"Scivola?" she interjects with another question.

  I sigh. "The family we're hoping to work with. They set their eyes on Lailah years ago, when she was still a teenager, way too young to be considered for something like this. But their proposal was intriguing enough for us to make a deal with them. Once Lailah turned 21 years old, she was to become the wife of the first son of one of their bosses."

  Her shoulders grow more tense with every word as she slowly gains understanding of what her role will be in all of this.

  "Who is Lailah?" she dares to ask, caution overshadowing her posture. "And where is she? Why do you need me to pretend to be her?"

  "Lailah is one of us. She grew up under the boss's wings after losing her parents as a child," I explain. "She's as loyal as can be, owing her life to the boss, and to us. But..."

  I pause, biting my lips in anger as I try to maintain my composure. It's a fucking tragedy, next to all the shit that this causes for all of us, it's just that. A tragedy. Unfair.

  "She got sick, very sick," I go on. "She won't live much longer, and she sure as hell won't be able to carry out the mission, even though she's been prepping for it for years now."

  The girl sucks in a sharp breath.

  "So, you want me to marry this... Scivola boy?" she asks, her eyes wide with disbelief. "And just pretend to be someone I'm not? For the rest of my life?"

  I can't suppress a laugh at her naive question. It's understandable, of course. I spoke of marriage, and for a girl like her, spoiled with romantic notions of eternal love, that means forever.

  But I shake my head.

  "Not quite, little girl. Yes, I do want you to pretend to be her, but no, you won't have to marry anyone."

  "But you just said–"

  "I just told you about the deal we have with them," I cut her off as if I didn’t even hear her. "The Scivola family expects us to bring them a bride, but we never had any intention to subject our Lailah to that. This mission is all about pretending. The wedding will never take place."

  I pause, giving her time to process what I just told her, and to ask questions, because I'm sure she's still overflowing with curiosity.

  But she remains quiet, lowering her eyes while she swallows the last bite of her sandwich. She looks confused and lost.

  "I don't get this," she whispers. "They think Lailah will marry one of them, but she won't? What will happen instead? How do you even simulate something like that?"

  "Trust me, it's for your own good to know as little as possible," I insist. "Right now, all you have to worry about is becoming as much like Lailah as you possibly can. You have to learn a lot, and you have a ton of catching up to do. Like I said, she's been preparing for this for years."

  The girl's eyes are heavy with sadness when she looks up at me.

  "Or you'll kill my parents." Her whisper is laced with a pain so deep that even I am not immune to the effect of it.

  I nod, hoping that she won't try to dig any deeper at this point. It's hard enough to get her to play along this far. I'm sure it would be downright impossible if she knew the whole story. Lailah's job is not an easy one, even for a girl who was willing and ready to go through with it.

  It'll be nothing short of a miracle if this girl can pull it off.

  And I'll do everything in my power to make this miracle become a reality, not only for my sake. It's not just my own life that hangs on this, but that of my men as well.

  And now, hers. Her attractive appearance alone makes it easy to be as devoted to ensuring her safety as I was to Lailah’s.

  "Won't they notice?" she wonders out loud. "I mean, as much as I may look like this Lailah, I'm not her twin. How can you be so sure those Scivola people can be so easily fooled?"

  I nod along as she speaks, relieved at the simplicity of her question. "They haven't seen Lailah in years. She hasn't been in Rhode Island since the one time they laid eyes on her, and we never invited them up here."

  "Rhode Island?" she repeats, looking at me as if I'd just spilled a wonderful secret to her.

  "That's where they operate."

  Our eyes lock onto each other, her gaze wide and hopeful, while I try to figure out what brought out this excited expression in her.

  "So, I'll go back to Rhode Island for this?"

  Back to Rhode Island?

  Then the realization dawns on me.

  "That's where you're from," I say, cautious to phrase it as a statement and not a question. I'm supposed to know where she's from because I threatened her family. How could I pose a threat if I don't even know that basic detail?

  She nods, lowering her gaze to her lap where she nervously fidgets with her fingers. The notion of being sent back home changes something in her. I can almost see it unfold, the weight being replaced by a newfound determination to do what she has to do, if it means she'll be sent back to her home state.

  It's a start. The confusion remains. It underlines the expression on her pretty face when she takes a deep breath as if to prepare herself for the daunting task ahead.

  Chapter 8

  Malia

  This can't be a coincidence, can it? Of all places, they are going to send me back home to help them complete their mission?

  Once again, I'm feeling fooled by karma. Or fate.

  I can't ignore the fact that I will be able to get home, and the sooner I'm willing to cooperate and do as he tells me, the sooner it will be. Not that this means I'll be safe and sound, back in Newport, back with my family and the only friend I ever really had.

  But at least I'll be close. Rhode Island is small and I've lived there all my life. Just the prospect of being back in my home state fills me with hope and an elation that I wasn’t sure that I would ever feel again.

  "So...," I say softly, finally gathering the courage to speak. "Where do we start?"

  I look up at him then, my lips pressed together and my eyes narrowed with earnest resolution. I hope he doesn’t see through my charade of self-confidence and determination and call my bluff.

