I licked my lips and wrapped my fingers around the edge of the blanket, trying not to let my excitement show. “Okay. Where’s the phone?”
Luc’s eyes narrowed. “Did I use the word phone? No phone.”
My chest seized, and I sat up before I could stop myself. “But—”
“No phone, Natalie. Do I look stupid?”
The bite in his voice caused me to ease back into the pillows, and I gripped the blanket tighter in my hands, pulling it up higher against my chest, remembering the time he’d lost his temper in Venice. I’d stupidly thought I could help him then instead of realizing I knew very little about his limits. I wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice.
He breathed deeply, and I watched as he worked to rein in his temper. All it did was solidify my own determination to get my hands on a phone.
He pulled a small handheld recording device from his pocket and held it out for me. “All you need to do is talk into this and say exactly what I told you to say. I’ll leave it on her voice mail.”
Panic surged inside me. “My mom won’t buy it. She’ll just try to call me back if I leave a message. She’s a talker, and she’ll want details. It would be better if I just called her mysel—”
“You are not calling her or anyone.”
My mouth snapped closed as I stared up at him. He didn’t make any move toward me, but his clipped words and hard voice told me I wasn’t going to win this battle.
Tension crackled between us. A tension that made me want to scratch his eyes out then comfort him… which made no fucking sense at all.
My irritation—with him, with me, with everything—only shot higher.
“Look.” He raked a hand through his thick hair. “I’ll explain this simply so you don’t misunderstand. I cleaned your house before we left Idaho. Anyone who walks into your place isn’t going to see a struggle or a fight or any evidence of what happened there. No one knows where the piece of shit who attacked you is, and no one’s looking for you except your mother. And she’s only irritated you haven’t bothered to call her back. The last time you spoke to her, you told her you were meeting up with some of Elena’s friends in New York. Talk into this recorder as if you’re leaving your mother a phone message. Tell her you met someone, that you’re taking a long vacation, and that you’ll be out of the country without cell service for a while. That will appease her. That will keep her from drawing unwanted attention her way. It’s as simple as that.”
Several things hit me at once. He’d disposed of that dead body in my house. He’d cleaned the scene so no cops could trace anything back to him. And he’d either been listening in on my phone conversations for a good long time, or he had my cell phone now and had listened to the voice mails from my mother.
Since I’d left my cell phone in Italy, and since I was sure finding my phone was how he’d known I’d left Tuscany the night everything between us had crumbled, my money was on the latter. But his last comment was the one that hit me hardest. It was the one that caused the air to hitch in my lungs and the ground to feel as if it moved beneath me.
“That will keep her from drawing unwanted attention her way.”
Fear twisted in my gut. A new fear I didn’t want him to see. It was one thing for his so-called House to come after me because of what I’d witnessed, but… Oh, God… It was a completely different situation altogether if they targeted my mother, who was completely innocent.
I reached for the recorder with shaky fingers, even though I tried to keep them steady. “She doesn’t know anything, Luc. This has nothing to do with her. You can’t—”
“I know she doesn’t,” he said calmly, watching me closely as he let go of the recorder and I pulled it close to my chest. “But we need to ensure she doesn’t do anything to make them think otherwise. The best thing you can do to help her is leave her a message that doesn’t raise suspicion.”
I wasn’t willing to fight him on this. I didn’t have the strength. It took five tries, but I finally left a message in what I hoped was a clear and normal voice.
When I handed the recorder back to him, he nodded, telling me it was good enough. But in his stormy eyes, I didn’t see satisfaction or even victory. I saw wariness and what looked like a flicker of disgust.
He’d once told me he liked when I challenged him, when I stood up to him. I wasn’t willing to defy him when it came to the safety of my mother, and clearly, that repelled him.
I didn’t need or want his approval but seeing that look in his eyes cut me to the quick just the same.
I glanced down at the comforter as he tucked the voice recorder in his back pocket.
