Samuel seemed stricken. “My word means everything.”
“To you, maybe.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay. What would make you most comfortable? Either way you must know that you’re away from civilization. I understand your trepidation, but please know that there’s nothing much I can do about it. If I had met you in the city, Philip would know.”
Amara’s mouth dropped. “Josh said Philip set this up.”
Samuel chuckled as he began to walk away. “Would you like a glass of wine?”
Amara let out a breath and followed him. What was she supposed to do? Run away?
“I have to get back to New York,” she said, suddenly remembering her father’s phone call.
Sam stopped walking and turned to her. “How soon?”
“As soon as possible. My mom’s sick.”
He offered her a sad smile. “I’m sorry to hear that. I lost mine a few years ago. She was old and sick for many years, but it still hurts. A mother is always a mother.”
Amara felt tears building in her eyes so she looked away. “What do you want to talk to me about?” she whispered, clearing her throat.
“Please sit,” Samuel said, signaling the couch beside them.
The room was big, with a wall of windows, but it still managed to have a homey feel to it. The backyard was endless land, filled with fruit trees. Amara could see a blonde woman wearing a long, loose dress far into the distance. She looked like she was picking something from the trees.
“That’s my sister,” Samuel said, nodding toward her. “She always comes to bother me when I’m in town.”
It made Amara feel a little more at ease to know that, so she finally sat down. Samuel sat across from her, setting an empty wine glass on the table beside the bottle.
“I need to speak to you about a couple of things,” he said, rubbing his forehead with his fingers as if to ease a headache. “I know Philip hasn’t told you yet, but you’re a valuable asset to him. When you volunteered yourself all those years ago, Philip thought he would just have you working at one of his companies with no pay. Mostly out of spite to your father.”
“He mentioned Vivienne’s name even then. He knew what he wanted to do with me,” Amara said.
Samuel smiled, but shook his head. “Philip is a bit of a collector. I’m sure you’ve seen around his office, around Méchant, and even the residence. He collects women the way he collects artwork. You’re exotic, so he feels like he should put you in his collection... but the thing is this, Amara,” Samuel said, finally using her name. “He’s had ten girls that look like you. Well, similar enough. He didn’t need you before. He collected you when he needed you, because you are his last resort.”
Her heart hammered. “For what?” she whispered.
Samuel ignored her and continued. “Philip and I, we’ve always done odd jobs. We’re fixers. That’s how we started anyway. We met early on, wanted to make money —make a name but mainly make money—so we took these jobs as they were thrown our way. We took one in Iran once, many years ago. There we met a man by the name of Andon Abu. You’ve heard of him, yes?” He paused.
Amara nodded slowly, mouth agape.
“Andon... he became a friend and hired us to do more jobs than we had ever done. He paid so well, that we did them —no questions. When the Sultan asks, you deliver. He’s a powerful man. He beheaded five wives while we were there. Five. He made us watch some of those. We were twenty at the time and from a different culture, so it was shocking, to say the least.” He chuckled. “But we continue to work for him.”
“Philip said he works for the government,” Amara whispered.
Sam shook his head. “It’s... complicated but yes, we do some jobs for them as well. They hire us to do their dirty work so that things won’t be traced back to them. We’re their middle men.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
His dark eyes were soft as he appraised her. “Because I think it’s only fair. It’s better to know what you’re getting into before you do something. I need you on my side, Amara. I realize that you don’t trust me, and I don’t expect you to. I know you dislike Philip, and I don’t blame you. I’m not asking you to like or dislike him. I’m only asking you to work with me. For me. Philip and I share some clients, like I said before. We do a lot of different things. A lot of odd jobs.”
“Yeah, Jack of all trades...” Amara started.
“And masters of all,” Samuel finished.
Amara raised dubious eyebrows and pursed her lips. “Yet you need me?”
