Fuck, I hate him. I don’t know him, but I hate him. He’s like a lifeboat in the distance, leisurely drifting this way, but I’m already drowning, and he must know it.

How pathetic do I look right now?

Anger heats my skin, melding with so much grief that it’s a confusing combination.

Don’t go.

I hate you.

Help me.

Kill yourself.

Confusing. Just so fucking confusing.

“Okay,” he says, turning his back to me.

“Why are you here?” my voice cracks.

He sighs and turns to face me. His palm extends, gesturing toward the meager offering. “I thought you might be hungry.”

“I’m not stupid.” I take a breath and try to make my voice steady. “I know this is some kind of fucked-up game you’re playing with me. If you felt bad for me, you’d bring more than a granola bar.”

He frowns then glances down at the offering like he’s just now considering that. If he’s acting, he’s doing a good job.

Lucian was able to subdue the other women. He was able to confuse them, just like I’m confused now. Is that what this guy’s trying to do to me? Subdue me, tame me, trick me like they’ve tricked the others?

Who is he?

And if he is just trying to pacify me… why is it working so well?

“Would you like something else to eat?” he asks, his voice deceptively innocent. “We could go upstairs. I think there’s plenty of dinner left over. Margarette made roasted duck.”

My stomach twists, and I try not to let the pain show on my face. He gave me another piece of information with that, although I’m not sure it was worth the imagery that makes my mouth water.

It’s nighttime.

“And what would we do after?” I ask, injecting venom into my words. “I’m assuming you’d expect me to sleep with you.”

He raises a brow like I’m being crazy. Like I’m not a prisoner on an island of sex slaves.

“I want to phrase this as delicately as I can because I’d hate for you to take offense, but you aren’t exactly in the best shape to be lustworthy. I think you could use a few good meals and at least one good night’s sleep. A shower wouldn’t hurt.”

“So that I can make myself ‘lustworthy?’ ”

“No, so that you don’t die.”

My lungs seize at that. I know it’s stupid because, of course, they’ll eventually kill me. It’s been a struggle determining which fate is worse, dying or giving in. I still don’t know, but hearing the possibility of them killing me out loud makes it scarier somehow.

“The human body can survive about two months without food, as long as it’s hydrated. That’s with out the little bit of food I’m bringing you. You have plenty of time to continue your hunger strike if that’s what you want, but I’d suggest ending it sooner rather than later. You’re getting dangerously close to mental health damage you won’t be able to come back from. Lucian is forgiving, but he has his limits, and a slave who starts rubbing feces on the walls is one of them. You understand what I’m saying?”

I look down at my knees as my mind goes to the food mere feet away. I could devour it in a single bite. I just don’t want to do it in front of Mr. A.

“I’m not on a hunger strike. I’m being starved.”

“You’re beingstubborn,” Mr. A counters. He lifts his eyes and points to the camera overlooking the cell. “You have the option of going upstairs with the rest of the whores anytime you choose. Just say the word.”

“Don’t call us that,” I snarl, my eyes narrowing.

Mr. A sighs like my dignity is a nuisance. “Staying down here is a choice, Ivy. It’s not one anyone wants you to make. Pitying yourself isn’t doing you any good, and neither is being prideful.”

“If I go up there…” I inhale a shaky breath. “We both know what happens.”

“I know what happens. You seem a bit hazy about it.”

“Naomi told me. You force women to have sex with residents like you, and then you sell them to the first person who’s interested. Lucian even told me that, so stop trying to bullshit me.”

Mr. A stares at me without saying anything. For a moment, it’s a welcome stare down, but then my skin begins to crawl.

“I’m going to ask you a question that you aren’t going to like. But I want you to put that fighting spirit of yours aside when I’m gone and truly think about it. Okay?”

I press my lips together and remain still.

“You’re on an island with more wealth than you could know what to do with. You live in a mansion beside the ocean. You’ll eat great food, wear designer clothes, pursue as many hobbies as you want, and never have to worry about anything for the rest of your life. Someone will always take care of your every need, forever. And yes, in return, you’re expected to meet the physical needs of those who take care of you. You’re expected to be obedient.”

“Is your question coming anytime soon?”

His face sobers, and there’s no trace of empathy left in his expression. I was right… He doesn’t feel bad for me. He’s as vile as all the other men here, malevolent eyes or not. What did I expect him to do? Save me? Understand? Why? Because he brings me fuckingcrumbs?

My face heats with fresh anger, and it’s good because it distracts me from my sinking heart.

“How different do you think this is from the life you’d chosen for yourself?”

My jaw goes slack, and my chest aches. I’m stunned. Not because he knows more about me than I’d realized. Not because I can’t believe he’d have the audacity to ask me that.

I’m stunned because instantly, I know what he means. And finally, I know why they picked me to come here.

Because they think I’m a gold digger. And they see this as a gold digger’s paradise. I told saltyshells—Lucian—everything, everything that Roger put me through. So not only am I a gold digger in their eyes, but I’m also a doormat.

They probably had no idea I’d fight back.

“I won’t be back,” Mr. A says, his face hard. He turns and takes a few steps before looking over his shoulder. “I hope to see you around, Ivy.”

With that, he’s gone. And for the first time, I don’t hide my tears. They flow down my face freely, and a sob barrels up my chest.

Finally, I break.