  He studies my curiously, visibly puzzled by my sudden resolve and willingness to cooperate. And for a moment I fear that he doesn't believe it. That he'll laugh at me, or worse, lay another hand on me, choking or touching me in private places just to intimidate me and make me say things I don't mean. After all, who am I kidding? I am no superwoman.

  I'm just a scared little small town girl, away from home for the very first time in her life and trapped in a situation that is worse than anything she could have ever imagined.

  But I want to be more than that. I so desperately need to be the tough and composed woman who can survive this mess.

  Based on what I've learned from him so far, that small deed alone will be incredibly hard to achieve.

  I need to be alert. Observant. Calm. I can't let my fright turn into panic and cause me to become helpless.

  I can't.

  I repeat that mantra inside my head, urging myself to take calming breaths. I can’t afford for my breathing to turn erratic again, betraying my will to appear strong.

  His eyes are fixed on me, watching, assessing, and penetrating my mind in a way that threatens to crack my facade.

  "Where do we start?" he repeats my question, adding a sinister sneer that freezes the blood in my veins. Why does he have this effect on me? He didn't even hurt me. It's the simple threat alone that keeps me on edge, always on alert to receive a blow that never strikes.

  "How about a shower?" he suggests, his eyes caressing every inch of my body as I sit with my hands and ankles tied before him, unable to escape his scrutinizing gaze or even change my position in the slightest. "And some fresh clothes."

  "I don't have any."

  "We do," he says as he gets up from where he has been sitting this entire time on the bed. "And don't worry. They'll fit."

  "Because they're Lailah's?"

  The question slips out before I can stop myself, and again, he makes sure to make me regret speaking out of turn. He moves abruptly, leaning down grabbing a fistful of hair and yanking my head back into my neck. I yelp out in surprise when I feel his other hand right below my chin, drawing along the skin on my collarbone and removing the strap of my dress. He pulls it down over my shoulder, exposing my right breast. He doesn’t waste a moment before repeating the same thing on the other side. I curse myself for not wearing a bra underneath the evening gown. I lift my bound hands on instinct, trying to cover my nakedness, but he slaps them away.

  "Don't you fucking dare!" he hisses. "You need to remember your place, girl."

  "I do!" I insist, my lower lip trembling. I feel such shame to have such an intimate part of my body exposed to the eyes of a stranger.

  My humiliation is amplified when he squeezes my right nipple between his fingers. He pinches it so hard that it hurts, and I shriek out in pain.

  "Why are you doing this?" I plead, my eyes watering. "What does this have to with an-"

  "Hush!" he cuts me off. "I told you, you'll have to become as close to Lailah as possible. And you know what...."

  He pauses, his fingers still closed around my nipple as he leans down to my left ear, placing his lips so close that I can feel his warm breath when he whispers, "Our Lailah was a seductive little minx, and I need you to be the same. She knows how to please a man, and you'll need to learn how to do it, too."

  A lonely tear rolls down my cheek. I try to fathom what he's saying, as the question replays over and over again inside my head.

  "Why?"

  I cry out when he twists my nipple again harshly between his fingers.

  "Because I say so," he hisses. "And if you defy me or question me again, you'll be in a lot more trouble than you are already. Understand?"

  I hurry to nod, blinking as more hot tears start streaming down my face. He lets go of my nipple. I sigh in relief, but find myself bewildered at the way my heart continues throbbing even after he moves away from me.

  There it is again. That weird feeling I had before, when his hand closed around my throat.

  I remain in that confused state as I watch him untie my ankles. He casts me a menacing look, a silent warning not to test him. The thought of kicking him in the face has occurred to me, but I know it would only aggravate an already hostile situation. The same goes for attempting to run away. How far would I even get? Would I even reach the door before he caught me?

  I suddenly wonder if my friend Liliane contemplated the same things when she first woke up in that basement cell? Is this the same type of thing she went through? I chose not to learn about that part of her ordeal, but right now I regret not knowing about it. Maybe if I did, it would somehow help me now. Maybe I would know what to do, what to think, how to feel?

  "Get up!” he orders tersely.

  He takes a step back from the bed, beckoning me with a wave of his hand to emphasize his demand.

  I glare up at him, hesitating for a split second before obeying his order, my lips pressed into a thin line. Awkwardly I rise off the bed. The wooden floor is surprisingly cold on my naked feet, and I start shivering. Standing next to him, I’m self-conscious of my dress that still hangs low on my hips, only held up by my tied hands. My tits remain exposed to the icy air of the room—and his expressionless but penetrating gaze. My arms twitch with the need to cover myself, but his strict scrutiny prevents me from acting on the impulse.

  He's towering before me, his stance somehow even more domineering than it was before. He must be at least a head taller than me.

  I sway away when he bends down in my direction, lifting a finger in front of my face.

  "No funny business," he warns. "You scream, I'll gag you. You try to run, I'll beat the shit out of you. Understand?"

  I nod, swallowing thickly and my heart hammering as I tense up, holding back a fresh wave of tears.

  "It's no use anyway," he adds absently. "No one would hear you. And there's no one out there who'd help you anyway. So don't do something you will regret."

