Chapter Seventeen

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NOT ONLY HAD I been whisked away from Scott and normalcy, dumped on an island that could’ve been heaven on earth if it wasn’t for the deranged proprietor, but I’d also somehow ended up in an alternate dimension.

A paradox universe.

That was the only explanation for how I’d been bent over a boardroom table with Sully’s fingers inside me as a punishment this morning, to now staring at him over a table laden with plates, bowls, and every deliciousness on the planet this afternoon.

I hadn’t moved since he’d escorted me to my room, waved silently at the groaning fare displayed on a table that’d been elegantly dressed on the small deck outside my villa, then stalked behind me until we both sat awkwardly. Every move made us hyperaware of each other as if this was a very, very bad date.

I couldn’t help the way I ogled the food. The smoothie had granted some energy but hadn’t begun to fill the emptiness inside. My stomach snarled to devour every tasty morsel in sight, but I didn’t reach for a fork. I didn’t make any sudden moves around him...not after last time. Not after his temper had snapped the moment I’d tried to run.

It seemed we both had a gift at controlling our impulses. I’d managed to stay silent in Mexico, for the most part. I’d done okay swallowing down what I truly wanted to say—until Sully gave me no choice but to be swept away on an avalanche of insinuations and complaints.

And he’d almost gotten his anger under control after my outburst. He’d used tricks and familiar methods to dampen his rage, so he never broke the suave character of unruffled businessman he portrayed.

Yet all it’d taken to break him was for me to bolt.

A knee-jerk reaction to get away from him had bulldozed past his walls and ensured he was as much a slave to his outbursts as I was to mine.

I glared at him across the table, cursing the feathering scents coming off each dish. Paprika and garlic and smoky notes all shot up my nose with coaxing appeal.

Three-tier plates held selections and temptations of every exotic meal imaginable. However, there was no Western food. If I guessed, I’d say most of the menu was Indonesian.

Is that where we are?

My breath caught. I hadn’t had time to think how adrift I felt, not knowing where in the world I was currently residing. But with one hint of a location, my heart galloped to know more.

I didn’t want to be the first to speak. I didn’t want to seem as if I’d accepted his presence or was in any way grateful for his help. The embarrassment I’d already suffered from him driving me to such filthy acts yesterday was layered with yet more chagrin now that I’d fainted in front of him.

Two things I would never have done in front of anyone, let alone him.

I’d never fainted in my entire life.

I positively despised that he’d seen me that weak—even though it was his fault. Just like yesterday was his fault. Just like all of this is his fault!

My anger sprang from nowhere, breaking any hesitation in reaching for the food. Screw him if I moved too quickly. Fuck him for making me afraid.

Snatching a small noodle dish with crispy shallots and a fried egg on top, I snapped, “Where in Indonesia are we?”

Sully froze in his black canvas chair. His blue eyes mimicked the sparkling ocean behind him; the sun painted him in golden graces. Just like in his office, his skin didn’t shine from sweat, his heavy five o’clock shadow was immaculate, his suit without a wrinkle.

He might have a volcano for a heart, silent and seething, puffing the occasional threat of smoke, but when provoked he overflowed. His temper was magma, his lust red-hot lava, the power of his rage spilled out over everything, burning, mutilating, until finally cooling to suffocating ash.

“Clever.” He moved gracefully, cricking his neck like he did in the boardroom and placing his arms on the chair rests. “What makes you think you’re in Indonesia?”

I chewed a mouthful of the best tasting noodles in my life. I didn’t rush. Not for him. I savoured every bite, and when I swallowed, I blotted my mouth daintily with a napkin.

Finally, I pinned him with a stare. “This is Mie Goreng. It’s an Indo dish.”

“And you know that how?”

“I might be young, but I’m not stupid.” I dug deeper into the nest of noodles, peering at the ingredients, ready to take another bite.

Huh.

No prawn.

No chicken.

Normally, I had to shove aside meat in dishes people gave me without asking if I was a meatasaurus. In this dish, however, only fresh veggies and saturated flavours waited for my fork.

