11. Adriana
11
ADRIANA
PRESENT DAY
I don’t see Josie again until the next day. I’m taken from the room I’m in, still dressed in my nightshirt.
Josie is being forced into a different room, along with another girl. I pass them by as I’m pulled down the corridor. Our wide, terrified gazes meet for an instant, and the bond even that brief moment creates is strong.
We say so much in those seconds. We understand. We will survive if we can. Help is coming, Josie’s eyes say. Hang on.
Then I’m dragged by, and the moment is broken. I try to take in as much of my surroundings as I can. It isn’t a small boat, but if I can memorize the layout, I may have a chance to escape if the opportunity arises.
I glance back at Josie, still able to see them through the wide open door, and she nods at me, giving me strength. The girl with her is being pushed and pulled, and she looks so young my heart breaks.
“Sit down, and stop fucking struggling, bitch.” One of the goons pushes the girl down.
“My name is Mila , asshole.” She holds her head up, terrified, bedraggled but still fighting.
Mila , the girl Josie told me about. She has people coming for her. That means we have hope.
I cling to it like a child to its mother. I hold it close to my heart, letting it light the darkness threatening to suck me under.
Giving up is not an option. So far, no one has touched me, but my instincts tell me that won’t last.
The men push me into a large room where a woman waits. She’s in her mid-twenties, and her face is hard and thin. She has marks on her cheeks that almost look like burn scars. She indicates the underwear on the bed.
“Wil this do?” she asks. The smell of stale cigarettes wafts over me when she speaks, reigniting the churning in my belly.
The men glance at it and nod.
It’s trashy, red, lacy, but not real lace; it’s the cheap, stretchy stuff. My heart plummets. You only put a woman in this sort of underwear for one reason.
“No,” I say. “No. No. No.” I begin to back up, but one of the men stops me.
“Fucking gag her,” another complains. “I don’t want to hear her stupid voice.”
They gag me and strip me while I’m shaking with fear, but they don’t touch me sexually. These men are treating me like a job, I realize. Their hands handle me as if I’m an object, brisk and fast. It’s a blessing. After years of men leering at me, there’s something almost pleasant in this brusque disinterest, or there would be, if I wasn’t sure they were going to kill me at some point.
The door opens, and Skinny Boy, my first guard, sticks his head in the room. His gaze takes me in, and he lets loose a low whistle as they manhandle me.
“It’s a pity none of us get to play with her. Dorian is being greedy.”
The man undressing me grunts. “He’ll have your head on a platter if you try.”
“It’s kind of sick, though,” Skinny Boy says. “Aren’t they related?”
“Not by blood,” the man nearest to me says. “She’s Hana’s stepdaughter. Anyway, he’s not going to fuck her. Have fun with her, maybe, but her pussy will stay intact.”
Faintness washes over me, and my legs buckle, but the man holds me up.
They pull the underwear on as I try not to react to the fact that they’re seeing me naked and exposed. So far, they’ve let me go to the toilet, and that’s it. I haven’t had anything to eat or drink, and I’m so thirsty it hurts.
They finish making me look how they want and then push me onto the bed.
Then they put new restraints on my arms and force me onto my stomach. I kick and scream around the gag, terrified they’re going to do something horrific to me, but they merely fasten my wrists to the headboard.
My heart pounds as I tense, waiting. My skin tingles, waiting for a touch, but there’s nothing but footsteps and the door closing. My God, they’ve gone. A sob escapes me. My upper body is spread out like a starfish, which hurts, but soon the fear and panic recede, exhaustion lapping at my shores instead. I close my eyes and cry softly into the pillow.
My head throbs, and the padded restraints are making my arms sore because of the angle they’re holding them at.
The gag is soaked with my saliva, and I wonder if I should try to suck some out of it, except the thought makes me heave.
How did this happen to me? I should have left my stepmother’s home as soon as I realized she was a Prosecco addicted, hate-filled woman who loathed me. I was only protecting my baby stepbrother, and for that I have wound up in this precarious situation. I should have forced Dad to get his nose out of the bottle and take my concerns seriously.
These men are going to use and abuse me.