I should be relieved by that knowledge. I should be happy he was repulsed by me in any way. It meant he’d stay away from me here on this island. But I wasn’t. I felt… rejected in a way that threw me more than I thought possible.
He rounded the foot of the bed without glancing my way. “We’ll talk more later. Right now, I have to get back outside to help Haych clean up from the storm.”
My gaze shot up. “Storm?”
“The one that hit us two nights ago. I heard on the wire it’s been upgraded to a category two cyclone, but I don’t think it was that strong when it hit us. It didn’t do any structural damage, but we’ve got trees down all over the island.”
My mind spun with useless facts I’d learned in college. Hurricanes in the South Pacific were called cyclones. Holy shit. We’d been hit by a hurricane, yet I still didn’t remember it—wind, yes, a little rain, but no big storm.
Shocked, I watched as he reached for the door handle and noticed what I’d missed earlier. Yes, he was wearing worn jeans, work boots, and a gray T-shirt marked with dirt that stretched seductively across his wide shoulders and showed off his muscular, dirt-streaked arms, but those muscles sagged at the shoulders, and exhaustion seemed to hang over him like a cloud.
He tugged the door open. “I’m just glad I found you before the full force of the cyclone hit us.”
Reality slammed into my chest, distracting me all over again. A reality that threw me even more than the shock of learning I’d completely missed a freakin’ cyclone.
Luc hadn’t just bandaged my leg and saved me from some kind of infection. He’d rescued me from that storm as well.
I stared at him from the bed, more unsure than ever about what was going on here. Why was he saving me? Why was I even here? If I was such a threat to his family, why hadn’t he killed me already and extricated me from his life?
He stopped with the door open a foot. Stared out into the hall. Seemed to be on the verge of saying something. I waited, torn between needing to know what he was thinking and wanting to hide.
“You have free rein of the island,” he finally said, still not turning to look at me. “Anywhere you want to go.” He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck in a way that made me think he was nervous. Which was absolutely ridiculous, because Luciano Salvatici was never nervous. “I didn’t tell you about the storm the other day when you left here because I thought it was going to miss us. I was wrong. Cyclones are rare this time of year, but not completely unheard of. If I get news any other weather’s moving in, I’ll let you know.”
They weren’t the words I’d hoped to hear. At this point, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to hear, but I knew instantly that wasn’t it. His little announcement made it sound as if we’d be here a good long while.
He dropped his hand on a sigh before I could think of a way to ask about his plan without angering him all over again. “There are four of us on the island. In addition to you and me, Haych maintains the grounds, and Sela takes care of the house. I think you already met Sela. I’ll introduce you to Haych when you’re feeling better. They both have their own homes about a half mile from here.”
My stomach instantly tightened, and a familiar anger pulsed inside me, distracting me from my questions.
I didn’t really care who Haych was. All I could focus on was the name Sela. She had to be the wom
an I’d talked to when I’d first awoken. The one with the leopard-print tattoo. The one who was clearly his kitten.
My gaze shot to the word Slave tattooed into my left ring finger. If he wasn’t planning on killing me, and he already had a kitten on this island, then what the hell did he need me for?
An all-new understanding hit me hard, morphing my anger to a rolling nausea that sent bile sliding up my throat, especially when I remembered the disgust in his eyes earlier. If I wasn’t here for him, it was possible I was here for someone else. Or so he could turn me into a sex kitten he could ship back to his family.
“Don’t, Natalie.”
I froze at the sound of Luc’s low voice above me, and a whisper of unease shot through me at the thought I might have said the words aloud.
“I know what you’re thinking,” he said calmly—too calmly.
My gaze lifted. He’d let go of the door and was standing on the right side of my bed, close enough to touch if I reached out. Close enough for him to grab me if I tried to run. And he was staring right at me, his stormy eyes as intense and focused as I’d ever seen them.
