Page 17 of The Tourist

The doctor suggested that I listen in, and Chloe agreed. I’ve arranged for the session to be held at my home because I know Chloe doesn’t want to leave the compound, at least for the time being. I saw the fear in her eyes when I mentioned visiting Dr. Allen’s office.

"I hated him," Chloe says, her voice breaking slightly. "He bought me, injected me with heroin, and raped me. He gave me to his friends to beat and abuse as well. He was a monster. Every time I close my eyes, I see his face. I feel his hands on me and smell his stale cigar breath. It’s like he’s always there, lurking in the shadows. I keep expecting him to appear with a needle and drag me away. I’m scared that one day I’m going to wake up back in his dungeon and discover my rescue was nothing but a drug-induced dream."

Dr. Allen leans forward, her voice gentle. "It’s important to express these feelings. Holding them in only gives him more power over you. You need to talk about what happened to you, reconciling it with how you feel now and how you felt before. Youwillforever be changed by what happened to you, but with time, you can learn to live with the emotions it brings. Sadness and anger are normal responses to the trauma you have been through, but they won’t always control you unless you let them."

Chloe nods, taking a deep breath. "He robbed me of everything. He took my freedom, my sense of safety, and my innocence. I hate him for what he did to me and for what he turned me into. Eight hundred thousand dollars was the price he paid for my freedom. I think that’s what hurts the most. I was reduced to a commodity. It’s given me a completely different view on life. Simple things seem strange to me now, and I’m suspicious of everything and everybody."

I feel a surge of rage building inside me. The details are horrific, and each word is a dagger to my heart. I want to protect Chloe, to shield her from the pain, but I know she needs to face this if she’s going to heal. I can understand why the doctor wanted me to hear everything, though. It gives me an insight into what Chloe suffered. It also makes me even more determined to continue working with Eaton until we find every person his father abducted and sold.

My fury intensifies as I think about Serena, who’s still out there somewhere. I can't help but imagine that she’s enduring the same kind of horrors as Chloe did and at the hands of similar monsters. The thought of Serena trapped and suffering is agony to me, and I clench my fists until the whites of my knuckles show.

Chloe continues, describing the abuse in graphic detail, and my vision blurs with tears of rage and frustration. I can’t take it anymore. I stand abruptly, the chair legs scraping loudly against the floor, and leave the room without a word.

Out in the hallway, I pace back and forth, trying to calm myself down. But it’s no use. The anger is too intense, too raw. I slam my fist into the wall, and the pain that shoots up my arm is a welcome distraction from the emotional agony.

"Fuck!" I shout, pounding the wall, again and again, until my knuckles are bruised and bleeding.

The physical pain grounds me, and I feel myself regain some control. I take a few deep breaths, leaning forward against the wall with my forehead resting on the cool surface.

Needing to escape, I take off in my car and head to Las Vegas. It’s early evening as I drive aimlessly through the streets. Eventually, I find myself at the bar of one of my casinos, and I lose myself in the noise and the crowd.

El Oasis is a testament to my Spanish culture. With it’s grand façade of white stucco walls, terracotta roofing, and wrought iron balconies, the casino offers an experience that promises both excitement and refinement.

When our guests step inside, they're transported to another world. The entrance hall features high, vaulted ceilings with intricate wooden beams and iron chandeliers that cast a warm, inviting glow. The floors are tiled in rich terracotta hues, reminiscent of traditional Andalusian designs, and a grand staircase with a wrought iron and mahogany bannister sweeps up to the mezzanine level, which is where the exclusive lounges and private gaming rooms are located.

The main gaming floor is a sprawling expanse of opulence, designed to draw the gamblers in. The ceiling mimics the clear blue skies of Spain, complete with a few fluffy clouds. Vibrant murals on the walls depict scenes from Spanish history and culture—flamenco dancers, bullfighters, and serene vineyard landscapes. Classical Spanish guitar music plays softly in the background while dealers, in traditional Spanish matador attire, manage the tables.

The courtyard, open to the sky, is at the heart of El Oasis. Olive trees and orange blossoms create a canopy of greenery, and the stone-paved ground is dotted with tables and chairs. A stage at one end hosts nightly live flamenco performances and provides a space for dance lessons during the day.

With their plush velvet seating, rich tapestries, and exquisite artwork, the private lounges and VIP areas offer astonishing luxury. Personal butlers attend to our guests’ every need, ensuring they experience the pinnacle of comfort and sophistication. It is in one of these lounges that I’m now sitting.

A butler brings me a drink. I don’t need to order, because my employees all know I prefer my family’s tequila. I down it quickly before signaling for another. The alcohol helps dull the edge of my anger, but it’s not enough.

"Diego!" A familiar voice calls out, and I turn to see Lisa, a woman I’ve known for years.

She loves the Las Vegas nightlife and enjoys providing an escort service to anyone who needs it. You could say she’s a prostitute, but the reality is she doesn’t charge. She just loves to have fun. Tonight, she’s dressed to kill, her body moving seductively to the music as she approaches me.

"Hey, Lisa," I greet her, managing a small smile. "Long time no see."

"Yeah, it’s been a while," she replies, pouting her lips. "You look like you could use some company."

I nod, grateful for the distraction. "You’ve no idea."

We talk for a while. The conversation is light, and a welcome change from the heavy weight of my reality. Lisa’s laughter is infectious, and her touch is soothing.

She leans in close, and her lips brush against my ear as she whispers, "Let’s get out of here."

I don’t hesitate. We leave the bar and head up to the apartment I keep at the casino. As soon as we’re inside, Lisa pulls me into a passionate kiss, her hands roaming over my body. I respond eagerly, needing to lose myself in the physical connection so I can forget everything, even if it’s only for a little while.

She pushes me onto the bed, and undoing my belt, she slides her hand down and wraps it around my erect cock. I close my eyes, letting the sensations take over. Unbidden, Chloe’s face flashes into my mind. Her haunted eyes are a stark reminder of the reality I can’t escape.

"Wait," I say, placing my hand on Lisa’s to stop her movements and loosen her grip from around my cock. "Stop."

She looks up at me, confusion and concern mingling in her eyes. "What’s wrong? I thought you wanted this."

"I do…I did," I admit, sitting up and running a hand through my hair. "I thought it would help, but... it feels wrong. I’ve made a mistake. This isn’t what I need right now. I’m going to head home. You can stay here tonight. On the house. Order room service and pamper yourself.”

She shrugs and nods her thanks.

---