Guilt assaulted him again.
He turned his attention to dinner as it arrived: a paella of saffron rice with local shrimp and chorizo. As Colin ate, his awareness of the girl so close never left him. He noticed the guests feeding the slaves now and then, but not nearly enough. They were all too thin. With sour distaste, Colin also noticed that Marco fed Perla two bites for every one Angela received.
“Se?or Ruiz,” Colin said. When the man looked over Colin asked, “May I?” He held a shrimp, as if to feed Angela.
Marco’s eyebrows went up. “Of course.”
Colin felt strange, almost shaky inside, as he brought the piece of food to her mouth in his fingers. Her lips opened in acceptance, taking in the shrimp, and biting down at the edge of the tail. Her lips were soft and warm against his fingertips.
Do not react, he commanded his body. Colin thought about rugby—running and dodging. Anything not to let himself become aroused and have a repeat of the previous night.
Angela dropped her head and chewed in silence. He fed her several more bites before dinner was over, experiencing a small rush each time she accepted his offerings. He wondered how often she felt hungry. Her collarbones jutted out. The thought upset him. When his creme brule came he took two bites and proceeded to feed her the rest.
Marco chuckled next to him. “You’re going to make her fat.”
Was he blind? Or simply a fucking arsehole?
“Not possible,” Colin said. He set the spoon down with a clink and looked at the man. “I’ve never…fed anyone before.”
Marco smiled, seeming to understand the sensual empowerment that came from holding a lover’s sustenance in your very fingers. To be so needed at the apex of one’s existence. To control another person in such a way…damn it…Colin could see the allure of it for the first time in his life, and he didn’t want to feel that way. He cleared his throat and pushed back from the table, setting his napkin beside his plate.
“I think I’ll take a walk and then retire to work for the evening. The meal was lovely, Se?or Ruiz.”
Marco nodded, a small smile hiding under his mustache. “As was the company. Enjoy.”
Colin didn’t like that shit-eating grin, like Marco knew his internal struggles. He felt the eyes of Marco’s men on him as he walked through the halls and breezeway onto the veranda. As always, he was poised to fight if it came to that. He passed the empty pool, listening to the rush of water and feeling the warm breeze against his skin. Colin went to the edge and stared over the side at the rocks and distant crash of waves below. His mind began devising routes of escape. He could scale these cliffs down, but he couldn’t expect Angela to do the same. A jump from this high would lead to death or maiming.
With surveillance cameras surely covering the property, and armed men at every corner, Marco’s villa was the perfect prison. Colin loved a good challenge, but only when his own life was on the line, not an innocent’s. He had no clue how he’d get her out of here, and he didn’t enjoy the unwelcome nervousness and doubt that rose up in his gut.
He shoved his hands into his pockets as more immediate concerns filled his mind. He couldn’t feign “inspiration” the entire time he was here based on one instance of good head. He’d be expected to do something more during his time. But not tonight. He would worry about that tomorrow. Tonight he would force himself to start another painting. An image of soft, luscious lips curling around masculine fingertips came to mind and he had to adjust himself.
This place was already getting to his mind. The way it all seemed so damned…normal. Acceptable. He was grateful this would be his last mission, because he’d need a long break to find himself again after this.
Something felt amiss as Colin walked through the empty great room toward his hall. He couldn’t place where the threat stemmed from, but warning alarms went off in his head, his senses going on high alert. He’d always had a keen intuition for danger. He glanced behind him. Nothing. When he turned the corner he saw one of the guards standing in front of his door.
Colin’s muscles were readied for action and his heart was thumping hard as he approached. He was prepared to strike first, if need be. The guard nodded and stepped aside, clearing his throat and speaking in broken English. He thought his name was Luis.
“Master Ruiz have one rule for his slaves. No permanent damage to the bodies. Sí?”
What the fuck? “Okay,” Colin said evenly.
“For his slave Angel he have special rule. No anal sex. And she can no go outside.”
Colin nodded, baffled. Luis opened the door for him.
All at once, the blood pumping hard through Colin’s body flooded one particular area, because there, dangling from his bedpost like a creamy gift, was Angela.