Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63082 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Nash’s stomach turned. “Drugs?”
“That’s one option. We have others—and an exceptional success rate.” She gestured to a leather folder on the desk. “You’ll find a schedule of upcoming gatherings. Attendance is optional, though encouraged. Dr. Reid will examine your breeder weekly to check for conception and any other medical complications. Once pregnancy is confirmed, you’re free to leave with your property. Mr. Gray handles any dissatisfaction, though refunds are rare.”
She indicated the phone on the elaborate desk against the wall. “You can contact your associates through the switchboard. All communications are monitored, of course. For everyone’s safety.”
The threat was clear in her icy smile.
“Otherwise, think of this as a luxury vacation,” she concluded. “With the added benefit of a new toy. Remember, all interaction with merchandise must occur on premises. Attempting early departure will have…unfortunate consequences.”
Her heels clicked toward the door. “Your evening meal should arrive shortly. Your food preferences have been taken into account.”
“What about my…breeder?” He hated saying that word. “She’ll be fed, yes?”
“Of course, and quite well. We would never mistreat your merchandise. I suggest you rest between now and the ceremony, Mr. King,” Ms. Winters added from the doorway.
Then she was gone, the door clicking with finality behind her.
Heart revving, Nash moved around the suite, his footsteps echoing across marble floors as he catalogued details. Haisley’s vanilla-musky scent—something uniquely her—lingered in the air, confirming what his heart already knew.
She had been here. She was still alive.
In six hours, he would have to watch her be paraded in front of a crowd. Would have to “claim” her like property. Would have to pretend to be exactly the kind of monster he was here to destroy.
Until then, he was trapped here alone with traces of her presence and growing dread about what midnight would bring.
CHAPTER SIX
Wearing nothing but the flesh-colored silk slip she’d been provided—sans undergarments—Haisley paced the opulent waiting room, lace cupping her breasts and brushing the tops of her thighs. Her bare feet sank into plush carpet with each step. God, she was almost naked, and she felt so vulnerable.
Midnight was a handful of hours away. When her “buyer” would come. When her life would change.
Her stomach pitched and churned.
The setting sun painted the Caribbean waters gold, but she’d been focused on the waiting room, which was both luxurious and suffocating. Crystal chandeliers cast rainbow prisms across cream walls. She’d spent hours searching for weaknesses—testing windows, examining fixtures, studying guard rotations. Nothing.
Silk drapes framed hurricane-proof windows that may as well have been iron bars. Every beautiful, privilege-soaked surface was another way to trap her.
Movement on the pier caught her eye. A yacht docking, sleek and white against the sapphire water. Three men disembarked in expensive suits that caught the dying sunlight. One towered over the others, his stride familiar… Nash? Her heart leaped, then plummeted. The distance was too great to be sure. Wishful thinking, she told herself. She was seeing what she desperately wanted to see, manufacturing hope where none existed.
A silent guard delivered dinner on fine china—some elaborate French dish with a rich aroma that turned her stomach. The goblet caught the light like crystal, but it was harmless plastic filled with water. No wine. No alcohol of any kind to dull her terror about what tonight would bring.
Probably for the best. She needed her wits about her, needed to stay sharp and aware of any opportunity.
The stylist arrived as darkness fell, and the hands of the clock crept closer to midnight. Her hands were gentle as she arranged Haisley’s hair into elaborate curls, weaving in tiny crystal pins that caught the light. In the mirror, Haisley studied the woman’s face—young, pretty, with kind eyes that didn’t match her detached demeanor.
“Please,” Haisley whispered. “I know you can see this is wrong. These women—we’re people. We have lives, families. People who love us. I was kidnapped. Stolen. This isn’t right.”
The woman’s hands stilled for a fraction of a second. In the mirror, their eyes met. For one breathless moment, Haisley thought she might have reached her.
The stylist’s gaze darted to the cameras mounted in each corner, then back. Sympathy flickered across her face before she looked away, hands trembling as she pinned another curl. When she finished, she packed her supplies with mechanical precision and fled, leaving Haisley fighting tears that would ruin her carefully applied makeup.
Crying wouldn’t help. Crying only proved these monsters who saw her as nothing but breeding stock were winning.
The guard returned with the “costume” to wear over her short silk slip—a crimson velvet cloak that whispered against her skin and a golden mask that felt cold and heavy in her hands. The mask was a work of art, covering her entire face except for almond-shaped eye holes and narrow slits for breathing. The mouth was solid gold, sealing away her voice. Like everything else here, it was beautiful and horrible at once.