Escape From Paradise (23 page)

Not saying a word, I turned for the showers to wash myself as we were expected to do after every encounter with a patron.

Well, what do you know? All three of them freaking followed me in.

“So, chica?” Jin said in Spanish, a hand on her silk-clad waist. “Was he good?”

I had to be careful. Attraction was fine, but I couldn’t imagine Marco would approve of me crushing on a patron. Emotions were off limits. But I could talk about the sex.

“Sí,” I answered, closing my eyes to go under the spray of water. I heard Jin giggle with glee.

“But he didn’t want you to stay the night,” Josef said, getting right to the heart of it. Ouch. He was watching me with his arms crossed and I could practically feel the waves of disapproval coming off him.

Perla
tsked
. “He’s an artist. He probably sent her away so he could paint.” She smiled at me and left the bathrooms, pulling a grinning Jin alongside her.

I couldn’t look at Josef, and after a minute of my silence he finally left me alone. Why did he have to know me so well? Tonight was my first time in all my days at the villa that I was sad to be let go by a patron, and Josef knew it. It was dumb of me. I shouldn’t have felt that way for any man who came through these doors, but after so long of feeling nothing, I couldn’t help but grab ahold of this sensation, letting it grow. I had so little. What would it hurt?

He couldn’t even force himself to paint after the mind fuck that was his time with Angela. Sending her away had been a spontaneous decision that he regretted now. Colin climbed into the shower and wondered if Marco had another man for Angela to be with tonight since he hadn’t asked her to stay. He shut his eyes tight and wanted to punch the tiled walls at the thought of her being forced into another bed after being with him.

Damn it all to hell. He should have told her to stay. But then…yeah. He’d be expected to take her again and again. And he’d want to. No doubt she thought he was a bloomin’ tosser after the stunt he’d pulled under the sheets tonight.

Although she seemed to enjoy it.

Colin caught his cock in his hand under the stream of water and willed it not to get hard again at the thought of her orgasming beneath him—her nails digging into his lower back and how she rubbed herself, making all those gorgeous fucking sounds. If she’d thought he was strange for not fucking her, she rolled with it, using his body for her pleasure. Made Colin wonder what kind of crazy shite she’d seen…he stopped his thoughts right there.

He was going to get her out of here. That’s all that mattered. And he’d do whatever it took to accomplish that.

Colin needed to earn the trust of Marco Ruiz. He was making good progress, but he wanted to completely win the man over.

He dressed in shorts and a Spanish style button up shirt, and left his room, hoping Marco would be out. Colin followed the scent of acrid cigar smoke out to the veranda where Marco sat with two other men in the open air, flanked by three bodyguards. They looked to be talking business, so Colin steered clear, deciding to take a walk through the warm night instead.

“Señor Douglas,” he heard called behind him. “Won’t you join us?”

Marco waved him over with a cigar in hand, so Colin went.

He sat in the offered chair and accepted the cigar Marco held out to him. A Cuban.

“Señor, I’d like you to meet two of my business associates, Juan and Franco.”

Colin nodded to the men, who stared at him a moment before nodding back, unsmiling.

Ah, hard arses.

Marco poured him a shot from the Patron bottle on the table, and Colin thanked him, tequila in one hand, lit cigar in the other.

“We were just discussing the subject of recreational drugs, internationally, which makes me curious. Are the preferences much difference in the UK than Spain?”

Colin sipped his drink and shook his head. “Same across the board, Señor. Biggest problem in the UK right now for sellers is all these wanker kids trying to make their own shite and sell it independently. So many chemicals available. Big dealers try to squash the wee lads as they come on the scene, and prices have gone down a bit to accommodate. But as far as the art world goes, the preference is the same there and here. Cocaine.” He threw back the rest of his shot.

All three men nodded.

“And the human trade?” Marco asked, tapping his cigar on a stone tray. His voice sounded careful. Colin had opted for openness with the man so far, and it had benefited him, so he decided to keep to that route.

“To be honest, Señor, prostitution and sex slavery are extremely taboo in the UK, so they aren’t spoken of often, even among the drug lords. I’m certain it’s present, but I haven’t been made privy.”

Marco hadn’t looked at him. The man kept his eyes trained on the cigar. Colin felt his two associates and the three bodyguards tensing, so he tensed as well, preparing himself for anything.

“So then, this is your first experience?” Marco asked.

“Aye.” Colin rolled the cigar between his fingers and took a single puff, readying himself to play this game. He let the air fill his mouth before he blew it out slowly. “And I want to thank you for the gift. You’re a generous man.”

Marco looked at him now. “You enjoyed her?”

“Very much.”

