Chapter 19 The Slave in the Cage
Chapter nineteen
The Slave in the Cage
Nyomi
We entered her villa.
Oh, this is nice.
The living room had been transformed. Racks lined the walls—red lingerie, leather pieces, harnesses, straps.
Incense curled from somewhere I couldn't see, filling the space with something dark and sweet.
And in the center of it all. . .Zo.
I grinned.
In true Zo fashion, he was lounging on a chaise. A king holding court. Silk pajamas. Martini in hand. One leg extended while a person knelt at his feet—tall, beautiful, with sharp cheekbones and long painted nails—carefully applying a top coat to his toes.
Another person stood beside him holding a small plate of grapes, occasionally placing one between his lips.
He looked ridiculous and glorious all at the same time.
He saw me and gave a lazy wave. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you,”
Zo assessed my gown and hair. “Granted I would have done even better.”
“No doubt.”
"I would stand, but I don't want to mess up my nails."
“Oh, we wouldn’t want that.”
“I know. Right?” He wiggled his freshly painted toes.
I couldn't help it. I chuckled. "I see you've been having a difficult time on the island."
"Oh, the most difficult." He pressed a hand to his chest. "The stress, Nyomi. The trauma. You have no idea what I've endured on this island. No idea."
"Oh really? What trauma have you gone through. Was it the pyre?"
He blinked. “The what?”
Hiroko shook her head. “She’s talking about the BBQ we weren’t invited to.”
I quirked my brows.
“I told him not to think about it.” Hiroko shrugged her shoulders. “Surely, there will be other BBQs. Right?”
“Uh. . .yes.” I figured Hiroko did not want to deal with a Zo that knew there’d been a pyre of hundreds of people burning today. And being that I’d dealt with an anxious Zo many times before, I understood. “Yeah. And don’t worry. I didn’t go to the BBQ either.”
“Oh.” Zo nodded. “Then, clearly they didn’t want the best people there, because honey, we are everything and more.”
“Yes. We are.”
“It did smell so good.”
My stomach twisted. “Yeah. . .delicious.”
"But anyway, let’s get back to my hardships.” Zo waved that away. “First, there was the lack of proper skincare products. Then the absence of decent Wi-Fi. And don't even get me started on the thread count of the sheets in my room."
He shuddered. "Criminal. Absolutely criminal."
I laughed, and it felt good. A pure release after Hiroko’s little horror story in the golf cart.
"But I persevered." Zo took a grape from the attendant's fingers and popped it into his mouth. "I found the weed hookup. I connected with Deja and Nika. And you know how Deja’s cousin is. . .a pure cheapskate. She took all my weed, so I had to go back and get more. That’s the last time I’m smoking with Nika.
Like talk about poverty mindset! Anyway, I demanded better pillows and received them. All and all, I survived."
"You’re a true hero."
"I know. It is exhausting being this resilient."
The person at his feet finished the topcoat and began gathering their supplies.
Zo examined his toes with approval, then glanced back at me. “Perfect.”
And for a moment, watching him there—pampered, attended to, surrounded by luxury—I thought of Kiko.
Kenji’s Maybe-baby mama.
Where is she now? And what is she doing?
I was sure that she was being pampered somewhere on this island too. Carrying twins tended to earn you that kind of treatment. Especially when those twins might belong to the Dragon.
Might.
That word sat in my chest like a stone.
Hiro had told me they hadn't done a paternity test. Said it wasn't their way to disturb a pregnancy. That the testing would come after the babies were born.
And I understood that. Respected it, even.
But understanding didn't stop the wondering. Because those twins could be Kenji's. Or Hiro's. Or even his father's.
Three men.
One woman.
Two babies.
And no answers until they arrived.
There had to be a way to know sooner. There had to be.
I hated that I thought about that in this moment.
Her pregnancy was the pause button.
That's what it felt like. Like everything between Kenji and me—the love, the future, the children—all of it had an asterisk next to it. A footnote that read pending maybe-baby mama’s results.
If those twins were Hiro's, the asterisk disappeared. We moved forward clean.
But if they were Kenji's. . .
Then I wasn't just his woman. I was a stepmother. Helping the Dragon co-parent with a woman I didn't trust. Sharing his bloodline with someone who had been in his bed long before me.
And it wasn't like I could leave if the results came back wrong.
Kenji would never let me go. I knew that with the same certainty I knew my own name. The Dragon didn't release what he claimed. Those bite marks on my neck were proof of that.
So, I'd stay either way.
Love him, either way.
