“I got a ride after you.” He lugged a bag over his shoulder, moving down the aisles to fall into a chair in front of mine, then turned to look over the headrest. “Not letting you deal with that cunt on your own.”
“I wanted you to take care of my investments.” My teeth ground together, turning my words to dust. “You can’t do that if you’re not there, dipshit.”
“Arbi has it under control. They’ll be fine. The girls know their schedule for Euphoria. Jealousy will help prepare them. You have a loyal, capable team, Sinclair. They can handle us gone for a few days.”
“That wasn’t the god. Damn. Point.”
Eleanor.
She was still too new. Too flighty. Too aware of her imprisonment.
Without a daily reminder that there was no chance of escape…it would become a temptation too great to ignore.
I’d give her forty-eight hours before she attempted a freedom expedition.
She’d leave.
She’d fail.
And I wouldn’t be there to save her.
Or to drag her back.
Chapter Eight
FATE HAD BEEN THE reason for my kidnapping and captivity. An awful version of karma that ensured I’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. However, serendipity gave me a chance at freedom.
A perfectly choreographed moment that had no other explanation for its occurrence than divine intervention.
I’d been brought here because I’d been easy, silly prey. But I would leave because I’d grown wise and brave. I didn’t want to be a girl who had erotic dreams about her new lord and master. Who allowed her days to be filled with pampered promise. To forget she had a life before she’d become someone else’s.
I had to be honest with myself: I had a very limited amount of time to flee. Limited time before I lost myself, lost to him, lost to servitude.
And that time was already running out.
Every day, I grew more and more lulled by this existence he offered.
Every night, I curled up in a bed that’d become familiar, welcomed…home.
Stay any longer, and I’d forget that I wasn’t here of my own free will. I’d forget how I was snatched, degraded, traded, and delivered. I’d accept. I’d enjoy. I’d fall in love with the sand, the palms, the tiny parrots…and even…possibly…Sullivan Sinclair himself.
The veil between love and hate constantly tore in the battle of romance. And that thought began a wormhole of self-reflection, forcing me to admit that sometimes…for microseconds of connection, when Sully stared at me, kissed me, and held me firm, my hate would stray into affection. My belly would flutter. Butterflies would become fireflies. Fireflies became moths. Moths became warnings clawing at my heart.
He blurred right and wrong.
He smudged yes and no.
He dazzled my senses until I didn’t trust myself anymore.
He was the real danger here.
And I was in danger of being the worst kind of idiot.
The stupidest type of girl.
I was in danger of actually liking him. Of not just lusting but liking. Of finding out his secrets. Of wanting more between us than owner and possession.
No.
It can’t happen.
I refuse!
My silent shouts were my one saving grace, delivering a single opportunity to escape.
I shot from my bed at four in the morning, my blood popping with fury and fear.
I couldn’t lie there and drown beneath such truth anymore. I needed to be outside. To breathe fresh air. To finally come up with a concrete solution to escape.
Wrapping a silk dressing gown with embroidered silver lilies around me, I slipped from my villa and headed down the sandy path. The lanterns still flickered with light, leading me through the darkness toward the main beach.
There, I plopped onto the sand beside the same bush where I’d eavesdropped on the goddesses and brought my knees up to rest my chin on.
The sun hadn’t made an appearance yet, but the stars slowly faded, yawning with fatigue, wrapping themselves up with swathes of midnight. No sea breeze. No waves licking. Just utter, bone-deep silence.
The quietness had a weight, heavy like a knitted blanket, cascading over my shoulders with comfort.
Where the stars twinkled was the direction of my escape.
Out there to the horizon where faint island lights flickered.
So near…yet so far.
Jewelled lacquered kayaks had been hauled higher up the sugary beach, resting on their sides with their oars speared into their belly.
I could take one of those right now.
I could slip it into the sea, push off the shore, and paddle into the vastness.
But without a map, I would get lost. Without food, I would starve. Without water, I would die. Besides, Sully would notice I was missing within an hour. He’d chase me down and bring me back. He’d punish me—how I didn’t know—but an infraction like that wouldn’t go without reprimand.
I sighed heavily. My chin dug into my knees, tiny granules of sand sticking to my legs.
Perhaps, I’d done something bad in a previous life and this was my penance. Maybe, I’d been selfish without realising it or cruel without noticing, and the powers of the universe decided to make me pay.
But at least, I’d stayed true to my pact not to give in. Every night I fell asleep with my hand-drawn map clutched tight and every scenario of escape rushing from consciousness to dream world.
I’d toyed with every semi-sane idea for freedom: breaking into Sully’s office to use his phone and call my parents, befriending the pilots to fly me home, or even trying to switch places with a goddess on the day she was released (if Sully actually did let us go after four years…it could’ve been a lie).
When the sane ideas didn’t offer help, I’d turned to insane instead: making Sully fall in love with me, so he’d realise keeping me prisoner wasn’t the best way to treat his soul-mate, making Calvin fall in love with me so he’d kill Sully and free me, or telling a guest my name and begging them to pack me in their suitcase when they flew away.
As I sat on such a pristine beach in the early hours of dawn, a part of me felt guilty for bemoaning my captivity. As far as slavery went, I knew I had it easy.
I wasn’t minutely molested, physically beaten, or psychologically broken. I had the best food I’d ever tasted, the comfiest bed I’d ever slept in, and the prettiest jail cell ever created.
Sully’s islands were second to none.
I could travel the world with Scott forever and never find such heaven again.
So yes, the guilt came on strong when tears trickled down my cheeks at my inability to leave.
Any girl in that dark hovel in Mexico would gladly trade places with me. I had no doubt about that. That girl Tess was probably dead by now. Raped by her owner, tormented until she broke, and then tossed in a shallow grave to make room for the next purchased toy.
Not for the first time, I thanked everything celestial that I hadn’t been trafficked to such a man. However, Sully’s monstrous rule came in other ways—he granted paradise, ensured his goddesses had everything their heart desired, kept us healthy, content, and fed us an elixir that turned our one unavoidable task into pleasure.
That was his talent at control.
His effortless skill at dominion.
It wasn’t a fist or gun keeping us in line…it was the serenity, the safety, the endless idyllic sunny days where we could live peacefully, swim, indulge, laugh with fellow girls, and accept that four years wasn’t so bad in the scheme of a life.