“Philip has you working at Méchant because we’re waiting for somebody. Did he tell you that? Andon made a mistake once and gave the wrong people his trust, now they’ve disobeyed that. Three people know about an account Andon has in Sweden, and there are things included in that account that he needs back. Invaluable things. A lot of people will be in trouble if the wrong people got their hands on those things... a lot of people will die.”
“What does that have to do with me? How would I be of any help?”
Samuel put his glass down and looked at her. He licked his lips as he leaned forward. “Because, Amara, it’s under your name.”
Time seemed to slow down as she sat there, staring at him, trying to figure out whether or not it was all a joke.
“How is that possible? My... my mom doesn’t even speak to him anymore. He completely ignored us whenever we would visit with my grandmother. He hates us. Why would he... why me?” Amara whispered.
Samuel shrugged. “He has his reasons.”
“He hates my father. He knows about his gambling habit, he would never give me money...”
“You’re right. He wouldn’t, but you just found out about it, correct? He didn’t give you money.”
“But he’s telling you to look for me.”
“No, he’s not. The account may be under your name, but only one of these three people knows the passcode to get into that vault. They need you to get into it.”
“Why didn’t they go look for me before then?”
Samuel exhaled with a slow nod. “That’s a good question.”
Amara’s leg bobbed. “One you have no answer for?”
“Unfortunately not,” he said with the shake of his head.
“Okay... why doesn’t my grandfather just take my name out and put his own? Wouldn’t that save him the trouble?”
Samuel let out a harsh breath. “Amara! Are you not following? We want the contents! We do! Forget about Andon! I want what is in that safe. Philip wants what is in that safe. There are a handful of others that want what is in that safe!”
She jerked back. “What’s in it?”
“Money, gold, papers.”
Amara ran her clammy hands up and down her jeans. “Which are you interested in?”
Samuel’s eyes snapped to hers. “If somebody comes for you, he’ll ask a series of questions.”
Amara rolled her eyes and let out a laugh at his non-answer. “Nobody has contacted me at Méchant. Nobody that knows about this anyway.”
“How would you know? You just found out about this.”
“I just know,” she said, frowning.
“Very well then, maybe they haven’t, but they will.”
She blinked rapidly and covered her mouth with one hand.
“What?” Samuel asked.
“The other day I was walking around after I left Méchant, and a man attacked me.”
“What did he look like?”
Her face scrunched up. “He had crooked, yellow teeth, dark skin, dark eyes, scrawny.” She shrugged. “There was nothing remarkable about him, he was just scary.”
Samuel’s eyebrows crinkled. “That’s unusual. What did he say?”
“He asked me where I was from, and if I knew who Amir Maloof was.”
Samuel’s eyebrows hiked up. “And what did you say?”
“That I didn’t, but I had already told him where I was from.”
Sam shook his head slowly
and made a disapproving sound. “Never do that, Amara.”
“I know,” she said in a huff. “I was panicking.”
“I’ll have people trail you to keep an eye out. Are you going to New York today?”
“Yes, I have to go see Philip first, but I need to leave as soon as I can.”
“We’ll talk more when you get back.”
Amara took a sip of wine. “So if I work for you, do I get to leave Méchant?”
“I’m sorry, but no. Not right now. The people that know about you, that know about this, will be able to find you at Méchant easier than they would if you were home. They’re not very bright.” He said the last part in a whisper.
“So why not find them first?” She surprised herself with her response.
Samuel chuckled. “Because we don’t know who’s working with the Sultan and who’s working against him. If we find them and word gets back to him, we might as well be dead.”
Her heart was hammering out of her chest. She finally realized what kind of people she was dealing with. “What about Courtney?”
“What about her?”
“Is she involved in this mess? Didn’t you want to get her back, or was that a lie?”
He sighed heavily. “For her sake, I hope Philip has kept her in the dark about this one. As for getting her back, I think I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to do that. I can’t dwell on it right now. She’ll come when she’s ready... and if she doesn’t, I’ll go for her. If I have to kill Philip to get her, I will.”
