The day dragged like a heavy chain around my neck. Every hour ticked with dread, the weight of themasquerade pressing down until it was hard to breathe. The medicine was working. My bottom half didn't throb as much as it had throughout the night. At least Hector was merciful in making sure no one screwed me at the party.
I couldn't even imagine how much that would hurt.
After breakfast, Hector spent most of the morning on calls, pacing the apartment like a man possessed. He barked orders in Spanish, his voice loud and impatient. He had Becca and Layla brought back about twenty minutes ago. I was so happy to see both of them. Becca looked terrified. I can only imagine what she witnessed in the cottages.
Layla was still pretty banged up thanks to Juan's horrific beating the other day, but she was on the mend.
The three of us sat in the den like obedient dogs, awaiting further instructions. Becca wouldn't meet my eyes, and Layla kept her gaze on the floor, lost in thought. My mind kept running, circling and reaching for a way out that didn't exist.
The only hope for Beck and me was a six foot six man coming to rescue us. That was wishful thinking on my part. The party was tonight, and the both of us would most likely be handed over to new handlers in the morning. I don't think Atlas is coming. I don't hold any anger towards him for not being here already. He must be having a hard time finding us.
Hector was right. At least we knew what we were in for under his rule, and at least Becca would have been able to stay with me. I blew it by not being honest with him, but what did I know? I thought he would have murderedus if he had known the truth. It was too late now, unless I swallowed my pride and begged like a dog, but that wouldn't work on Hector. He didn't give a shit about anyone but himself.
Lunchtime came.
The tray was carried in by guards, who smirked when they saw us sitting at the kitchen table in our Roman outfits.
Just another bunch of assholes who loved to hurt women.
The food was better than usual. Grilled chicken, rice pilaf and fresh Italian bread, but none of us could eat much.
My stomach churned with fear. Hector made a point of watching us chew, laughing under his breath when Becca gagged on a piece of meat.
"You'll eat now," he said, wiping grease from his mouth with his signature napkin, "because tonight you won't get the chance. My guests decide what goes into your mouth, and I am betting it's many, many cocks."
The cruelty rolled off his tongue so easily; it made me shudder with revulsion. He was one twisted fucker.
By early afternoon, attendants arrived—women dressed in black, their eyes devoid of any emotion, like they'd seen too much, and one slip from their lips would bring a severe beating. Hector ordered them tomake us look beautiful."
They pulled us into the bathroom one by one, scrubbing our skin raw and combing out our hair until I thought I was going to scream. They painted our lipsrepeatedly, almost to where I didn't think I could open my mouth. Before heading into the den, I caught my reflection in the mirror. A stranger stared back. I was a doll dressed for slaughter. Dark red lips, tons of blush on my cheeks, heavy black eyeliner and brown eye shadow were plastered all over my face.
When the attendants were done, the three of us stood side by side in the den. The excessive makeup made us look like clowns. Our white Roman dresses clung to our damp skin, sheer and thin, leaving nothing to the imagination. The straps dug into our shoulders.
The cloth hung mid-thigh, leaving us bare beneath.
We weren't allowed to wear thongs tonight.
No dignity for any of us.
Hector walked in a slow circle around us, his grin spreading with every step. "Look at you all," he drawled, eyes traveling down our bodies. "Perfect little offerings. You and Becca will bring me a fortune tonight. Layla stays with me."
Becca flinched when he reached out, his thumb grazing her cheek. Layla closed her eyes when he ran his hand down her arm, his fingers deliberately pressing over her bandaged ribs. She flinched, but made little fuss. She seemed relieved that he was keeping her, while Beck and I would be thrown to the wolves. Of course, it wasn't her fault; she was just another nobody in Hector's chamber of horror.
I stood stiffly, fists clenched at my sides, refusing to give him the satisfaction of shrinking away.
"Green eyes," he whispered when he stopped in front of me. "You'll be the star of the evening."
His laugh was low and maniacal.
"My guests will pay top dollar to break that fire in you."
I swallowed my rage, locking it deep inside. It took all I had not to spit in the scumbag's face.
As dusk fell, the guards returned. They herded us out of the apartment, across the courtyard, and toward the mansion. The night air was a little cool against my bare legs, goosebumps rising as the sound of music floated from the grand house ahead. Lanterns lit paths, masked guests already arriving in sleek cars, limousines and SUVs. The sound of laughter carried through the gates, dark and predatory.
Joyful for the customers, a nightmare for us.
We were led up a white stone spiral staircase, guards flanking us on either side. Becca walked stiffly, her hand brushing mine when the guards weren't looking. I squeezed once—silent, desperate reassurance.
