Page 39 of Tormented Heir

I flinch, but he only brushes a damp lock of hair from my face.

“Exquisite,” he breathes.

The men shuffle their feet behind him.

“Go.” The boss snaps his fingers. “Take the trafficked girls to the shore. Keep the girlfriends of the men here and take some pictures with them, but don’t touch them. It’s for show only.”

“God, you ruin all our fun,” Brute Two says, but his cheeky grin shows he’s only joking. It lightens the atmosphere between the men after all the violence and makes me think maybe they’re only messing around. Perhaps they aren’t as bad as they seem.

Naïve hope blooms in my chest, but what do we have without hope? I must believe I can get out of this. This boss person has forbidden his men from touching the women who are to stay. Will he extend the same protection to me?

His gaze burns into me as his men leave the room, closing the door behind them.

“You’re astonishing,” he says as if talking to himself. “Where the hell did scum like Dorian find a gem like you?”

I don’t speak because I think it’s a rhetorical question.

Dear God, just who has my father married? Hana is related to Dorian, and this deadly and dangerous predator calls Dorian scum, so just how bad was Dorian? And Ari?

Another man steps into the room and drags the dead body out. I can’t bear to look.

“Dimitri,” he says to the boss. “You’ll need to take her somewhere else while we clean up these cabins. There are two rooms down a separate corridor that haven’t been used. Maybe put her in there while we get the wet work done and the cleaning carried out.”

Wet work? I know what that means. I need to get off this fucking boat.

“Can I go home?” I finally manage to say.

“Oh, no, little bird, you can’t.” The boss, Dimitri, watches me as if mesmerized. “You see, for now, you need to be seen as mine.”

He picks me up. His arms are big, and he’s so warm. He smells delicious, and I’m acutely aware I haven’t had a shower for days, and I probably smell of sick.

As we leave the room, he grabs a throw from the chair and covers me.

He kicks the door to another room open, and I glance around and see it is spotless. It’s plainer than the previous rooms I’ve been in too. There’s a narrow bed against one wall and no window. Not even one of those small, round ones, which kicks up my sense of claustrophobia.

Wanting to try to get my new captor on my side, I try to talk to him.

“Is Mila okay?” I ask. I barely know her, but she’s someone to him. “And her friend, Josie?”

He frowns down at me, and in this light, I can see the astonishing colors in his eyes. God, they are beautiful. Swirls of oceanic blues, greens, and a hint of gold in the flecks. The colors of the sea surrounded a tropical island.

“You know her?”

“We all made a promise to look after one another,” I say. It’s a lie, but right now I’ll use anything.

“Huh,” he replies, followed with, “Mila isn’t your concern now.”

“Let me go,” I whisper.

“Sorry, little blue. I can’t. Not quite yet.”

He places me gently on the bed and looks at me, letting his gaze take me in. He isn’t leering; he looks at me dispassionately now.

“You need cleaned up. Let’s get you ready for your starring role, little bird.”

No. No, no, no.

The enticing sliver of freedom I saw is snatched away again, and the cell doors clang shut.

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