“Water? Here you go.” He pours water from the sink into a paper cup, places it in front of me, and sits down across the table with his own sandwich.
I have a million questions for him, but I make myself drink my water and eat most of my sandwich before I give in to the impulse. The last thing I want is to upset him and lose out on this meal.
Finally, I can’t wait any longer. “Why are you doing this?” I ask as he finishes his food. My stomach is full to the point of bursting, and I can feel myself getting stronger as my body absorbs the calories. “What do you want from me?”
Lucas looks up, his features taut, and I realize he was just staring at my breasts—which are visible through my long hair. Heat climbs up my neck, and my nipples tighten, responding to the unconcealed desire in his eyes. I’ve been naked in front of him all day, and I’m getting desensitized to it, but that doesn’t mean the situation isn’t intensely sexual. As I hold his gaze, it dawns on me that part of the reason for his silence during dinner must’ve been the distraction of my unclothed body.
He still wants me, and I don’t know if the knowledge terrifies or excites me.
“Tell me about them,” he says abruptly. “Tell me about the people who recruited you, who made you do this.”
And here it is: the true reason he’s being nice to me. He’s playing good cop to the Russians’ bad one, the savior to their villain. It’s so close to my fantasies that I want to cry. Except he’s not interested in saving me; he wants to get answers—answers that I can’t and won’t give.
“What happened that day?” I ask instead. This question has been plaguing me ever since I learned that he and Esguerra are alive. “How did you survive?”
Lucas’s jaw hardens, and the desire in his gaze fades. “You mean with the plane crash?”
“So there was a plane crash?” I hadn’t been sure, though I figured his desire to make me pay meant that something had happened.
Lucas leans forward, his hands crushing his empty paper plate. “Yes, there was a crash. Didn’t your superiors keep you informed?”
I fight the urge to flinch at the renewed fury in his voice. “They did, but I thought they might’ve had wrong information.”
“Because we survived.”
I nod, holding my breath.
He stares at me for a second, then stands up and walks around the table. “Let’s go,” he says, grabbing my arm again. “We’re done here.”
And dragging me back to the living room, he ties me up in the chair and leaves again, the front door slamming loudly behind him.
23
Lucas
As Esguerra discusses the latest transportation concerns with our Hong Kong supplier, I sit silently, my attention only partially on the video call. I don’t understand how one young woman can tie me into knots like this. One minute I want to take care of her, get her strong and healthy, and the next I’m torn between fucking her and killing her on the spot.
#p#分页标题#e#
A child prostitute.
That’s essentially what they made her. They took her at eleven, trained her, and set her loose in Moscow at sixteen with instructions to get close to the highest circles of Russian government.
Just thinking about it makes me sick. I don’t know what infuriates me more: that they did this to her, or that she was involved in the plane crash that killed forty-five of our men and left three more burned beyond recognition.
How is it possible to hate someone and want to avenge the wrongs done to her at the same time?
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Chen,” Esguerra says, uncharacteristically polite, and I see the wizened old man on the screen nodding as he parrots back the words. It’s important to observe the niceties in that part of the world, even when dealing with criminals.
As soon as Esguerra disconnects, I get up, impatient to get back to Yulia. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I say, and he nods, still working on his computer.
“See you,” he says as I walk out.
It’s dark when I step outside—dark, warm, and humid. Esguerra’s office is a small building near the main house, which is a bit of a hike from the guards’ quarters, where I reside. I could’ve driven here, but I enjoy walking, and after sitting still for two hours, I’m eager to stretch my legs and clear my mind.
Before I take a dozen steps, I hear a woman calling my name and turn to see Esguerra’s maid, Rosa, hurrying across the wide lawn. She’s holding what looks like a covered pot against her chest.
“Lucas, wait!” She sounds out of breath.
I stop, curious to find out what she wants. I vaguely recall Eduardo talking about her. He might’ve been dating her at the time. From what he said, she was born on this estate; her parents worked for Juan Esguerra, my boss’s father. I’ve seen her around and exchanged greetings with her a number of times, but I’ve never really spoken to the girl.