Chapter 26
CHAPTER
TWENTY-SIX
With the fires doused, the beach house has been scrubbed back into paradise by the time I arrive. Three guys drift in the pool while Brad reads in a lounge chair beside them, the same dark sunglasses hiding all our eyes.
There’s no evidence of last night’s playtime: no X-shaped restraining board, no floating candles, and no spotlight anywhere I can see.
It’s like it never happened. I can tell I’ll repeat that lie whenever I remember what Alistair whipped out of me. Because it did happen, and without the story in my pocket, the weight of carrying on like normal would bring me to my knees.
Brad gives me a nod, a meager kindness after keeping silent while he watched, enjoyed, and was questioned about his loyalty by Alistair. If I learned anything from Jake’s betrayal, it’s that I’m on my own for the next twenty-four hours. These guys are in too deep to do anything but pull me under.
Waving at Brad makes me think of Linus’s wave from last night, and the rage I try keeping locked away slips beneath that door inside me I’m barely keeping shut.
I don’t want to save Brad. I don’t want to save any of them. I want to take them down right alongside Alistair. If they say they want to be here, then they deserve it.
The thought has my father’s shape with Alistair’s stink. So I force it back and slam the door shut again.
They’re victims, just like me. They think I want to be here. They think I enjoyed last night.
Jake leans over the railing of the deck, an unbuttoned island shirt blowing gently behind him in the breeze. He looks good, even putting on a somber expression when he notices me.
Fuck. Why am I noticing how good he looks? Not me—Wilder. It’s my cover that has some stubborn fixation on the man I thought would help me.
I hide behind my sunglasses and redirect my focus to what he did to pass his third test. I can’t trust him, but with only nine guys and a bunch of staff, I can’t avoid him either. I troop up the stairs to where a breakfast buffet waits against the opposite railing.
Jake hurries over. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.
Those utterly insufficient words squash whatever objective good looks he might try wielding against me.
Oh, you’re sorry? It’s fine! You only drugged and humiliated me for personal gain. Don’t worry about it! Just be fucking glad I kept your name out of my story, you backstabbing—
Just leave it alone. Instead of saying anything, I pretend not to hear him and cross the deck for the white tablecloth holding silver containers of every breakfast food imaginable.
The aromas of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee waft through the air, mingling with the sweet fragrance of tropical fruits.
The trays hold an obscene mashup of colors and textures, with glistening pastries, vibrant fruit platters, and steaming savory dishes.
The spread is lavish and excessive and barely touched.
Everyone’s still recovering. A few guys are talking at the table, but nobody’s paying attention to me anyway. That’s good. I need to learn their rhythms if I’m going to slip away unnoticed.
I trace my phone’s outline in my pocket, while refocusing on the task at hand: breaking into Alistair’s office.
How the fuck do I do that?
While loading my plate, I picture the office on the hill, windows dark and uninviting.
So far, dinner’s the only time I’ve seen every guy in one place, all focused on Alistair.
That could be my opportunity. Brushing so close to whatever fresh hell he has planned for tonight would be risky, but the cover of darkness might be my only shot if I can figure out how to break away without drawing too much attention.
A few seconds of Wi-Fi or cell service would do it.
Plate full, I turn to find Jake right behind me, brow furrowed with remorse while his lips part to speak.
“Don’t.” I head off whatever stupid apology is just going to make me angrier.
He glances at the two guys engrossed in Linus’s video game at the table.
“I didn’t want to,” he says.
“No. I don’t want to.” My rising voice attracts Linus’s glance above his game before he’s back into it. “I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to see you.”
It’s a lie my body knows before my mouth does.
His nod makes my mouth run dry. I need to stay angry to stay sharp, but Alistair broke something open that Jake somehow fits inside.
He slips two fingers into the front of his waistband as his posture slumps, and my eyes trace the veins of his V-shaped—
Absolutely fucking not. I walk away, but he grabs my arm before I can escape.
The touch jolts down my spine in a conflicted mix of revulsion and desire.
I want to pull away, to throw my food at him, to yell, to scream, to break down right here on the deck, but something holds me back.
His touch is warm and gentle, his body unmoving, like he’s holding his breath waiting either for me to punch him or forgive him.
I set my jaw and avert my eyes. If I look, I’ll crack. So I stare past him, down at the pool, where its calm surface becomes my role model.