  "Yes."

  My voice is weak, but I force my spirit to remain unwavering.

  I can't let fear win.

  I can't let fear win.

  He reaches for the rope around my wrists, yanking at it and forcing me to stumble forward as we head for the door.

  Chapter 9

  Nate

  She cowers behind me as I lead her from the room. The bedroom I chose for her is located right across from the brightly lit kitchen, where Mike, Daveed and I had been busy all morning planning what ammunition we need and gathering together the remnants of our supplies. We're short, so both Mike and Daveed are currently out running errands to change that. I deliberately chose to wait until they were gone because I hate parading her in front of their eyes.

  And I don't want them to see me with her.

  "What's your name?" she asks shyly as I’m leading her down the corridor to the bathroom. She casts curious glances around us as we move, her eyes lingering on the kitchen as we walk by it, and I can see her mild shock upon seeing the weapons and ammunition spread out on the table.

  "Nate."

  "Nate," she repeats solemnly, all the while her concerned eyes darting back and forth between me and where I am gripping her bound wrists.

  "My name is Malia."

  "I know, you told me."

  "I wasn't sure if you heard," she murmurs, a shadow cast over her face. "You seemed very insistent on calling me Lailah."

  "You'll have to learn to respond when you hear someone say that name," I tell her. "But I'm not going to call you that. Not as long as she's still alive."

  Her eyes widen as she looks up at me. "Is she going to die soon?"

  I only offer her a silent nod in response. I don't want to talk about Lailah, not right now. It's too painful, and I'm not ready to let this girl see even an ounce of weakness from me.

  "I know you're not Lailah," I say, my voice strained. We come to a halt in front of the bathroom door and I pull her forward, my eyes locking onto hers. "Believe me, I know that, but I have no intention of getting to know you, whoever the hell you are. You'll be Onyx to me, nothing else. Understood?"

  She frowns at me, and I can see her fighting to remain quiet, not to object to my comment. But she's smart and she’s learning, and eventually she finds it within herself to simply nod. Her defiant expression is replaced with determination.

  I've seen that look before. I know what it means. She has no intention of carrying out the mission to the best of her abilities. She has no interest in obeying or pleasing me.

  All she wants is to find a way out, a way to break free. She's staying calm and observant because she's waiting for the right opportunity.

  Well, good luck with that little girl. Because I'm not going to let that happen.

  She has nowhere to run and there's no one around for miles who could help her anyway. And if she did decide to make a run for it, I would most likely catch her before she could even set a foot outside this house. However, I'm in no mood for risks, and I won't be leaving her side for even a second from now on.

  She shudders when I push her through the bathroom door, her shoulders inching up to her ears as she takes in the unwelcoming room. The tiles and appliances are outdated, mold creeping through the tiling in several places. I don’t blame her for being disgusted, because I share the sentiment. This place is a hole, very different to the environment I’m used to—and I can’t wait to get out of here.

  She flinches when I close the door behind us, turning the lock right away. Fearful doubt is evident on her face when she turns around to look at me.

  "I'm staying," I answer her unspoken question. "You can't afford to be shy, Onyx."

  It's the first time I've addressed her with that name, a title I chose for our mission because it reflects the black depth of that gorgeous pair of eyes I fell for years ago. I could never question Scivola's desire for Lailah because I readily saw her worth just as much as they did.

  Things change, of course, and I fucking hope to God I'm not dumb enough to commit the same mistake I did back then.

  It's easier with the girl who is staring back at me through those black onyx gems right now. Despite all the physical similarities, it's easy to see the person behind those eyes. And that person couldn't be any more different from Lailah than she is.

  "You're... staying?"

  This is the most terrified she's looked since she first woke up. Silly little girl.

  I cross my arms in front of my chest, chuckling mildly as I shake my head.

  "Get to it, we don't have all day."

  "I don't want to, if—"

  She stops mid-sentence when I leap forward, yanking at the rope binding her wrists. My motions evoke a pinched shriek from her throat and she whimpers when I start tugging at the knots, loosening them with such quick movements that she's left stunned after her hands are freed. She rubs at her tender wrists, while I wind the rope up in my hand. I step closer and lean down to her, noticing another difference between her and Lailah.

  She's much shorter.

  "You go and take that fucking shower. Right. Now." My words are hissed with such force that she cowers as if she's being beaten. "Or I'll do it for you."

  A gasp flies from her lips at my last words.

  "That's right. I will rip that dress off you, and I'll soap and scrub every last inch of that tight little body of yours," I threaten. "Would you prefer that?"

  She shakes her head violently as she backs away from me. I don't know what she's so shy about anyway. She's pretty much naked already, the dress hanging loosely around her hips and her small tits exposed. Her nipples are hard and taut, most likely from the cold—or the pinching they endured earlier.

  I want to believe that it could be the latter.

  She averts her eyes, her attention following the motion as she slowly pulls her dress down over her hips until it drops to the floor, pooling around her naked feet. There's a questioning look as she stands before me in nothing but her plain, black panties with no lace or details to lure a man's gaze.