Lucca stops stroking himself and grins at me. My heart starts to rise again as his grin turns into a smile that I’ve never seen before, and I’m smiling back at him.
He climbs off the bed, then leans in and scoops me up. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I study his face as he carries me into the bathroom. It’s not as grand as the penthouse, but it’s his. Bottles of shower gel and hair products are on a stand in the shower that he puts my feet down into. He turns on the water, and I take a moment to check him out. Even his bum is solid. Warm water flicks close to me.
“Take your time,” Lucca says before stepping out of the shower. I step into the spray of water and start to wash.
I feel like a woman. I remember the first time I bled. It was terrifying and painful, but afterward, I had felt like a real woman; that’s exactly how this feels like now I’m a fully-fledged woman.
I take my time and wash my body. I touch my ass, expecting it to be sore, but it’s just sensitive to the touch. They didn’t teach us that on the ship.
I finish washing, and when I return to the bedroom, Lucca isn’t there. I feel disappointed until I see fresh clothes have been laid out on the bed for me.
A pair of dark jeans and a purple top lie on the bed. My bra is on the floor, and I pick it up and start to get dressed. I’m tempted to look around the room to learn more about Lucca, but he enters the room with wet hair from a recent shower. He is redressed in black trousers and a white shirt. His silver eyes look stark.
I know my intentions for kissing him were so I could convince him to free my sisters, but at his first touch, something had shifted, and now I wanted to know more about Lucca. I wanted to know the man I had wanted.
“I’m from Ireland.”
Lucca runs his hand through his dark hair but pauses at my words.
“I had this weird obsession with swimming at night. My parents warned me about the current, but…” I shrug and sit down on the bed. “I didn’t listen to them.”
Lucca steps into the room.
“This one night, I found a girl; she was about my age.”
I want Lucca to ask me questions. I want him to get invested in me. If I could make him see me as a person and not a thing, I might have a chance at saving my sisters.
“Her boat had washed up on our shoreline. I tried to help her, but I got dragged into the water and was knocked unconscious.”
I swallow the pain that feels like it was only inflicted yesterday. “I was ten.”
“I was stolen from the shores of County Clare, from my parents.” Pain burns my chest and tightness around my heart. Lucca is watching me, but he isn’t reacting.
“The girl I tried to save was recaptured by the men who had stolen her from her home. They made an example of her, a warning to the rest of us not to run.”
“She died at my feet.” I blink from the tears and let them fall. The pain is still so raw. “I died there, too,” I whisper.
“I’m sorry.” Lucca isn’t sorry. His words are empty.
“I was a child.” I’m standing now, trying to connect with the humanity that is in us all.
He doesn’t speak, and I can see I’m losing any sympathy I had.
“You asked me who I was trying to ring. You still want to know?”
He doesn't. I can see it in his eyes.
“My parents, in Ireland. Who, to this day, I’m sure are still looking for their ten-year-old daughter.”
My lip trembles, and I bite down on it. “They could drain the sea, and they won’t find me, Lucca.”
I move closer to him. “Can you understand that kind of pain?”
He doesn't answer.
“Times that by six. Six more of my sisters were taken. Sold. And you have the power to set us all free.”
I wipe falling tears off my face.
“I’m sorry that you suffered, Evie. But my job is to return you all to Igor.”
His voice is emotionless. His words were empty.
“You don’t care that they steal children?”
“It happens. It’s life. You should really count yourself lucky that you didn’t end up somewhere far worse.”
His words are like a slap in the face.
“You must have had a very cushy life. It’s fine for people like you that lost nothing.”
Lucca takes a step towards me. “I have lost plenty, Evie. But my loss won’t make me see yours any differently than what it is.”
“What is your loss?” I’m clenching my fists with frustration. I’m trying to find a connection with him.
He is reacting to anything only with indifference and calm.
“You’re full of lies.” I spit.
His head tilts, and the warning is there to be very careful.
I swallow my anger and close my eyes while nodding my head.
“I grew up in a camp from the age of six.”
I open my eyes, and my heart sinks. Six. Too young. “I’m so sorry.” I don’t hold back my horror at the thoughts of a young Lucca in some camp.
“Most of the boys there were also stolen.”
I sink back onto the bed. “You were stolen, too.”
His indifference makes sense now. He doesn’t want to feel.
He moves for the first time. “No. I volunteered. ”I’m not like you, Evie. I wasn’t stolen or taken. I was there because that’s where I