How much does Hana owe them? It can’t be a lot because surely, I’m not worth that much money to them. Also, if Dorian is family, why hasn’t he forgiven her debt?
It must be bad. She said something about not wanting people to find out. What did that mean? The more I think about my predicament, the worse it seems. They want me intact, for what? To sell?
Hana will be greeting my father soon. How will she keep on covering this up? Will she say I was taken or lie and say I left? Has she called the police, but pretended not to know anything?
I hate her, I seethe with it. Anger is good. Anger means I still have fight left in me.
When they try to touch me, I won’t let it happen without a fight.
There’s a draft blowing in from somewhere, and it makes me shiver.
Maybe I can run when I escape and take Cade with me. Would Barnie and Sian let us stay with them, if I can figure out how to get the two of us to England?
I let a memory of Cade trying to play Jenga wash over me. His pudgy fingers slotting the bricks on top of others at bad angles, so they’d topple. At first, I thought he was just too young to play the game, until I realized that he liked to see the pile fall, and he placed the bricks badly on purpose. His smile each time it happened was so funny.
“Uh-oh, not again,” he’d say.
I had pulled him to me and kissed his soft head of hair. Hana looked at us as if we were aliens sitting at her dining table, and she had no idea what to do with us.
Screams and shouts from outside bleed into the happy memory, tearing holes in it until it disappears.
The partying is louder than ever. The bangs and heavy footsteps jar me each time I hear something new. Is it Dorian coming for me?
I’ve only seen him once, when he came into the room to appraise me. He’d stared for a long time, then one side of his harsh mouth kicked up into a smile. He’s an ugly, hard-faced man, and if he touches me, I’ll find a way to hurt him.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
I jerk in the restraints. Was that gunfire? Are they letting off party poppers or have they progressed to shooting at one another?
My bladder is full, and fear almost has me peeing myself. Maybe I should? If I pee myself, they won’t want to touch me, or, at least, not until after they make me wash up. It might give me a chance to get away.
The door bursts open.
“Boss, another one in here,” a deep, accented voice shouts out.
“He’s coming,” a different voice answers.
There’s a long beat, and then voice number two says, “Look at that ass. I claim this one.”
“Undo her restraints, and let’s take a proper look.”
Terror fills me. Who are these men? They don’t sound like they are part of Dorian’s team. They are talking about me as if they have no idea who I am.
Footsteps thud across the carpet. I’m freed from the padded restraints around my wrists. My arms throb in pain when the men roughly turn me over.
I find myself staring up at two giants. These men are huge. So big they look cartoonish.
“Holy fuck, she’s gorgeous.” The blond one grins at me.
Another man enters the room, and the two men immediately still.
They stop smirking and stand as if at attention.
The new man has an energy around him. Something dark and dangerous, it moves with him as he steps closer, like a forcefield of threat. His movements are easy, almost lazy, and that’s what makes him so scary. He’s like a big cat, prowling on the savanna, knowing he’s king of it all.
I stare at him, unable to look away as he approaches the men. This one is not cartoonishly pumped like these two goons, but he’s tall, and so broad, with muscles that fill his suit. His clothes scream money, and his dark hair shines as the lights hit it.
I’m incredibly aware of my almost naked state. I want to disappear and make myself small, but there’s nowhere to go, nowhere for me to hide.
“Mila is safe,” the new man says to the goons.
Goon One smiles. “Good news, boss. I suppose that means we are done here?”
Mila . They are here for Mila. Please, God, let this be the end of this horror show. Let me be set free.
“Except for the bit where we have to party on the yacht for a while and show that we’ve taken the spoils.” The boss sighs and scrubs his hand over his short beard. He hasn’t really looked at me yet. He’s glancing around the room, disdain written all over his striking features.
I don’t blame him; the room looks like something out of a bad taste guide. It’s as if someone vomited all the colors of the rainbow into the bits and pieces placed in it.
“Boss, can I have this one? She’s incredible.” The goon’s words deflate my hopes of being saved. They also snap the man out of his horrified reverie of the room.
The boss walks toward the bed and looks down at me.
