Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 81810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81810 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 409(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 273(@300wpm)
Two more doors led to rooms that were closed, but the openness and simplicity of the lounge did its best to relax me, even as my instincts stayed on high alert.
What was this place?
The entire villa could’ve been feminine, if it wasn’t for the man seated within the centre. A man who could cover himself in pearls and prisms and still not be able to reflect anything than what he was.
Merciless and undeniably masculine.
He flicked a pen over his knuckles, watching me in a silent, lethal way.
My stomach coiled, blending fear with unwanted need.
He didn’t need to purchase women to earn every sexual favour he desired. Anyone—single and sane—would struggle not to be entranced by him.
If we’d met under different circumstances, I would’ve expected him to be untouchable by people like me. People of a middle-class persuasion. He didn’t need to buy me to say he had money. It was obvious he had mountains and skyscrapers of the stuff. He bled wealth. He breathed affluence. He was the epitome of abundance—abundant physical assets, monetary riches, and a treasure chest of private islands.
I didn’t move.
He didn’t speak.
We never looked away from each other.
I stood at the foot of his desk while he reigned on his throne. A lowly servant at court waiting for her liege’s command.
I hated the way he made me feel.
I despised the heat creeping through my veins.
But…I had to admit.
I’d hated the traffickers in Mexico.
I’d nursed my hate like a glowing ember, feeding it twigs of injustice to stay aflame, tossing a few dried leaves of righteousness for fuel.
But this man?
This man threatened to turn that flickering coal into a furnace.
One look from him and my heartbeat relocated into every extremity, and my temperature increased a thousand degrees.
I detested him.
But I was drawn to him.
There was something…something ruthless and savage about him. Something instinctual that sensed predator from prey and firmly put him in the category of dangerous.
But beneath that savage suaveness, something smoothed the merciless edges, granting a strange kind of enigma.
Cold and hot.
Immune and unprotected.
He wasn’t as invincible as he appeared.
Find his weaknesses.
Use them.
Abuse them.
Get free.
“What is your name?” he asked quietly. Too quietly.
I narrowed my eyes, ignoring my aches and bruises. “I already gave my name to them. They didn’t pass on that information?”
He let the pen fall from his knuckles. It clattered against the desk, making me jump. “No. We’re not in the habit of gossip.”
“My name is not gossip.”
“Your name is no longer yours.”
I stepped closer to his desk, purely because every part of me wanted to run in the opposite direction. “My name is and always will be mine. No matter if you think you can own me. No matter that you paid some bastard his fee. I am a living, breathing creature, and you cannot—”
“Enough.” He swiped his hand through the air, silencing me. “I’ll go first, shall I? My name is Sully Sinclair. I don’t care what you call me inside that overzealous mind of yours, but while you serve on my island, you will address me with respect.”
“While I serve you?” My lips pulled back in a snarl. “And what does that job entail exactly?”
His lips spread into a sinister smile. “Fucking, of course. Lots and lots of fucking.” Dropping his stare, he deliberately undressed me with his eyes. My nipples pebbled as he studied my breasts. My skin goosebumped as he trailed down my belly to my core and beyond.
It didn’t matter I wore a sack-shaped jumper. It didn’t matter I had underwear on.
I was naked.
Well and truly stripped to my barest of forms, and my hatred reached a whole new level. I was tired, jet-lagged, strung out, and in pain. I missed Scott, my parents, and my carefree, untouched life. To be told that I’d been reduced to a whore—worse than a whore—an unpaid sexual slave…yeah, I reached my shaky threshold.
“I will never fuck you. You’ll have to kill me.”
He laughed under his breath, rich and deep. “Who said anything about fucking me?” His eyebrows shaded icy blue eyes. “I’m the proprietor of this paradise. You work for me to entertain my high-paying guests.” He stood, moving slowly around his desk toward me.
I wished I hadn’t taken off my knee-high socks in the helicopter. I could’ve used one to strangle him.
“My clients range from young to old, handsome to obese, generous to monstrous. They all come here for one purpose.” He stopped within touching distance but kept his hands to himself. “That purpose is to fuck. To let their darker desires come out to play. To do things to you that they would never do to their wives.”
I hid my shudder. “Why don’t they pay someone, like normal people?”
“Pay?” His eyebrow shot up. “Oh, they do pay. They pay me very well indeed.”
“I mean, why don’t they just hire a prostitute? A woman who actually gets to keep what she earns and not someone like you who buys unwilling trafficked women.”