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Wrenching backward, Henri stabbed his fork into another tempura-battered vegetable. “Apologies, Victor. I merely told her how she better keep her energy levels up because I plan on using her all night.” He cocked his head with a black smile. “After all, the money went through. I’m assuming I can keep her until dawn without sending her back to whatever stable they’re housed in?”
Victor nodded. “That’s correct. She may sleep in your room tonight if you wish.”
“Oh, there won’t be any sleeping.” Henri chuckled. “I can assure you of that.” A shadow flickered in his steely-grey stare. A conniving sort of shadow that snuffed out as quickly as it’d appeared. “In fact, I have a habit of being a bit of an insomniac. You might catch me wandering around the castle at odd hours. That won’t be a problem, will it?”
Victor frowned. “My home is your home. Within reason.”
“Great.” Taking a sip of his drink, Henri made a show of swallowing before asking, “I overheard the other guests talking about a dungeon…?”
Victor suddenly laughed and clapped Henri on his shoulder. “You keep on surprising me, mon ami.” He winked. “I like it.” Looking toward the stage, he added, “Tell you what. If you’re still horny after tonight’s performance and consequent playtime, then I’ll show you the dungeons personally. You can stay down there with Ily until the sun breaks with my blessing.”
“Great.” Henri raised his glass. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I have my own dinner to indulge in.” With a suave bow, Victor moseyed around the tables, nodded at his guests, then took his place at a table closest to the stage. The dark-haired, blue-eyed jewel immediately dropped her head and pressed herself against his knees.
I looked away.
Henri sighed.
The lights dimmed one by one—pretty fairy lights extinguishing as if someone tore off the wings of magical folk and plunged us all into darkness.
Music echoed from hidden speakers, sultry and tribal with a hint of Latin.
A giant spotlight snapped on, drenching the stage with illumination, casting Peter and Corine in a false sun.
The moment the light pinned them in place, Peter grinned and bowed as if he was a fully paid and willing actor on Broadway before spinning Corine around him. The frilly black fabric around her waist flared out, revealing she wore no underwear. Her matching black bra barely supported her ample chest.
Then…they began to dance.
Ethereal and beautiful, completely in tune and practiced.
I lost myself in the beauty of their motion—in the synchronicity of their steps and the mirroring gyrating of their bodies. Somehow, they whisked me away to South America where two young lovers seduced each other on the dance floor, their talent and rhythm enviable.
Was this what Peter meant as tonight’s entertainment? An Indian man who could dance salsa? Where did he learn? How did he get so good?
I gasped as he tossed Corine into the air, catching her and folding her around his torso before placing her on her feet and spinning, spinning, spinning her until her skirt vanished and the blur of her nakedness glowed under the lights.
All around the gazebo, the sounds of men tucking into their food sounded. Cutlery scraping on crockery and ice cubes clinking in glasses. Slaves kneeled beside their respective Masters, heads down, hands on knees, chests scarcely moving.
Barely any of them got fed while their Masters stuffed their gluttonous faces.
Henri didn’t move as Peter let Corine go and the dance number ended. They broke apart, breathing hard.
The urge to clap tingled in my palms.
Henri shuddered above me, almost as if shaking himself out of the same stupor I’d fallen into. With jerky motions, he gathered up some more puree and tempura before lowering the fork to where I kneeled.
Our eyes locked.
Our breathing stopped.
Prickles of power shot between us, deleting everything else until I had tunnel vision of just him. Only him.
Ever so slowly, he bent his lips to my ear. “I know we’re both acting, and I know you probably don’t give a damn about who I am apart from when I can get you out of here, but…I’m getting rather used to being honest with you, Ily.”
I blinked as he inserted the fork into my mouth.
The way his hand flexed as he fed me.