I stare back at him as he continues to study me. His eyes widen a tiny bit, and his chest rises with his inhale.
For a moment, the world recedes. If I thought he had an aura from across the room, it’s nothing compared to being in the laser beam of his attention like this.
We watch one another as if we’re having a conversation.
It’s the oddest sensation, as if somehow, I know a deep, dark part of this man, but I cannot because I’ve never met him before.
The gag means I can’t speak, but I try to plead with my eyes.
Just let me go. Please let me go.
“Who is she ?” one of the big men asks, pointing at me but looking over his shoulder. “Is she your boss’ girl?”
Who is he talking to? I glance at the door to see my hated, skinny guard. He’s being held up only by the big arms around his middle, and he’s all floppy like a ragdoll. The guy holding him shakes him just like a doll too.
The men all turn to look at my half-dead captor as he’s given another shake. The big, beefy guy points at me again, brows raised. “ Who is she ?”
“She’s Dorian’s,” the man slurs. “She belongs to him. Cost him a lot. Almost a million in debts owed. She’s worth it. Untouched.”
A million? Dollars? A million!
I can’t breathe.
Hana gave me to Ari for a million dollars? Holy hell. They paid that because I’m a virgin? What the fuck?
All my years of being careful, of heeding Mum’s advice and being wary of men taunt me now. The one thing I protected is going to be my downfall.
The man holding ragdoll guy up takes a knife from a holster on his thigh and plunges it into his guts. I scream around the gag, and the faintness washing over me threatens to drag me under.
“Hey.” The man they call boss snaps his fingers at me, his voice deep and soothing. “Look at me. Breathe. You’re okay. No one is going to hurt you.”
His gaze holds mine again, and there’s such command in his tone and reassurance in his eyes, that amazingly, I do breathe. I pull air in through my nose and blow it out. He gives the slightest nod as his own inhale and exhale matches mine.
He has the slightest accent, but his English is excellent.
“Boss?” The giant of a man who spoke before points at me. “Now that Mila is safe, and the yacht is secured, can I take this one for some fun?” He leers at me. “That’s what the Pakhan wants, no?”
He reaches down and touches my arm, trailing his finger down it and the boss explodes.
He just snaps. One minute the giant is touching me, the next he’s against the wall with the bosses big hand wrapped around his throat. The giant’s eyes bug out of his head in shock and fear.
“No,” the boss snarls. “You can’t take any of them. Get a fucking grip, and stop dicking around or as God is my witness, I’ll choke the life right out of you. Don’t touch her again. She’s not yours to put your hands on.”
Relief floods through me, even as my mind tries to grapple with a man being gutted in front of me and this boss half throttling one of his men for touching me.
He lets go, and steps back and the giant coughs and winces, he doesn’t even look at me.
The man who was gutted isn’t dead yet and I want to scream and never stop at the horror all around me. He’s still gurgling on the floor, and I can’t bear to look.
“Let the hired and trafficked women go,” the boss commands. “Take them to shore, and call the number for Layna. She can find them to a safe place for the next few nights. Take Mila home. I want four men with her at all times until she’s safely returned to her father.”
The big brute’s face twists, but he nods. “Yes, boss.”
“You want me to take her too … to shore, I mean?” The second guy points at me, nervous as hell now his colleague just got half choked.
The boss looks to me, and his gaze travels the length of my body, then back to my face. There’s so many emotions flickering in the depths of his eyes that I can’t single one out. He studies my features and gently reaches to release the gag.
I start to speak immediately. Begging, crying, saying words that barely make sense. My brain can’t stop me. It spews out of me like the bile did earlier.
The man puts his finger to his lips and shushes me. “Don’t make me put it back on, little bluebird.”
Little bird? For a moment, I’m confused. Then I realize he’s talking about the tattoo of a bluebird on my shoulder.
I use all my self-control to stop talking. Ancient instincts that we so often ignore tell me this man isn’t going to hurt me so long as I do as he says and keep myself calm.
The man continues studying me. His gaze roams my face. Eventually, he speaks. “No. Leave her with me.”