“I’m surprised you haven’t.”
He smiled. “That bastard makes getting rid of him difficult. We have too many businesses in common, too many things mixed.”
“Is Courtney the only reason you hate each other?”
Samuel looked outside and Amara’s gaze followed. His sister was still out there, strolling around with a basket in her hands. “She’s one reason.” He looked at Amara. “So will you work with me?”
Amara closed her eyes and sighed. “It seems like I make a deal with one person and then get stuck in another. Will I ever be free of this?”
“Freedom... do you know the price of freedom is?”
She shook her head and opened her eyes.
“Death.”
To: Jasmine Oliver
From: Nolan Underwood
Subject: Paris
I’m here on business. I haven’t heard from you in a while. Is everything okay? I set up a session in Méchant and requested you, I hope that’s okay. Please write back.
To: Nolan Underwood
From: Jasmine Oliver
Subject: Re: Paris
Yes, that’s perfect. I’ll see you tonight. Everything is fine.
Amara switched off her phone with a grunt. She decided she loathed Philip. LOATHED. As soon as she got back from Samuel’s, he’d informed her about her session with Nolan.
“He’s still calling, Amara! You haven’t written back! You’re costing me valuable time and money and most of all—an important client! Keep him happy!” he shouted.
“I’ll email him back today!” she shouted bac,k as she stood to walk out of his office.
“No. You will fuck him today. Tonight. If you want to go back to see your mother, you will fuck him tonight, and you’ll make it worth his while. You’ll be tied to the ropes and blindfolded while he fucks you however he wants—fast, slow, whatever the fuck he wants to do to you, he will do!” Philip’s face was completely red as he shouted at her, and Amara shrunk back. She wanted to spit on his face for bringing up her mom and the trip she had to take. How could he expect her to fuck somebody when the only thing she had on her mind was her mother in the hospital? And now Samuel’s offer?
“Fine! But you don’t get to watch, you sick bastard!”
“I watch whom I want to watch, and I join whom I want to join!” he spat back.
Amara turned on her heel and left his office, slamming the door behind her.
That was five hours earlier. She had gotten to the hair salon an hour ago and was staring at her reflection in the mirror as the hairstylist pinned her hair so that it would fall into loose curls later on. Amara’s eyes had a deeper amber glow in contrast to the smoky look they’d given her lids, and her skin was rich and golden now, after they’d airbrushed her with tanning spray, claiming she looked too pale. The door swung open and all heads turned to it, including hers.
“Livraison!” the flower deliveryman sang as he stepped in, carrying what looked like two dozen roses.
Roses. Amara hated roses, especially red ones. She looked away, back to her reflection.
“Jasmine Oliver?” the deliveryman read.
Amara frowned at herself. Jasmine Oliver? Had she heard that correctly? She looked at him again and stood. Her feet seemed to take her places she didn’t want to go.
“That’s me,” she announced. The women in the salon seemed giddy as she took the note from the man.
She read the card over. Nolan. He’d sent her red roses. She knew that was supposed to make her feel lighter, but it didn’t. It made her inwardly cringe. Nolan, whom she’d spoken to countless times via email, had no idea how much she despised red roses. Amara smiled, nonetheless, and looked outside. She saw a man standing on the other side of the street. He was looking right at her, holding a pen and a cup of coffee in his hands. She didn’t know what it was, but there was something about him. He was handsome with a nice, tall build. His blonde hair curled behind his ears, and when he smiled at her, it lit up his face. It was the same man that had been in Philip’s office not too long before. Nolan, she thought.
When Amara waved at him, it was small and timid. Nolan nodded once before he turned and walked away. She wondered if that gesture was enough for him. If it meant he wouldn’t need to physically be with her, or if it was just his way of breaking the ice. Amara looked back at the note and figured it was the latter.