His nostrils flared as he tipped his head in a half-mocking bow. “So, you’re clever at deducing information from your surroundings.”

“Don’t mock me.”

His eyebrow arched. “Mock you?”

“You sound totally shocked that I might have a brain.”

He ran a hand over his mouth, never taking his piercing sea gaze off me. “Oh, I know you have a brain, Eleanor Grace. And a wicked sharp tongue to match.”

I vibrated with words clambering up my throat. I’d put my wicked tongue to use by flaying him alive with yet more harsh truths of his treatment, but...I’d just said I wasn’t stupid.

And picking yet another fight before I’d eaten would be stupid.

Antagonising him before I had a chance to stuff as much of this delicious fare into my mouth as possible would be the epitome of stupid.

It would also be horribly wasteful.

Ignoring him, I reached for another bowl holding chargrilled aubergine drizzled with peanut sauce. Stabbing the perfectly cooked vegetable, I couldn’t hold back my moan as a perfect blend of ginger, peanut, and rich eggplant exploded on my tongue.

Wow.

He chuckled under his breath. “You didn’t like my elixir, but you like my food.”

“Your elixir is an abomination.”

“Yet my food is a blessing.”

“It is when you starved me.”

He nodded and fanned his fingers out in surrender. “Touché.”

Leaning back in my chair, I refused to study him. To try and read what he kept hidden. I just let basic survival be my shield. “Why are you still here? I don’t need babysitting and I thought you didn’t demean yourself by spending any more time than necessary with your ‘goddesses’.”

“You say that word like it’s filthy.”

“It is.”

“They don’t think so.”

“They’re trapped and brainwashed girls. Wait until I remind them of what a gilded cage you’ve ensnared them in.”

He laughed again, cold and calculating but with a thread of heat. “Go ahead. Tell them. They’ll soon put you in your place.” He leaned forward, stabbing his elbows into the table and steepling his hands. “Let me remind you that my girls crave me. They want me, not just for the term of our contract, but forever.” His voice lowered, as if one could be hiding in the bushes watching us. “If they saw this...saw us, you’d probably not be well-liked. They’d be...” He smiled slow and wolf-like. “Jealous.”

“Jealous because I’ve somehow caught the attention of a monster? What poor, delusional souls.”

His smile turned sharper with white canines. “Jealous because you’ve only been here one night and already you’ve enjoyed more of my company than any of their days combined.”

I rolled my eyes. “Lucky me.”

His gaze tightened, the blue of his irises darkening with warning. “I’m keeping myself on a tight leash, Goddess Jinx, but just because I’m allowing you liberties, don’t think for a fucking moment that I can’t take them away.”

Goosebumps darted over my skin.

How did he do that?

How did he change his voice from plush velveteen to deadly dagger?

Shuddering in my chair, I didn’t back down. No matter how reckless I’d been, I still couldn’t control my suicidal rage toward this man. I had a physical reaction to his presence. I itched with overwhelming hate. “Well, please tell your jealous goddesses that I’ll happily trade places. I’d be overjoyed to be inconsequential to you, rather than some puzzle you’re trying to solve.”

“Why do you think you’re a puzzle?” He watched me like a hunter.

I stabbed a fork in his direction. “Because of the way you’re looking at me right now.”

“Like how?” He scowled, wrinkling his roguish face.

“Like you can’t understand why you want me. As if you’re debating if you should drag me into the sea and drown me or...” I bit my lip, shutting myself up.

Stop it.

Just eat.

Ignore him.

I speared a caramelized carrot, dripping in sweet and spicy sauce. Biting it in two, I chewed with utmost concentration, replacing the tingling heat of our conversation with the numerous dishes waiting for my belly.

“Or what?” he murmured, his voice licking like island air—heavy, hot, and entirely too decadent.

I ate another carrot, hating the knots in my stomach caused by his stare, cursing the pebbling of nipples that were chaffed and sore from my over-sexed ministrations yesterday.

“Tell me, Eleanor, should I drown you or...”

I shivered, stabbing a piece of garlic-infused morning glory. Crispy fried tofu rested on top of the green veggies and its pretty yellow flowers.

