” Malakai asks with a tasteless chuckle none of the others mimic.
Couch Guy moves his annoyed stare to Malakai. “I don’t know, nor do I care, but it’s bullshit.”
Where did he hear this? They’re referring to me, right?
The urge to defend Angel crawls up my throat, rests on my tongue, and waits for another remark. I look away and try to ignore them before I blurt something stupid.
A guy with a mustache shrugs. “I don’t know. I like Ramos a hell of a lot more than I like Hansley. Killer or not.”
Couch Guy strokes his beard as he considers this. “Yeah, it’s kind of sad, but I feel that way too. I can’t fucking stand Hansley.”
“Hey, has anyone seen Ramos lately?” Mustache asks.
Couch Guy shakes his head. “Not here. He hasn’t been to Chaffer’s since—”
“Who hasn’t been to Chaffer’s?”
I jump as a voice sounds just behind me, and I whip around to lock eyes with a pudgy man in a dark blue suit. Dull blond hair reminding me of the color of soap bars is combed back, revealing a wide forehead with wrinkles hinting at his age. He smiles at me but not in a friendly way. More like the way you’d look at a slice of cake you forgot was in the fridge.
He puts a cigar in his mouth and puffs on it, never taking his eyes off me.
“Angel Ramos,” Couch Guy replies.
The man looks up at Couch Guy and blows the smoke in my face. My nose wrinkles as I turn away.
“The last time I checked, he was smitten with Robert Gaumond’s wife,” he says.
“Not anymore,” Couch Guy retorts. “Unless that’s a different person than the one he recently murdered.”
The man’s lips pull into a grin, and he shakes his head like this is somehow funny. “Again, huh?”
“Again.”
He puffs on his cigar and turns his head to blow the smoke this time. “I should give him a call.” He looks at Kingsley and points to me. “Is she yours?”
Kingsley’s face reddens, and whatever nerves he calmed earlier are now lit up as hot as the fire we saw outside.
“No,” I answer for him.
The man turns back to me, one eyebrow raised with intrigue. Probably because I just spoke out of turn. It doesn’t matter how long I’m on this island, I will never, ever learn. Or maybe it’s just that I don’t care.
“He’s borrowing me. I belong to Peter Shaw.”
His eyes widen, and even more wrinkles break out on his face from his Cheshire smile. “Oh, really. He finally broke down and got himself a slave, did he?” His eyes travel down my white, long sleeve dress and back up again. “He has good taste.”
My cheeks heat, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking away.
He extends his hand toward me. “Monty Chaffer.”
My tense jaw goes slack, and I quickly shut my mouth.
This is Monty Chaffer? He is the man whose attention I just drew to myself?
Oh, fuck.
I weakly shake his hand before he pulls away to brush my cheek, making me wince as the cut on my face stings. “What happened here?”
“Just an accident,” I say, my voice noticeably nervous now. I can feel Kingsley panicking beside me, and I absorb that too.
“Hmm. I like to have accidents with my slaves sometimes too.” He smiles like we’re sharing a secret, and I shudder. “If it makes you feel better, you’re still very pretty.” He moves his hand to my shoulder and squeezes. “Very pretty.”
My stomach turns as he pushes back my hair and explores the bruise on my neck.
“We should probably get going soon,” Kingsley says to me, leaning close enough that our shoulders brush. “We don’t have a lot of time before your master wants you back.”
Chaffer slowly pulls his hand away and takes a step back before he turns to Kingsley and gestures at the ceiling. “Feel free to use one of the upstairs bedrooms. There are plenty unoccupied.”
Kingsley nods. “Thank you, sir.” He puts a hand on my back and ushers me forward about ten steps before I dig my heels into the carpet and gasp at the people walking into the room.
There are five of them. Three men and two women. They stumble more than walk, and it’s hard to immediately discern who is with who with the way the group hangs on each other, clearly intoxicated.
At the back of the group, with her eyes barely open and her head on a man’s shoulder, is Naomi.
She smiles and blinks slowly, her feet dragging like she’s forgotten they’re there.
I’m frozen in place as they get closer, my eyes locking onto the white powder underneath Naomi’s nose.
Shit.
She’s so slow that the man whose shoulder she’s leaning on pulls her around to face him and lifts her by her ass. He kisses her, almost falling over, and she kisses him back with so much bliss, I think I must be imagining it.
“April,” I say, unable to help myself.
She opens her eyes and looks my way, her lips slowing when she sees me. I don’t know what I expected to see on her face when we met again. Relief maybe. Hope. Happiness. But certainly not shame.