But I wanted our life to start without a question mark hanging over it. I wanted to look at him and not wonder if somewhere on this island, a woman was carrying his children while I was just now learning what his shadow looked like.
I exhaled and pushed it down. Buried it beneath the incense and the laughter and Zo's ridiculous silk pajamas.
Not tonight.
Tonight wasn't for Kiko.
Tonight was for whatever Kenji had planned behind that calm smile and those dark eyes.
Zo must have seen something shift in my face because his expression softened. Just for a moment. Then he sat up, careful not to disturb his pedicure. "Well. Enough about me and my woes. Let me get you dressed for the Dragon."
“Oh. You’re dressing me.”
“Of course.” A wicked smile spread across his face. "Because tonight is going to be a lot of fun."
He rose and walked to the other side of the living room, and that was when I noticed the cage.
What the fuck?
In the corner of the room.
Half-hidden by a rack of leather harnesses.
A man was inside a cage. Full leather. Face covered with a mask. A black ball was in his mouth. Crouched on his hands and knees like an animal.
I froze. "Uh. . .who is this?"
The cage was barely big enough for him. His knees pressed against the bars. His back curved to fit the space. And yet his breathing was relaxed.
Hiroko was at the rack of leather lingerie and barely glanced over. "He's my pet."
The pet purred. The sound was low and rumbling, barely human.
It also sent a chill down my spine.
"Would you like to meet him?" Hiroko stepped back from the rack. "I could let him out."
Zo cleared his throat.
I looked at Zo. He shook his head slowly.
"Oh. No thank you." I took a small step back and then I looked directly at the pet. "Unless you want to get out."
The pet didn't look at me or acknowledge my words at all. He simply continued to stare at Hiroko with pure obsession in his eyes.
He didn't want out.
He didn't want freedom.
He wanted to stay exactly where she had put him, right in that damn cage.
Hiroko smiled softly at her pet. Tenderness passed across her face. Then she turned back to me. "Now. Let's get you ready."
One of her assistants came over and handed me a towel. "You have to take a shower.”
“What?”
“Yes, and quickly. We need to make sure there's nothing on your skin. No oils. No lotions. No perfume. Nothing that could interfere with the scene or cause you harm."
Cause me harm?
I wanted to ask what that meant. What kind of scene required skin this clean? But Hiroko was already turning away, and I knew she would not answer anyway.
"The bathroom is through there. Be thorough, Nyomi and fast."
O-kay. . .
I went.
The bathroom was small but elegant—stone tile, a rain shower, soft lighting. I stripped out of the phoenix gown as well as the undergarments and stepped under the water.
It was warm.
Cleansing.
I scrubbed every inch of myself, wondering what the hell I was preparing for.
No oils to not interfere with what?
Once I washed up well, I turned off the water and grabbed a towel.
When I stepped out, two of Hiroko's assistants were waiting. They didn't speak—just gestured for me to stand still while they patted me dry with clinical efficiency.
One of them checked my arms, my legs, my back. Looking for something. Residue, maybe. Whatever might be left on my skin.
Hiroko appeared in the doorway, studied me for a moment, and then nodded. "Good. You're ready."
I wrapped the towel tighter around myself. "Ready for what?"
She didn't answer.
I rolled my eyes.
Zo was waiting in the main room with an arsenal of red leather spread across the chaise.
"Finally." He clapped his hands together. "Let's make you fuckable."
I laughed despite myself. "That's the goal?"
"Baby, that's always the goal." He held up a piece of red leather—panties, barely there, with straps that would sit high on my hips. "Tonight, we're doing dominatrix chic, but making it fuckable. Powerful but pretty. Dangerous but delicious. Honey, we want you to walk in and his cock explodes."
He tossed me the panties.
I caught them.
He clapped again. "Put those on. Drop the towel. We don't have all night."
I looked at Hiroko. At her assistants. At the pet still crouched in his cage, watching nothing but his mistress.
Zo rolled his eyes. "Girl, nobody in this room cares about your body except me, and I've already seen everything. Multiple times. From multiple angles."
Fair point.
I dropped the towel and stepped into the panties. The leather was soft—buttery, expensive—but it still felt foreign against my skin.
Zo circled me like a shark, tugging at the straps, adjusting the fit.
"Good. Good." He grabbed the matching top—a red strappy thing that was more harness than bra, with leather bands that would cross over my chest and wrap around my ribs. "Arms up."
I raised my arms.
He slipped the top over my head and began fastening the buckles at my back. His fingers were quick, practiced. He'd done this before. Maybe not with leather fetish gear, but the principle was the same.
I whispered, "Do you know what we're about to do?"