“You’re wrong,” he said softly, more softly than I expected. “You’re safe here on this island. No one knows you’re here. No one’s going to find you. I realize it’s the last thing you want to do right now, but I need you to trust me on that. I need you to believe me.”
My pulse picked up speed, and my skin tingled. I didn’t want to trust him. I just wanted to get away from him. But the hint of desperation I heard in his voice tugged at my heart, and I couldn’t stop from feeling that connection in the center of my soul that I’d felt in Italy that first time he’d really looked at me in the living room of his suite.
Some part of me still loved him. I couldn’t deny it. Even though I was angry with him, even though I didn’t trust him, my heart still fluttered when he said my name, and butterflies took flight in my belly each time our eyes met.
I wished I’d never learned the truth about him. I wished I hadn’t discovered his family secrets. But even as the thoughts hit, I knew I didn’t really want those things.
I couldn’t hide from reality. I couldn’t go on being naïve. I wouldn’t be the submissive, ignorant girl he’d clearly brought me here to be, because if I was, if I caved and ignored everything he’d done to me, I’d lose touch of the strong, independent woman I was inside. And I wasn’t willing to lose touch with her. I’d fight till my last breath to hold on to my independence.
Disappointment flashed over his features just before he looked down at the mattress. Seconds later, he stepped back from the bed and moved for the open door without looking at me again. “I’ll check in on you later. Sela should be by with food in a few minutes.”
The door clicked closed behind him, echoing like cannon fire in my ears. I wanted to be relieved he was gone. I wanted to be proud that I’d found a way to stand up to him in spite of everything else. But alone, as the fight slipped out of me, all I felt was helpless.
My eyes burned, and I blinked rapidly to hold back tears I did not want to let fall. Glancing around the room, I searched for anything to focus on besides how shitty I felt inside.
I spotted a plush couch and side chair forming a sitting area across the room, and my eyes hovered on a lamp and end table, then shifted to a bouquet of flowers on the dresser, blocking my reflection in the mirror.
Heliconia, bird of paradise, orchids, and some kind of red flowers that looked like cone-shaped brushes dipped in candy-apple-red paint on long stalks stared back at me. As I took in the gorgeous arrangement, my memory skipped back to opening my eyes and seeing Luc standing in front of that splash of color, turning toward my bed as he wiped his hands on his filthy jeans, and stepping toward me.
My heart pinched, but I called myself ten kinds of stupid for the reaction, averted my gaze from the arrangement, and swung my legs over the side of the bed. A gift of persuasion, obviously. I was too smart to be swayed by exotic flowers. I was still a prisoner no matter how much he wanted me to believe otherwise, and the only thing that mattered now was getting off this damn island and as far from him as possible.
Pushing to my feet, I winced at the pain shooting through my left leg and reached for the mattress so I wouldn’t fall. Luc was right. I was weak and probably needed another day to rest from whatever the infection had done to me, but his advice was the last I wanted to listen to.
I held still until I felt steady, then slowly hobbled my way across the room. After finding the bathroom and flipping on the light, I used the facilities, ignoring my pale reflection in the mirror. I didn’t need to see I looked like hell—I felt it—but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. I found a toothbrush in the drawer, brushed my teeth, ran water over my face, then tied my unruly curls in a knot on the top of my head.
Limping back into the bedroom, I located the closet and pulled the doors open. A handful of sundresses hung from the hangers, and a collection of shoes, ranging from flip-flops to heels, were arranged on the floor.
Scowling, I grabbed the closest pair of flip-flops, slammed the closet closed on the sexy dresses he clearly wanted me to wear, then limped to the dresser. Thankfully, the drawers were filled with basic necessities I didn’t mind wearing—tanks, cotton shorts, and undergarments.
My stomach tightened with a mixture of anger and disgust and, yes, even pleasure, at the dainty lace bras and panties in the top drawer. Picking the least sexy ones I could find, I slammed the drawer shut and found a red cotton tank and black shorts.
