Chapter 33 Mattie
MATTIE
"I'll wait for you in the bar," Petrov said as they entered the hotel.
"It will take me ten minutes." Mattie was beyond grateful for the escort.
She'd put on a brave face for Dimitri, but the truth was that she was terrified of encountering Tarik again, and there was a good chance that he would come to torment her or worse.
There wasn't much Petrov could do but just having him there would be a much-needed emotional support. Heck, it was necessary. She doubted she could make the rounds otherwise.
"Take your time," he said with a smile. "I'll order my first drink from the barman." He winked and headed for the bar.
His first drink had probably been as soon as he had opened his eyes, but he seemed surprisingly sober despite finishing an entire bottle of vodka. It had been half full when she and Dimitri had come down to the lab, and when she and Petrov had left a couple of hours later, it was all gone.
It was a shame, really, that he was ruining his health like that, but it was his life, and he was battling his own demons in his own way.
The staff quarters were quiet at this hour.
Most of the maids and service workers were on duty, cleaning rooms or serving the midday meal in the various dining areas scattered across the complex.
Thankfully, Mattie's roommates would be among them, so she wouldn't have to answer questions about where she'd been.
The door to the room she shared with three other women was unlocked because no one bothered with locks in the staff quarters.
They had nothing worth stealing. Well, that wasn't true.
They didn't have any possessions worth taking, but they had bodies that the immortals considered possessions as well.
Not that a lock would do them any good if an immortal decided that he wanted to get in.
Inside, she stripped quickly, tossing the wrinkled uniform into her laundry basket, and pulled a fresh set from her shelf in the closet.
The white blouse was crisp, and the black trousers were properly pressed.
She tucked and buttoned and smoothed until she looked presentable, then checked her reflection in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door.
Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes too bright, and she looked like a woman who'd been thoroughly pleasured. That wasn't good. The immortals would assume she'd been with one of them, which would signal that she was available and willing.
She wished Dimitri and Petrov would hurry up with that smelly pheromone-suppressing lotion, but since their workflow had been disrupted so they could take turns guarding her, that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.
With a sigh, she walked out the door and headed for the bar.
She found Petrov seated at his usual table with a glass of amber liquid in front of him, and he raised it in salute as she crossed the room.
"Much better," he said as she reached his table. "You almost look respectable."
"Almost?"
"The 'I just got laid' glow is hard to hide." He took a sip of his whiskey. "It's a good look on you, but you shouldn't advertise it. Hunch your shoulders and stop smiling."
"Yes, sir." Mattie rolled her eyes and made her way behind the bar, where Anil was arranging bottles on the display.
"Hi, Anil," she said, picking up her tray.
He turned, his dark eyes scanning her face with concern. "How are you doing?"
"Scared," Mattie admitted. "I'm afraid that he'll come back, or that he's told others and they'll give me trouble."
Anil's expression darkened. He glanced around the empty bar before leaning closer.
"He did come back," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yesterday. Sat at the back table for a long time."
The blood drained from Mattie's face. "Did he ask about me?"
"He didn't ask, but it was obvious that he was waiting for you. He came alone this time, sat with a drink for almost an hour, and when you didn't show up, he finally got tired of waiting and left. I was so glad that you weren't coming in."
A shiver ran down Mattie's spine.
Tarik had been waiting for her alone, and for some reason, that was worse than if he'd brought his pack of friends. They had seemed more reasonable and had stopped him from killing Dimitri. He was much more dangerous on his own.
He was a predator stalking his prey.
"If he shows up again, you need to get out of sight immediately," Anil said. "Duck into the supply room behind the bar and lock the door from the inside. Don't come out until I tell you it's safe."
Mattie snorted. "You think that a locked door will stop an immortal? He could break it down with two fingers."
"Punishments for destruction of property got much harsher after the rebellion. They're cracking down on anything that damages the infrastructure. Even commanders have to answer for it."
It was ironic that Tarik would face consequences for breaking a door, but not for breaking a woman. Property was protected. Humans were not, especially females.
This island was a nightmare masquerading as a tropical resort.
"I hope he will not come," she said, because there was nothing else to say.
The lunch rush started slowly, with a trickle of immortal commanders filtering in from whatever duties occupied their mornings.
They came in pairs and small groups, sitting at the tables and calling for drinks with the casual arrogance of men who were used to having their orders followed immediately.
Mattie moved between them, taking orders and delivering glasses with a fake smile plastered on her face. She kept her movements brisk and professional, avoided lingering at any table longer than necessary, and tried to make herself as invisible as she could.
It didn't work.
She could feel their eyes on her as she crossed the room. Hungry looks that followed the sway of her hips, the curve of her waist, the modest neckline of her blouse. Every glance felt like a violation, a prelude to something worse.
This didn't make sense. Tarik couldn't have told anyone what happened that night because it would expose the fact that a human had attacked him and that he had almost killed Lord Navuh's pet.