I’ve got to get off this fucking island.
Being around Alistair, around Jake, it’s starting to feel less like maintaining a cover and more like letting one grow over me.
I can’t tell what’s real, what I’m performing, or what the performance has given me permission to want.
So long as I’m here, even staring at the pool doesn’t stop the flashing memory of Jake getting hard last night.
The hunger I’d seen in him is a pale imitation of what I feel right now, of what Marcus Wilder feels.
Wilder would shove Jake against the wall, relish the second he’d brace for a punch, and then kiss him just to taste what fear does to his mouth.
I press my finger into a welt on my stomach until pain cuts through the noise. Focus. I break away and race down the steps with my breakfast.
Jake doesn’t follow me down. The stairs stay empty when I glance back, so I assume he’s still upstairs with his laptop, digging for a bug ten million dollars will make easier to squash.
A stack of books rests beside Brad’s lounge chair. Since I can’t risk draining my phone battery by pretending to scroll without cell service, I angle toward him to borrow a prop that might signal Leave me the fuck alone.
“Mind if I read one of these?” I nod at the pile beside him.
Brad grunts without looking up from Fifty Shades of Grey, and I pluck The Picture of Dorian Gray off the top.
“Alistair will like you reading that,” Brad murmurs. “He keeps a first edition in his office. Thinks it says something profound about him.”
Bingo.
“You’ve been in his office?” I try to sound casual, but my whole body turns toward that ray of sunshine.
Brad lowers his book and his glasses. “He has a playroom there.”
Of course he does. At this point, I wouldn’t blink if a dildo rose out of the pool and started spouting water like cum.
I can use this.
“I’d like to see it,” I say, letting my voice drop. “With you.”
“Oh, yeah?” His smile curves up. “Why don’t you show me?”
His tone is a command as he finally sets down the book and flexes his arm. His bicep is enormous. Amazing, really. Amazing too that his sleeve doesn’t rip trying to hold it in. He grunts an amused laugh that reminds me Marcus Wilder had said he liked muscle worship.
“Impressed?” he asks. “Go on.”
He moves his arm an inch closer, and I obey.
I drop the book and curl my fingers around his muscle, exploring the stone straining under silk.
The peak is sharp and tall, and I squeeze harder, as hard as I can without even making a dent.
I catch my bottom lip in my teeth, stunned by my inability to wrap all the way around it.
If I set my plate down, maybe two-handed… My dick stirs.
Brad pushes my hand away.
I glance over my shoulder. This time, nobody but me noticed I—Wilder—was enjoying it.
“Tempting,” he says, “but we hold our fire.”
“Dude, I just want to borrow a book.”
He flicks a hand like I’m dismissed and returns to his smut.
It’s a win, or as close as this place allows.
I take Dorian Gray to the farthest lounge chair, kick off my sandals, and settle in with my breakfast plate balanced across my thighs.
Finally, no one’s paying me any attention.
With the book propped open as cover, I can start plotting my way into the office.
And Dae’s walking toward me.
“Burning through these tests pretty quick,” he says under his breath.
The blatant rule-breaking makes me glance at Brad across the pool, and I sit up slowly. If Dae wants to break the rules, maybe he’ll help me.
“What do you want? Thought we weren’t supposed to talk about this.”
“Alistair’s not here.”
I nod toward Brad. “You sure he’d agree?”
“Don’t worry about Brad,” Dae snaps. “In fact, stay the fuck away from him.”
“Excuse me?”
He slides off his sunglasses, panic sharpening his glare. “I saw you.”
“What’s your problem?”
“You don’t know what you’re playing with. Brad’s not some toy for you to wind up.”
I almost laugh, but something in his eyes kills it. He’s afraid of something… of me.
“You jealous?”
His nostrils flare. “If you care about anything, even just yourself, you’ll stay the fuck away.”
“Look, we’re all here to get what we want and get the fuck out.”
“Maybe not all of us want out,” he snaps. “Brad, I mean. They gave his mom six weeks. But with Alistair…”
He trails off, and the righteous version of my mission collapses.
Destroying Alistair means destroying whatever miracle Brad’s mom is getting.
The cruel fantasy I’ve had about burning them all down with Alistair has major, major consequences for good people trying to make the best of the fucked-up situation we’re all stuck inside.
I put my hands up to show Dae I’m harmless. I’m just a guy with a book. No match hiding in my pocket.