Jasmine, I can’t wait to see you tonight. –Nolan
Tonight. And after tonight, Amara could go be with her mother.
SHE SLID INTO the car with Joshua, soon after her hair appointment and called Samuel as she was transported back to the house.
“I’ll do it. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it,” she said. “What do I do about Philip?”
“Let me handle him,” Samuel said. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
“Samuel,” she whispered. “Is it the same as Méchant? Will I have to...”
“You’ll still be working for Méchant, yes, but in another capacity. I’ll explain everything tomorrow morning. Pack your bags.”
AMARA WALKED INTO the “Salle Fou” as they called it, and looked around. She’d only been in that room once before, when Thelma gave her the tour of Méchant.
“Why do they call it the crazy room?” she asked Courtney. “It doesn’t look that crazy.”
Courtney laughed. “And it won’t, until the show starts. The lights are meant to disorient you, it kind of feels like a club with the strobes and the music.”
Amara looked around again. “So nobody can see in here?”
“Not clearly. Philip had to skip town, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“He’s seen it all at this point,” she said quietly.
“But tonight’s different,” Courtney added.
Their eyes met. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”
“No. No,” she said sympathetically. “I don’t think that at all.”
Amara’s shoulders sunk. “It’s just sex, I know that. I’m not saying I’ll be emotionally involved just because we have sex.”
“Do you feel like you’re emotionally involved with him now?”
She considered it. “No. I don’t know if he is. I mean, I like talking to him. He’s fun. Maybe under different circumstances...” She let the words hang.
“Sit,” Courtney said, signaling toward the foot of the bed. Amara took one last good look around the room before closing her eyes, as she let the silk blindfold fall over her
face. Her hands ran down the silk nightie she wore. The cut was meant to expose the swells of her breasts, and it matched the black lace panties underneath. Amara swallowed hard once Courtney stepped back and began to flutter around the room. She could hear the candles flicker as they were lit and heard a click as smooth music began to play.
“Do I just sit here?” Amara asked. She hoped it was loud enough that Courtney would hear her over the music.
“Yeah, I’ll be right outside. Okay, honey?” she cooed near Amara’s ear.
Amara swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”
“The music will change when he comes in. Remember, control is in your mind. He’ll be in here soon. If there’s anything—“
“He has to wear a condom, right? It’s in the papers?”
“Yes, he will.”
Courtney’s heels clattered across the floor and Amara heard the door shut when she left. It opened again almost instantly.
“Did you forget something again?” Amara called out, smiling. Courtney always forgot something.
When she heard no response, her smile faltered and her ears perked up. She tried to focus on sounds, but the music changed to loud techno, and she couldn’t even think. She could smell him though, when he stopped in front of her. He smelled like one of those body sprays teenagers used. She really hoped he wasn’t a teenager. God, that was all she needed, a little, rich, lying teenager. Amara stopped breathing when his knuckles brush against her cheeks. Nolan’s long fingers worked their way through her hair and down her neck. He stroked the length of her arms before working them up to the straps of her nightgown, slipping his fingers under the delicate fabric and slowly easing them over the roundness her shoulders.
He still hadn’t spoken, and Amara couldn’t. With the loud music, she wasn’t sure she could hear him if he did. How many times had they emailed each other? Flirted over instant messages? A lot more than she had with Samuel, and she’d let him have sex with her—yet this felt different. Her heart leapt every time he touched her. Her skin burned over every trail the tips of his fingers left behind. This was what Courtney had warned her about. This was why she’d tried to help her stay detached: She was allowing her feelings to merge with the sex. Amara couldn’t help loving the sensations when she felt his soft hair against her cheek, or when he tucked his head in her neck and sucked. His hands covered hers for a moment, feeling—just feeling —before he lifted them and placed them over his naked chest. She whimpered when his tongue moved to her collarbone as she traced every single ripple of muscle, every dent of his body before her hands reached his hips to find his massive erection.
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