Then again, he might have told his friends a different version. Maybe he'd spread the word that the barmaid was easy, even eager for immortal attention. A venom slut who was desperate for her fix.
That was true for some of the maids who had served in the brothel before getting kicked out for being too old and losing their youthful beauty. They were addicted to the euphoria caused by the venom these immortals injected into their partners during sex.
Her fears crystallized into certainty when the comments started.
"Come here, beautiful," one of them called as she passed his table.
She smiled and rushed to another table.
"That's not a genuine smile, sweetheart," another said when she delivered his drink. "Smile like you mean it if you want to have a good time."
And then the hands began.
A palm on her hip as she leaned to set down a glass. Fingers brushing her thigh as she walked past. Each touch casual, almost accidental, but it was a clear message that these immortals believed they could do whatever they wanted with her.
Mattie kept her fake smile fixed in place and her movements steady, but inside she was screaming.
She was delivering drinks to a table of four commanders when one of them grabbed her wrist, and before she could react, he yanked her sideways, pulling her off balance and directly into his lap.
"Stay for a little bit," he said, his arm wrapping around her waist like a steel band. "Keep me company."
"Please, sir. Let me go." Mattie tried to keep the panic from her voice. "I need to serve the other customers."
"They can wait." His hand slid higher on her waist, fingers splaying across her ribs, just below her breast. "Such a pretty girl shouldn't waste her time serving drinks. It would be much better served in my bed with your legs spread wide and your pretty mouth shouting my name."
The other immortals at the table hooted their agreement, one adding that he had better use for her mouth.
It was getting harder to keep the panic at bay. They were talking about sharing her.
"Please. I really should—"
"You should do what you're told." His grip tightened, pulling her more firmly against his chest. "Women were created for one purpose only, and that is to serve men. Know your place, female, or I'll teach you to obey."
Mattie caught movement in her peripheral vision, and for a moment, she feared that more immortals were joining the show, but it was Petrov, who was crossing the bar with a deceptively casual stride.
His face was relaxed, his body language loose and unthreatening, but the immortals noticed him.
"Excuse me," Petrov said pleasantly, stopping beside the table. "But you have my girl. She belongs to me."
The immortal holding her looked up, his expression shifting from predatory interest to threatening. "Your girl?"
"Yes." Petrov smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Lord Navuh gave Mattie to me as a gift. A reward for my excellent work on the enhancement project."
The arm around Mattie's waist loosened slightly. Not enough to free her, but enough to signal uncertainty.
"I have a hard time believing that," the immortal said, but his grip on Mattie had loosened further.
"You can verify it if you like." Petrov extended a hand toward Mattie. "In the meantime, I'd appreciate it if you returned my property. I don't like her being touched by other males, and I need her to get me a drink."
A tense moment stretched between them. The immortal's eyes moved from Petrov to Mattie to the other commanders at his table, calculating risks and rewards.
Then he shoved Mattie off his lap with a grunt of disgust. "Fine. Take her. But if I find out you're lying..."
"As I said, you're welcome to ask Lord Navuh yourself." Petrov took Mattie's hand and pulled her smoothly to her feet, tucking her under his arm in a possessive gesture.
One of the other immortals leaned forward. "You already have a woman at the brothel, and you monopolize all of her time."
"So? I have a voracious appetite." Petrov patted his substantial belly and laughed. "One woman is never enough, and I'm definitely worth two to Lord Navuh. He said I can get as many as I want, but for now, two will do."
Skeptical glances were exchanged around the table, but no one challenged him further. The immortal who had grabbed her reached for his drink, looking eager to move past the embarrassing moment, and his companions followed suit.
Petrov pressed a kiss to the top of Mattie's head and gave her a gentle pat on her bottom. "Get back to work, sweet girl," he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
She nodded and walked away on shaky legs, collecting empty glasses and taking new orders with unsteady hands. When she passed Petrov's table a few minutes later, she paused to kiss his cheek.
"Thank you," she whispered against his skin.
His hand caught her arm. "Play along," he murmured back. "They're still watching."
He pulled her down into his lap, and Mattie went willingly, settling against his barrel chest and resting her head on his shoulder. His arm came around her, heavy and warm, and he patted her back in a rhythm that was oddly soothing.
It reminded her of her father.
The thought came unbidden, bringing with it a pang of loss so sharp it made her eyes sting. Her father used to hold her like this when she was small, patting her back while she cried over skinned knees, schoolyard mishaps, and spats with her friends.
Petrov was about fifteen to twenty years older than her, hardly old enough to be her father, but he was older than her father had been when he'd held her like that, and right now, tucked against his solid warmth, protected by his fake claim, she felt something she hadn't felt since the traffickers had taken her.
Safe.
It wouldn't last.
The ruse would fall apart eventually, and then they'd all be in trouble. But in this fleeting moment, she was safe.
Mattie closed her eyes and allowed herself to pretend that it was real.