I really needed a shower, but I needed out of this room more, so I ignored how sticky my skin felt and told myself if I stank, even better. Maybe if I totally let myself go Luc would be anxious to get rid of me. Heck, if I played this right, he might kick me off the island himself.
That thought pushed my depression even lower, something that only made me feel worse. Grinding my teeth, I shoved my feet into the flip-flops and shuffled toward the door.
Just before I could reach for the handle, the door pushed open, and I stumbled back.
“Oh, you’re awake.” A pretty young woman with sleek blonde hair to the middle of her back smiled as she stepped around me and into the room. In her hands, she carried a tray of food. “I bet you were on your way to find this.”
She wore faded denim cutoffs, a pale pink, loose-fitting tank, and cute white slip-on sneakers. And she moved like a dancer—all long limbs and graceful motions. Her slight accent—a lot like Luc’s—echoed in the room as she leaned forward to set the tray on the low coffee table, her shiny straight hair falling over her shoulders, revealing the leopard-print tattoo I’d seen the other day, telling me exactly who she was.
My jaw instantly clenched, and the muscles in my back tightened.
“I’m Sela.” She straightened, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and smiled again. “We didn’t get to meet before. I take care of the house for Luc. Do you like your room?” She glanced over the furnishings, then looked back at me. “I decorated it myself. Well, except for the flowers. Luc brought those. Aren’t they gorgeous?”
I didn’t give a rip about the flowers anymore. Bile pushed up my throat because I did not need to know she’d decorated this room herself. The basic decency my mother had beat into me as a child, though, kept me from responding with a bitchy retort. “The room is fine,” I managed from between clenched teeth.
Her smile wobbled. She glanced down at her hands, then looked at the tray of food. “Well, I wasn’t sure what you’d feel like eating so I made you some soup and crackers. Should be light enough on your stomach. If there’s anything else you want or need, just ask. I’m here to serve.”
Her last sentence only made that sickness swirl faster in my belly. Images of those women I’d seen in that ritual in Tuscany ricocheted through my mind. Images of women with the same kinds of tattoos as this girl, sexually serving men in black capes and white bauta masks. Before I could stop it, visions of this girl serving Luc like that flashed behind my eyes.
I slammed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to picture that. Didn’t want to think of Luc at all. Crossing my arms over my chest, I stared down at the floor, unable to look at this girl a second longer.
I was jealous, and that realization only pissed me off more. I didn’t even want Luc any longer. He could fuck whomever he chose. So why did I care?
Bastard.
“I’m sure you’re still tired. I’ll, uh, just let you get back to resting.”
She stepped past me into the hall. I tried like hell not to look after her, but couldn’t stop myself from turning.
She was everything I wasn’t—tall, exotic, slim in all the places I was curvy—and I could tell from the way she moved that she’d once been a model. The kind of model I’d watched fall all over Luc at those fashion parties in Rome. I hated her even more because of that. Hated her even though I told myself that kind of hate wasn’t worth the energy.
When she turned the corner and disappeared from view, I glanced back at the food she’d left me, and my mood sank even lower.
I’d read what beta kitten slaves went through—the Monarch mind-control techniques their handlers used to train them, the abuse they often suffered to mix pleasure with pain and disassociate their minds so they could let go of their inhibitions—and I knew I should feel sorry for the girl because she’d probably been through a hell I couldn’t imagine. But I didn’t want to feel anything for her. I didn’t even want to see her. All she did was make me think of Luc.
Needing air, I headed for the sliding door in my room that opened to a wide deck. I didn’t have any hope I’d find a way to escape today, but with Luc preoccupied, I could use the time to explore and come up with a plan.
Warm, humid air surrounded me as I stepped outside and turned to my right. The deck spread out across one whole side of the house, and several steps dropped down to the pool and white-sand beach edged by towering palms.
The Betrayal: House of Sin - Book Three Page 5