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My stomach revolted against my stupidly ingested smoothie.
I looked away.
I…gasped.
A huge swimming pool shaped like a natural pond took my breath away. Boulders and waterfalls, lily pads and sparkling pebbles; it looked as if it belonged in a mythical forest, yet it was here, in the middle of a whorehouse.
Bending into me, Peter muttered, “The gardens keep going. There’s a maze, another restaurant, three gazebos, two orchards, an insane vegetable garden, and…” He curled his upper lip, hatred etching his face. “The snuffbox.”
My ears pricked on that word.
I instantly hated it.
It reminded me of the medieval terms I heard on a daily basis working in the Tower of London. I didn’t care that it was just another word for jewelry box. All I could hear was the word snuff, over and over again.
To murder.
To kill.
To assassinate, destroy, and extinguish.
“Have…” I swallowed hard. “Have you been taken in there?”
He looked away, unable to hide his shiver. “Yep.”
I waited for him to tell me more, but his lips thinned and our complicated friendship frayed. I immediately scrambled for it, desperate to keep our frail bond alive because he was all I had. “I’m sorry, Peter. I’m sorry for what they’ve done to you.”
He gave me a sad smile, his gaze darting back to mine. Another moment passed between us that probably shouldn’t exist before he sighed and shot a glance into the gardens. Bracing his shoulders, he stepped into me. Ever so gently, he tucked loose hair behind my ear. “You asked me if my real name was Peter…it’s not.” He licked his lips and shrugged. “Yah Paavak hai.” (It’s Paavak.)
Purifying.
His name meant purifying, fire, brilliant, pure...
What a cruel, cruel joke to be trapped in the most unpure place on earth.
“Y-You speak Hindi?” I whispered.
“I was born in Leeds, but my family is from Jaipur.” He leaned closer. “But you? I don’t know where you’ve come from, and I don’t know who you are.” He let me go and took a careful step back. “But you have my word, I’ll do whatever I can to keep you breathing. Whoever you are, Ily, forget about her for now. Be whoever you need to be in here. Accept your body’s needs. Embrace the lust that will make you mad. Enjoy being used if you can. Turn off the part of you that judges and says what’s right and wrong. No regrets, no shame. Enjoy it. Hate it. Crave it. Go with it… jeevit rahane ke lie aapako jo bhee banana hai vah banen.” (Be whoever you need to be to survive.)
Not giving me time to reply, he snatched my cuffed wrist and dragged me into the gardens.
Men stopped to stare.
Whispers followed us.
Peter didn’t stop until he climbed the three steps onto the terrace, yanked me to the Master Jeweler sipping on a dainty cup of coffee, then tore off my blue gown, threw it away, and forced me to kneel, naked and speechless, before monsters.
Chapter Thirteen
………………………….
Henri
I SLAMMED TO A STOP as I entered the gardens.
Not because of the beauty of trees and plants, all pruned and tamed within an inch of their natural life. Not because of the many jewels leashed by their collars with golden cuffs glinting. And not because of the many men standing in a mixture of suits and loungewear, their eyes fixed on whatever slave they’d commandeered for the morning.
I froze because of her.