“And she’s the first slave you’ve ever had?”

Colin nodded, cigar at his lips again.

“Fascinating. Tell me, Señor Douglas…how would you say this experience differs from being with free women?”

What was this? Was Colin on a fucking talk show? No, he knew what this was. He wanted Colin to admit how much better this was for him. He wanted to make sure Colin left the villa sold to the idea of slavery. And Colin would tell him exactly what he wanted, but his gut would hate it. Because the words would be far too close to the truth.

He was more like these men than he wanted to admit. This place had stirred up darkness in him. Darkness that felt good. Darkness that nobody had any business embracing, especially him.

“There is no comparison, Señor Ruiz. The past two evenings have been…beyond brilliant. The girl, Angel, was ideal in every way and she expected nothing of me afterward. It was a fucking relief to be able to tell her to leave and having her oblige without getting an earful or dealing with tears. I fucking hate tears.”

Marco laughed and smacked his knee, cigar ash falling onto his dark trousered leg. He pointed a finger at Colin as if he’d hit the nail on the head. The other men laughed, as well. Fucking minions. He wondered what their job was for Marco. Drug pushers? Or did they buy and sell humans on the underground market? Colin smoked his cigar, his stomach churning.

Eventually Marco dismissed his two business associates and the two of them sat there together. Colin downed two more shots until his nerves settled, but he was still highly aware of his surroundings and where the bodyguards’ hands and guns were at all times. Marco met him shot for shot, and even had another.

“It takes a strong man, Señor Douglas, to go against the puritanical rules of society. A man who knows what he wants and knows he deserves it.” Marco crushed his cigar and folded his hands over his stomach. “People act as if slavery is a new concept, but it has been around as long as people have lived. It has always been a part of the natural hierarchy of life, just as men have ruled over women. It is the way of things, and our modern societies try to fight against that, making chaos out of something simple.”

Colin nodded as if contemplating those primitive words. He poured both of them another drink, and they clinked the small glasses, both sipping.

“Mind you, I don’t see eye to eye with every slave owner,” Marco said. “I believe slaves should be maintained with the upmost care. They are a valuable commodity. A healthy, satisfied slave is a loyal slave.”

“I commend you for your way of thinking.”

“Gracias. I can see why the masses are against slavery. They’ve seen the very worst of it displayed in documentaries and news reports. But is there a documentary for how my slaves were saved from unfortunate circumstances? I’ve taken them in like strays on the brink of death, and given them good lives here.”

Tequila had loosened Marco’s tongue. His eyes were bright. Full of zeal. And Colin stared back with just as much ardor, because transitioning a human from a terrible life into a life of luxurious slavery did not make their lives “good.” Not to mention the bastard forgot to account for the one slave who hadn’t come from unfortunate circumstances.

Marco sat back, apparently realizing he’d gotten himself worked up, and chuckled. He ran a hand down his mustache.

“The world is so quick to judge. But send any man to my home and let him experience the natural rightness of it. Men come here with stresses and anxieties that the world piles on their backs, and when they leave they are as they should be: empowered. Relaxed. Self-assured.”

“Exactly.” Colin finished his last drink. He had a buzz now, so he wouldn’t drink more.

Marco’s head inclined toward Colin’s forearm, where his tattoo showed:

“Do you mind if I ask what it says?”

“Not at all. It’s a Scottish Gaelic proverb.
It is better to try than to hope
.”

“Ah, sí. A man of action rather than words. I like that.” Marco grinned.

Colin snuffed out his cigar. “I owe you many thanks already, Señor, and my week has only just begun.”

The two men stood and clasped hands.

“I hope you’ll join us for breakfast in the morning, Señor Douglas. We’ll eat right here, weather permitting. And if work calls your attention, I will have breakfast sent to your room.”

“You are a Godsend,” Colin said, inclining his head, and with that the two men parted for the night.

That went well
, Colin thought. He couldn’t say getting in the mind of a madman was a favorite past time, but he did feel accomplished that Marco Ruiz had confided in him. He’d moved his pawn one step closer, though how he’d get the girl out of this fucking place was still the question of the hour. And he’d sure as hell better figure it out soon.

I hadn’t been outdoors in two years. Of all the things I’d been denied in my time at the villa, the right to be outside saddened me most. My body became accustomed to less food—I’d even stopped craving things I couldn’t eat, such as pizza and Dove bars, because I knew I’d never have them again. I’d numbed myself to the sexual encounters, and took affection in the small, fleeting doses they came to me. My body and mind had adjusted to all circumstances out of necessity. But I hated not being able to go outside. Especially since I was the only one denied that simple privilege.