She turns away from me as they move past us with no attempt on her part to stop.
“Do you want to stay?” Kingsley asks me.
I don’t answer. I’m too stunned to speak or move, but it doesn’t matter. The choice was never mine anyway.
Peter walks through the door, his eyes blazing with fiery rage. He storms up to us, takes my arm, and drags me from the room. I look back at the door while he yanks me with him, Kingsley apologizing profusely beside him.
He doesn’t say a word until we’re all in his boat, and even then, it’s only to snap at Kingsley to start it up.
I stare at Chaffer’s mansion as we pull away, only blinking when my eyes sting.
She’s doing drugs.
We haven’t spoken about her struggles with addiction, but I remember Sawyer pointing them out to her when she came here. He claimed to be ‘helping her’ stay sober.
Now they’re feeding the demon.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucking fuck.
I mean to only yell it in my mind, but it barrels out of me. I slam my fists down on the seat and tilt my head back as I growl at the sky.
I need to get her off this island. Right the fuck now. Elsie too.
“What were you thinking?” Peter snaps at me.
I don’t respond. Now isn’t the time.
“You could’ve gotten yourselves killed! If anyone had recognized you—”
“They didn’t,” Kingsley interrupts. “No one knew who she was. Liberty just needed to make sure her friend was okay, and she did.” He looks from the water to me. “So we’re good now, right?”
“Good?” Peter scoffs.
“You’re fucking reckless,” he sneers at me. “I should’ve never brought you here.” He faces forward and crosses his arms over his chest, his anger turning from fiery to a slow acidic burn. “You’re bringing attention right to us when we need to fly under the radar now more than ever. We need the element of surprise, otherwise, nothing we have in place will work. They outnumber us by the hundreds.” His angry eyes close. “You have no idea what you could’ve ruined.”
What I could’ve ruined… I snort, turning away and staring out at the ocean, moonlight reflecting off the water.
I don’t know everything his plan entails. He could be a mastermind. He could have a PhD in escapism for all I know.
But he’s been working on this for a year and still hasn’t gotten it done. He agreed to bring me here because he needs me. For what, neither of us are sure. It isn’t what he intended to get from me, but I’m still here, and I’m still valuable, regardless if I truly know how to ‘seduce’ men or not.
Chaffer’s image comes into my mind, and nausea coils in my gut at the way he looked at me. All beauty has ever done for me is get me into trouble. It isn’t as valuable as people might think.
Sawyer enters my mind next, another example.
I sit up straighter and look up at the stars as I consider the two men. From the conversation I heard tonight, it’s safe to say Sawyer isn’t well liked among them. And if Chaffer is the Sawyer of this side of the island, what kind of relationship do those two have?
Probably not pals. With the talk tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were enemies, despite their mutual benefit of the island. Still, Sawyer gets seventy-five percent of dues from people Chaffer brings in? That’s got to make a man bitter.
Especially if he found out about something like Sawyer cheating him out of his share.
My pulse spikes as I get an idea and turn to Peter.
“What if we pinned Sawyer and Chaffer against each other?”
He shakes his head. “Already done. They don’t need our help to hate each other.”
“Okay, but what if we antagonized them? That could create a nice distraction, couldn’t it?”
His glare softens as he sits up. “How would we do that?”
“Chaffer gets a percentage of the money the residents pay, right?”
Peter nods.
I uncross my arms and rest my palms in my lap as I lean toward him, excitement ramping me up. “What if Sawyer raised the dues without telling Chaffer?”
Peter eyes me skeptically. “He didn’t.”
“Right, and Angel didn’t kill me, yet Chaffer believes that as fact.”
Peter blinks at me, obviously confused. I forgot he wasn’t there for that.
“All we’d have to do is start a rumor.”
“We can’t start a rumor if the residents know how much they’re paying.”
Fair point.
I chew on my lip and think for a second. The solution is obvious to me, but I don’t like it. “Then one of us will have to tell Chaffer directly.”
Peter mimics my posture, leaning toward me. “By one of us, you mean…”
I rub the back of my neck and look away. Fuck, I hate this. I know what I’d have to do to get Chaffer alone, to get him to let his guard down.
I’ve done worse.
I squeeze my eyes closed and try not to think of his hands on me, try not to picture his naked body. The fact is, Elsie needs me. Naomi needs me. They don’t have forever to wait, and they’ve already been put through worse than one night with an egotistical man.
If I had a better plan, I’d go with it. But this is the one I’ve got.
With a sigh rushing past my lips, I open my eyes and look at Peter.
“Take me back.”