He sighed, arching his hips as if making room for yet another hard-on. “We both know what you don’t want to say. And...” He wiped his mouth again as one hand disappeared beneath the table. His bicep flexed as he fisted himself. “You’re right.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“It doesn’t mean you’re not thinking it. That I’m not thinking it. That every second I sit here, pretending to be a gentleman, entertaining you as if you were my guest and not my property, that it’s not there...in the background, tainting everything.”

My hands shook as I selected a dish with pumpkin and coconut cream. “You’re ruining my appetite.”

“Our conversation is ruining your appetite, or the knowledge that I’m fighting every fucking instinct not to drag you into that villa and fuck you until you pass out again?”

My fork clattered to the table, spraying the white linen with coconut cream. I braced my spine and stared him dead in the eyes. “Why don’t you then? You’ve threatened me enough. Just get it over with.”

He groaned as he forced his hand off his erection and back onto the armrest. “If I did, I doubt I’d stop even if you did pass out.”

“Is that meant to scare me?”

“Does it?”

“Of course, it does.” I sneered. “I could sit here and tell you that you’re never going to touch me. That I won’t allow it. But we both know that’s a lie. It’s a lie because you’re ten times stronger and twice as big.” Brandishing a butter knife, I added, “To be honest, I’m tired of all of this. I’m tired of you. I’m tired of this place. I’m tired of being afraid. I’d rather you just did whatever you’re going to do then left me the hell alone.”

Tears pricked but not from grief. They were made up of pure liquid rage. I’d hoped I might avoid being this bastard’s plaything. I’d hoped that whatever strange and undeniable hum existed between us would die before he touched me again.

But...sitting there, with the pretence of lunch between us and the lapping ocean creeping higher up his shores, I couldn’t be naïve any longer.

This was an island of sex.

The chances of escaping before I had to provide such a service were slim to non-existent, but it didn’t mean I’d ever stop trying. Man after man, night after night, I would submit to this asshole’s commands because I had no choice, but I would never stop trying to reclaim my freedom.

But how could I vanish when he never stopped watching me?

How could I slip away undetected if Sully Sinclair gave in to the burning, sickening violence between us?

The truth was, I wouldn’t be able to.

If he kept taunting me like a panther with giant claws, batting me from paw to paw, constantly trying to decide if he should use me or dispatch me, I didn’t stand a chance.

One or the other had to happen.

Sex or murder.

And sooner rather than later.

He reclined in his chair, smoothing his grey tie. “An outburst like that is normally severely reprimanded.”

“How? By fucking the poor girl into submission?”

“No, by reminding her that all the luxuries and pleasantries she enjoys can be taken away, just like that.” He snapped his fingers. “Her villa, her food, her clothing, her very value. They can vanish in one argument, leaving her naked and alone on some forgotten part of my archipelago, dying of sun exposure and dehydration.”

“And that’s why you think you’re god, I suppose. Because you can snuff out anyone’s life so easily.”

“Precisely.” He buffed his fingernails on his blazer. His eyes flashed as if he didn’t want to admit something but was going to anyway. “I could send you out there for a day or two for a much-needed lesson. Your skin would crack from sunburn. You’d drink saltwater for a reprieve. You’d become delusional and be only too happy to fuck me when you realised how your existence is a mere speck within my hand, but...where is the revenue in that? Sunburn takes a while to heal. There are long-lasting effects of chronic dehydration. The only path for you, my wicked-tongued Jinx, is fucking me or fucking a guest. One I don’t get paid for and the other I do. I still haven’t decided which is more valuable to me yet.”

I swallowed hard.

I’d stood up to this prick. I’d talked to him without a wobble in my voice or tears in my eyes, but whatever energy the smoothie had given me was suddenly evaporated all over again. I quaked with hunger and horror. I no longer had an appetite, but I was starving.

More starving than I’d ever been in my life.

For help, for hope, for kindness.