Dae lingers before walking away, satisfied enough with my blank expression to leave me alone.
Finally, I open the book and hide behind it to give myself as much time as this place will allow me to think, watch, and plan. My hands itch for my phone, but I turn the pages slowly.
Patience, I remind myself. The office isn’t going anywhere.
The chances I can break into it are almost zero. Alistair could be inside. If he’s not, there could still be cameras—would definitely be cameras. Better to wait until I’m off the island than try and fail to send Evie my story from here. It’s too risky, unless it’s surefire.
If Brad’s been inside, he might still know how to get in.
The sun and island breeze wring hours of pool time from the group. It’s a lazy, boozy morning, with a poolside video game competition, a game of chicken, suntanning, and innocent chatter.
I stay glued to my chair, “reading” while working out my best way into the office.
There’s no one I can trust, a fact both isolating and empowering. Without anyone to rely on, maybe I can play the guys off each other. If I can find one point of leverage, then I can force the door open.
Turning the problem over in my head, I find only three options, which are all varying degrees of terrible: seduce Brad, enlist Jake, or ask Alistair. They all suck, but considerably less than the last option of charging the hill with a rock over my head.
“Afternoon, Marcus.”
I flinch, nearly dropping the book.
Alistair’s standing behind me with a laptop under one arm. “Hope you’re enjoying my island.”
“Um. Uh.” What the fuck do I say to the man who tied, whipped, and jerked me off? “It’s nice,” I mutter.
His smile grows thinner the longer the silence drags. He must be coming from his office. Maybe he left it unlocked.
“Good,” he finally says and walks past my chair to the pool. “Anyone hungry for lunch?”
“Meeee!” Linus throws his game controller to the ground, hops up from dangling his legs in the pool, and sprints up the deck stairs.
Everyone stands. With the whole group at the beach house, the office is empty. I could make my move, risk the cameras, stalk up the hill to try the door, and otherwise pound on the window until it breaks. But that’s anything but surefire.
So I stand up to stretch my sore back and follow the group up the stairs.
The shortest path between two points is a straight line. Maybe it doesn’t have to be so hard.
“Hey, Alistair,” I say, jogging to climb the steps beside him. “Is there any way to send a quick email?”
It comes out smooth and easy, not suspicious at all, but fuck I’m taking a risk.
“Why would you need to send an email in a place like this?” Alistair spreads his arms to bless his paradise.
“Just a quick update for a client. Won’t take more than a minute.”
“We leave tomorrow,” he says. “If you lose the client, I’ll cover the cost.”
“That’s not necessary.”
“Enjoy the disconnect. It’s rare we get to disconnect without consequence. Let me give that to you.”
I drop it, and let the thrill pass through me as the only fruit born from the lie.
Alistair joins Linus at the buffet his staff must have swapped for lunch while we lounged.
Most of the group chooses to eat their meals at the table, except for Brad. He stacks a plate high with lobster tail and Greek salad, takes one look at Linus’s animated RuPaul Drag Race debate, and heads back downstairs.
Back to Plan B: further embarrassing myself trying to seduce Brad. I grab a few sushi rolls so I don’t look suspicious and hurry to the top of the stairs where my plan falls apart. Brad’s not back in his chair. He’s gone.
“Woman’s World is just so over-the-top campy,” Linus explains at the table, snapping his fingers over his head, “that Jewels looked ridiculous actually performing. Suzie, coming out of nowhere, nails it by making fun and killing. So good. So. Good!”
Dae listens while fidgeting with his napkin, nodding but clearly disengaged. Then he scrunches the napkin into a ball and pushes his chair back, stuttering conversation over the sound of scraping. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Bathroom.”
“Okay, Queen. Thank you for sharing.”
Linus smirks, mouthing a single word to the others: brAD.
Dae goes scarlet and scurries past me, curly hair bouncing with each step down.
“You go, girl!” Linus cheers.
I watch Dae as he hustles toward the path back to our bungalows. Just before he slips out of view, Linus is proven right. Brad appears, and Dae rushes toward him, skipping the last few steps before I lose sight of them.
Of course. All my memories of the two of them shift into a new shape, steadying my pulse with the same cold satisfaction of scrolling through my story. I look back at Linus. He’s already plunged back into drag debate, blissfully unaware he just handed me a key.
Their secret.