“I heard Matias removed your collar.” Yessica fingered an olive out of her martini—at ten in the morning?—and popped it in her mouth.
So Matias had made an announcement, but it could’ve been anything. The slave is off her leash. The slave was never a slave. The slave is my life, and I’m going to marry her and have lots of babies…
She sighed. How to reply?
Touching a hand to her naked throat, she went with honesty. “I miss it already.”
Matias sat some thirty feet away, his upper body twisted in the chair and hands gripping the armrests as if moving to stand. She gave him a sharp shake of her head, and he relaxed, but didn’t turn away.
A warm wind rustled across the terrace, rippling the water in the pool and producing a backdrop of whooshing noises. She doubted he could hear her from where he sat.
“Don’t get too comfortable.” One of Yessica’s friends, a pretty blonde, adjusted the strap of her red bikini top. “He’s not a one-woman kind of man.”
“Oh really?” Camila kept her tone light and playful as her stomach boiled with acid. “How’s that?”
“Well, we’ve all fucked him.” The blonde gestured at the other three women. “He visits lots of beds. Never sticks around.” She shrugged. “He’s the boss. Too important to be tied down.”
Camila tried to ignore the twitch in her eye and the pang in her chest as her smile strained her face. She focused on the fact that this woman had casually mentioned Matias’ role as the boss in front of his supposed slave. Now she really wanted to know the specifics of his announcement.
“But he seems to prefer Yessica.” Another blonde plucked an olive from her bloody mary and tossed it in Yessica’s modest cleavage.
They all laughed as Camila tried her damnedest to keep her fists from bloodying their noses.
“He makes his rounds, but he always comes back to me.” Yessica stretched in the lounge chair, her tiny swimsuit revealing far more of her Latina curves than it covered. “I’ll just hang out here until he comes in me…I mean, comes to me again.”
“Huh.” Camila gave her a thoughtful look. “When was the last time he came in you?”
“It’s been…Oh, you know.” Her eyes darted away, and she grinned, but it was taut at the corners. “He holds out for a while then he comes to me all pissed off and sexy. Sweet Jesus, that man gives good angry sex.”
Camila’s stomach threatened to hurl. She felt Matias gaze hot on her face, but she refused to look at him. It was crucial that she establish her position here without his dominating interference.
“And good gifts, too.” Yessica’s eyes sparkled. “He always gives me dresses and pearls and makeup—”
“Does he give you the belt?” Camila asked sweetly.
She really didn’t want to hear this answer, but she needed to understand if Yessica had been just an orgasm to him or if she was one of the women he’d shared a more intimate relationship with. The kind that involved pain and acceptance and trust.
“A belt?” Yessica pursed her lips. “You mean, does he beat me?”
“Yes. Did he whip your ass with a belt?”
She snorted then exaggerated a full-body shudder. “No, sweetheart.”
“Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?” She narrowed her eyes.
Her friends found interest in their fingernails, drinks, and the grout in the tile flooring.
“Any woman can get dresses and pearls and makeup, but only the special ones get his belt.” Camila leaned over Yessica’s chair. “I’ll say this one time, and this goes for all of you.” She waved a hand, indicating the collective whole of prostitutes. “Do not touch him, invade his personal space, or proposition him. Do not do anything that disrespects me. If I get a whiff of it—and trust me, ladies, I’ll know—I’ll have your asses removed from this estate. I have no problem with the services you provide around here, but going forward, Matias is no longer a client. Are we clear?”
Paralyzed silence.
Camila sighed. “I asked a question.”
“Yes.” Yessica ground her teeth. “We’re clear.”
“Cool.” She gave them a cordial smile. “Chau pues!”
She turned and headed toward him, her steps lighter, easier. As she closed the distance, however, jealousy tried to work its way into her resolve. She pushed it back with the reminder that she’d fucked countless men, causing Matias the same amount of pain.
When she reached his table, she moved toward the empty chair, but he gripped her arm and pulled her onto his lap.
“Do I want to know what that was about?” He brushed his lips against her ear and nibbled.
Tate angled toward Nico, distracted by whatever was displayed on Nico’s phone.
“No more gifts for Yessica.” She twisted to look at Matias.
“I don’t shop for her.” His eyes glimmered. “I receive all kinds of shit when I travel to the States. Presents from my business partners. I give her the girly stuff to divide among the whores.”
Relief settled through her. “Well, maybe just give that stuff to a homeless person or something.”
“I can do that.” He nuzzled her neck. “What else?”
“They won’t be propositioning you anymore. Hope your ego can handle that.”
“I’ll live.” He nipped the skin beneath her ear.
She shivered with pleasure. “What did you announce this morning?”
“I briefed my lieutenants on your status and had them run the update down their chains of command. Everyone who stays here now knows you’re my equal.”
“Your equal?” Her heart slammed against her rib cage.
“My life,” he said matter-of-factly.
A wave of heat gathered between her legs. As significant as his statement was, it also carried an undertone of need. Every interaction he shared with her was sexual in its delivery. He knew how to arouse her with his growly timbre, a look in his eyes, a caress of his breath against her skin. He didn’t even have to touch her to satisfy her. It was his demanding hunger—that of a confident, dominant man—that she responded to, lifting her face to the rumble of his voice, offering herself