My back remained straight as a sword, but my shoulders deflated in defeat. He’d won. He’d always win. All I had left was his generosity and continued restraint. Without another argument, I reached for a dish of bean sprouts and tempeh all stir-fried with baby mushrooms.

I stopped with a forkful of juicy mushroom on its way to being eaten. I peered at the table. At every dish and delicacy. And my hatred threaded with a tiny cord of confusion.

No meat.

Anywhere.

No roast duck or barbecued pig.

No fish or crustacean or condemned creature with a heartbeat.

I looked up and caught his blazing stare. And instead of responding to his own internal debate. Instead of giving reasons why he should continue to hold my value higher for another to use rather than himself, I asked an insanely important question. “All these dishes are vegetarian.” I gulped. “How...how did you know?”

I hadn’t told the traffickers my dietary preferences.

I hadn’t told him.

Had he researched my name and tracked me down? Had he stalked my profiles and social media? But if he had...how did he know? I wasn’t vocal about my lifestyle. Even Scott remained quiet on his vegetarianism because most of his friends were jocks and mocked him for choosing plants over beasts.

This man who put such little worth on a human life had served me a lunch where nothing had to die.

Why?

Sully continued to sit silently. His body seethed with temper all while thoughts and secrets battled in his eyes. Finally, slowly, he stood.

He moved toward me until he towered over my chair. He didn’t speak a word as he bent and cupped my chin, holding me firm. “You’re a vegetarian?” he asked in a clipped, cold voice, but beneath that was the brittleness of agitation.

I nodded, or as much as I could in his control.

His eyes snapped shut. His nostrils flared. He visibly shook before he shoved away whatever anger surged in his veins and dug his fingers painfully into my cheeks. “Nothing alive will end up on your plate while you serve me. Everything you eat on this island is grown by my own cultivators. My gardens and greenhouses are located one island over. My eggs are laid by free-range hens. My cheese is made from hand-milked cows and goats. Every morsel I feed you has come from the land that I rule.”

My eyes bugged.

That was...that was enlightened. That was the habit and choice of someone who either cared about his footprint on this earth or had too much empathy to slaughter or cause suffering.

That didn’t fit with the bastard who took great pleasure from my suffering. It didn’t compute with what I knew about him.

What do you know about him?

Nothing.

I flinched as he bowed closer and pulled me nearer at the same time. Our noses brushed, our eyes locked, and for a terrifying second, I thought he’d kiss me.

But then the moment passed, and he tossed me away as if he couldn’t tolerate touching me any longer. Rebuttoning his blazer and smoothing down his dishevelled edges, he backed away, ready to leave.

And once again, I did something I’d never in a million years thought I’d do. I held up a hand, asking him to stay, needing to ask a question.

A question he’d asked me.

A question I wasn’t entirely sure I’d like the answer to.

“Who are you?” I squinted in the bright afternoon sun. “What man can be so empathic toward animals yet be so callous toward humans?”

He mulled over my query as if it were an astringent wine. His lips thinned, his eyebrows tugged to shadow vibrant blue eyes, and he finally murmured, “I’m empathetic to those creatures born into horror and mutilation. I am not empathetic to the creatures who caused it. I’m using the rules to my own advantage. We slaughter and maim others. Therefore, we are not above slaughter and torture ourselves.”

“So...I’m a chicken to you. A cow destined to—”

“You’re human. But humans are disposable. Men, women...we’re all the same. We think cages are beneath us. We think forced rape is beyond us. We think death is unthinkable because we’re special.” He swiped a hand through his dark, bronze-tipped hair. “We’re not special.” His lips curved into an icy, heartless smile. “We’re just monsters with the ability to speak. Monsters who pay any price to be free.”

Turning around, he stalked toward the villa. I sank deep into depressed realisation as he left me on the deck, surrounded by delicious, untouched food that had grown in his soils and blossomed under his care.

Sully operated within his own laws. The laws that humans had devised for livestock.

That was all I was.

Livestock.

With no voice.

No choice.

His dark, seductive timbre sliced over his shoulder. “Enjoy your evening alone, Eleanor. Because tomorrow...you’ll have company to entertain.”