Oh, God, what does that mean for me? This can’t be happening. I don’t get to go with the other girls? With Josie?
The man is handsome, devastatingly so, and he doesn’t seem to be an uncouth animal like Dorian and his friends, but I don’t care. I just want to be free.
He cocks his head as he watches me, and the light catches those sharp cheekbones and makes him look like a prince from a fairy tale. Except, while I might be a damsel in distress, I don’t think this guy is any kind of hero.
“Boss? You okay?” Brute Number One asks.
“Perfectly,” the boss answers. He doesn’t tear his gaze from me. Slowly, he reaches to me.
I flinch, but he only brushes a damp lock of hair from my face.
“Exquisite,” he breathes.
The men shuffle their feet behind him.
“Go.” The boss snaps his fingers. “Take the trafficked girls to the shore. Keep the girlfriends of the men here and take some pictures with them, but don’t touch them. It’s for show only.”
“God, you ruin all our fun,” Brute Two says, but his cheeky grin shows he’s only joking. It lightens the atmosphere between the men after all the violence and makes me think maybe they’re only messing around. Perhaps they aren’t as bad as they seem.
Na?ve hope blooms in my chest, but what do we have without hope? I must believe I can get out of this. This boss person has forbidden his men from touching the women who are to stay. Will he extend the same protection to me?
His gaze burns into me as his men leave the room, closing the door behind them.
“You’re astonishing,” he says as if talking to himself. “Where the hell did scum like Dorian find a gem like you?”
I don’t speak because I think it’s a rhetorical question.
Dear God, just who has my father married? Hana is related to Dorian, and this deadly and dangerous predator calls Dorian scum, so just how bad was Dorian? And Ari?
Another man steps into the room and drags the dead body out. I can’t bear to look.
“Dimitri,” he says to the boss. “You’ll need to take her somewhere else while we clean up these cabins. There are two rooms down a separate corridor that haven’t been used. Maybe put her in there while we get the wet work done and the cleaning carried out.”
Wet work? I know what that means. I need to get off this fucking boat.
“Can I go home?” I finally manage to say.
“Oh, no, little bird, you can’t.” The boss, Dimitri, watches me as if mesmerized. “You see, for now, you need to be seen as mine.”
He picks me up. His arms are big, and he’s so warm. He smells delicious, and I’m acutely aware I haven’t had a shower for days, and I probably smell of sick.
As we leave the room, he grabs a throw from the chair and covers me.
He kicks the door to another room open, and I glance around and see it is spotless. It’s plainer than the previous rooms I’ve been in too. There’s a narrow bed against one wall and no window. Not even one of those small, round ones, which kicks up my sense of claustrophobia.
Wanting to try to get my new captor on my side, I try to talk to him.
“Is Mila okay?” I ask. I barely know her, but she’s someone to him. “And her friend, Josie?”
He frowns down at me, and in this light, I can see the astonishing colors in his eyes. God, they are beautiful. Swirls of oceanic blues, greens, and a hint of gold in the flecks. The colors of the sea surrounded a tropical island.
“You know her?”
“We all made a promise to look after one another,” I say. It’s a lie, but right now I’ll use anything.
“Huh,” he replies, followed with, “Mila isn’t your concern now.”
“Let me go,” I whisper.
“Sorry, little blue. I can’t. Not quite yet.”
He places me gently on the bed and looks at me, letting his gaze take me in. He isn’t leering; he looks at me dispassionately now.
“You need cleaned up. Let’s get you ready for your starring role, little bird.”
No. No, no, no.
The enticing sliver of freedom I saw is snatched away again, and the cell doors clang shut.
Somehow I need to get out of here and find a way to get to Cade.
I can’t leave him in that house alone with my oblivious father and dangerous stepmother.
I look at the man who holds my future in his hands, and I wonder.
How can I get him to help me? Because even if he let me go, I’d be in danger, and so would Cade.
This man hates Dorian, and I hate Hana, and perhaps, just possibly, we could find common ground.
In order to make this work, I need to keep calm, focus, and not panic.
There must be a way out of this.
I just need to dig deep and find my strength and bravery.
I look up at my captor and force myself to smile.