He snorts but scans the list again. “I can head out and get this shit today, I guess. You want to come with?”
“Not this time.” I’m afraid if I leave the island, I won’t come back again. Like he’ll dump me on the shore with a mention of “boss’s orders” and then I’ll never see Rafe again. I’m keeping my ass planted here until I get to talk to Rafe. Then, if he really wants me to go, I’ll tuck my tail between my legs and head home to figure out what to do as a hand model that has ugly hands.
Bennito checks over the list again. “Extremely sexy lace bra, size 34DD? Matching garters and stockings in black? Red stilettos, size nine? Lubricant? Handcuffs? You sure this is all for the ladies on the island?”
There’s no point in lying. “No, that shit is for me. It’s a welcome home present for your boss.” I plan on seducing Rafe until he’s so lost that he won’t possibly think it’s a good idea for us to split up again. “Any other questions?”
He grins. “Just one. Can I watch?”
“Not on your life.”
? ? ?
Bennito and two of the men return late that night with the stuff I’ve asked for, and I spend the next morning with Fernanda, distributing it and setting up a central “supply closet” in the old hotel. Two other women and I have keys to it, and we discuss setting up regular distributions and what we should ask the men to get next. It’s sad to see the light shining in a sixteen-year-old ex-prostitute’s eyes when she gets underwear with decent elastic or her baby gets a new blanket. It all makes me more determined that these ladies should have a better life. The island is gorgeous and safe, but the men won’t know what they need if the women are too scared to ask for anything.
I get hugged by woman after woman, who exclaim their excitement in Portuguese, and I make a mental note to ask for some Rosetta Stone disks the next time Bennito heads out, so I can learn the basics. Fernanda looks happy, though, so it’s a start.
Buzz is that the men are returning home that afternoon, so I take off to make myself pretty. Everything has to be perfect for my seduction tonight. I shave every inch of my body, even my *, because I remember he likes that I’m bare. I lotion up my limbs with my favorite sweet-scented body lotion, and take time curling my hair until it’s big and bouncy. I put on light makeup—mostly mascara and eyeliner—so my eyes look big and luminous.
I put on the bra and adjust the straps. It’s a push-up bra (Bennito’s such a horndog) and my tits look even bigger than normal and jiggle as if they’re about to fall out of the fabric. That’s all right, because I don’t plan on wearing this for long. I put on the garters and stockings, deliberately without panties, because I want to blow Rafe’s mind. Last comes a pair of red stilettos and matching red lipstick.
There’s no making my wrist bandage sexy, so I tie a bit of lacy ribbon on it. My bullet wound is two spots bandaged on my front and my back, and a lot of bruises. There’s nothing I can do about that except hope that it doesn’t detract from the overall picture.
I’ve also invaded Mendoza’s room. The bed has newly washed sheets, and I’ve straightened the place up since there was laundry everywhere. It’s obvious it’s a guy’s room, because there’s almost nothing on the walls except for a shelf that holds a bunch of sports video games. I fix up the bed and dust it with rose petals, then set a few strategic candles in the room and light them. I turn on soft, sexy music.
Then I recline on the bed and wait.
According to Bennito, the men should be home any minute now, and I’m a bit nervous. Is Rafe going to think I’m too presumptuous? Too forward? I eye the handcuffs I’ve put on one corner of the bed. They’re part of my plan. If he doesn’t want to listen to all the reasons I think I should stay, I’m going to tie him down (sexily) and show him (also sexily) how good it will be if I stay.
The door opens, and I fluff my hair, waiting for Rafe to get a look at me.
The man that walks in is . . . not Rafe. He’s tall, blond, and surprised to see me. Behind him is another man, good-looking, pale . . . also not Rafe.
I squeal and rip the blankets up, covering myself just as Rafe steps in behind the guys. Their eyes are wide.
The blond grins. “You must be Ava.”
Rafe looks shocked to see me.
That’s all right, I’m pretty freaking shocked myself. I hold the blankets over my pelvis (God, I am totally shaved and they’ve seen everything) and try to think of something to say. “Um . . . yes.”
“I thought you’d be gone,” Rafe says in a low voice. He’s staring at the rise of my tits as they spill out of the bra. I probably should have covered them.
Nah, he can look his fill. His friends can, too, so they can see what he’s getting in his bed.