Untamed Devotion

by Danielle Stewart

  Monroe moved toward the patio and pushed the doors open, letting the night breeze in. “You implied you were trapped here. Is it chained to the bed type of thing, or less literal?”

  “It’s a systematic entrapment,” she said, her eyes glazing over as she stared at the wall. “It starts at the sales pitch, the recruitment. Have you noticed sixty percent of our staff are not from here?”

  “I hadn’t hammered out the number exactly, but I did notice there seemed to be a disproportionate number of people from elsewhere.”

  “And you’ve been to island resorts before, does that seem normal to you?” Aria eyed him as he thought it through.

  “Labor costs to bring people from the U.S. would be astronomical. It’s common in a place like this to have your front-end staff brought in, but otherwise you’d be paying a fortune for something you can get locally. It would be impossible.”

  “Unless you pay them less than what you could hire a local person for,” Aria challenged.

  “That’s impossible too,” Monroe argued. “There’s no way they could build sixty percent of their staff on that model. You can’t convince that many people to work for such a low wage.”

  “It’s their pitch,” Aria replied, resting her chin in her hands. “When you find desperate people, you can convince them of almost anything. A wordy contract is easy to sign when you feel you don’t have any other options.”

  “What desperate circumstances were you in?” Monroe asked, a punch of worry hitting his gut. The idea of Aria in some sort of trouble made his jaw clench.

  “My story doesn’t matter. There are others compelling enough to make the point. They go after people who are in the United States past their visas. They tell them ICE is on their trail, but they can give them an alternative. They sell the resort as a kind of haven.”

  “If the alternative is deportation back to a place they were trying to get away from, then I can think of worse places to end up.” He waved around the room and she rolled her eyes.

  “Because they end up in a room like this? I mentioned my bunk earlier. That isn’t like some campy way to describe our living accommodations. It’s an actual bunk. A bed on top of someone else’s bed. And those lucky people,” Aria let the sharp edge of her voice flare up, “have family in the states they love and family back where they’re from. They have none of that here. And the path to citizenship they were promised mysteriously disappears.”

  “That’s shady,” Monroe agreed, but stopped short of pretending that was enough of an issue to warrant more outrage.

  “Then there’s the people in trouble, the ones looking for refuge and safety. They didn’t know they’d be working day and night. They didn’t know they’d be stuck here.”

  “Stuck?” Monroe asked, trying to stuff down the skepticism. There were circumstances that would have people feeling stuck. But these were adults, and he highly doubted anyone was truly here against their will.

  “It’s a systematic process they have,” Aria explained with a humorless little chuckle. “They pay under a living wage. Then if you make a mistake or you break something there are demerits.”

  “Like school?”

  “Like prison,” she corrected. “They add more hours of work. They dock your pay. They wave the contract you signed out of desperation in your face every time someone decides to stand up to them. The working conditions are downright deplorable, and there’s no recourse.”

  “Whistle-blowers,” Monroe said, knowing how dismissive he sounded. The information was valuable, but he’d learned a long time ago you had to scrub all the emotion out of things and find the bare bones facts. “If this has been going on as long as you say then there would be whistle-blowers.”

  “That suggestion tells me how little time you’ve spent in oppression. The idea of whistle-blowing requires people to come out in the light of day,” Aria said with a long sigh. “Circumstances that brought many of them here would keep them from ever outing themselves or this place. The powerful people target with precision. They know what they’re doing.”

  “I’m sure the resort owners wouldn’t leave themselves open to that liability. The contracts were likely written in a way to protect them, and it’s not like anyone was forced to sign them. Similar to the mortgage crisis. People signed up for mortgages they didn’t understand. But that doesn’t absolve them from the commitment they made.”

  Aria looked on with such disappointment Monroe felt heat rise in his cheeks. “What are we doing here?” she asked, clearly not wanting his answer. “You acted like this was important, and now you’re dismissing everything I say.”

  “I’m not dismissing,” he corrected. “I’m hearing you. It’s how my brain works. I need to process. But I can hear how serious this is.” He closed in on her and sat down on the couch. They were close, his arm against hers and her flowery scent wafted through the air. He still didn’t know what kind of trouble she’d been in to get herself here. It was nagging at him. “I’ll look into this. I can dig into the international labor laws. If you can get me copies of some contracts people signed, I can go over those too. Do you think anyone would want to talk to me more about their particular story? You are tight-lipped about your story. I’ll need to hear directly from some people who are willing to talk.”

  “You’d do that?” Aria asked, her face lighting with excitement. “I can probably get a few people to talk to you. They’ll be skeptical, but if I tell them they can trust you, I think they will.”

  “That would be helpful,” he said, rolling the ache out of his neck. “Are you sure you aren’t going to tell me why you’re here? You’re being very mysterious.”

  “Sorry,” she said flatly.

  “Mysterious is good,” he replied coolly, eyeing her with a grin. “You’ve piqued my interest though. It must have been awful to have you this far away for so long. The good news is I’m not going to leave you hanging. When this is all said and done I’ll make sure you can go back home.”

  “I can’t,” she said, her shoulders slouching. “I can’t go back. But the people I put you in touch with, the ones who can get you copies of their contracts and tell you their stories, can you help them?”

  “I’m sure I can come up with something. But that doesn’t answer my question. Why can’t you go home?”

  “We should get some rest,” Aria deflected, yawning to add effect. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “How long have you been here?” he asked, his voice softening some.

  “Seven years,” she answered, pushing her chin up defiantly, as though to tell him it had been long, but it hadn’t broken her.

  He drew a deep breath and calculated the odds she would open to him. He wanted to know the reason she felt desperate enough to sign her life away and why she was so certain she couldn’t go home. Tracing the fine line of her clenched jaw he realized she wouldn’t give him anything tonight. “Let’s indulge,” he announced, hopping to his feet. “It’s probably been a while since you’ve done anything wildly impulsive or simply because it felt good.”

  “That’s an understatement,” she agreed, her eyes dancing as she tried to read his face to ensure he was serious. “What are you proposing we indulge in?”

  “Everything and anything you want. I’m not going to stop until I see you smile and light up that spectacular face.”

  Chapter 8

  Aria’s breath caught in her chest when someone came knocking on Monroe’s hotel room door. “Who’s that?” she asked in a whisper.

  “I ordered a few things while you were freshening up.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

  “Room service?” she gasped, suddenly skittering around like a frightened deer. “They can’t see me here. I can’t be seen like this.”

  “It’s fine,” Monroe said waving her off. “You’re here with me.”

  Before he could reach the door she slid toward the bathroom and pressed herself to the wall as she pushed the door closed with her foot.

  “Go
od evening sir,” she heard a familiar voice accompanied by the clinking of a room-service cart rattling its way in. It was Tobin, the sweet young guy who’d arrived last year all wide-eyed and excited for his adventure. It was short-lived, just like everyone else’s. “I have everything you requested here. Is there more I can do for you tonight?”

  “I can’t think of a single other thing I’d like,” Monroe said confidently.

  “If you do, don’t hesitate to call,” Tobin said.

  Aria could picture him in the doorway waiting for the tip she was sure Monroe would give. What he and the rest of the guests didn’t know about their generous tips was they weren’t kept by the staff. Another powerful clause in the contract.

  When the door closed, it was Monroe’s laugh that filled the room. “I haven’t had a girl hiding like that since ninth grade when Kelly Swanson used to climb in my window to make out and my mom was coming down the hallway.” Monroe pushed open the bathroom door and continued laughing. “The coast is clear.”

  “It’s not funny,” she protested, covering her face with her hands. Now that she was actually in the presidential suite with this gorgeous man she realized what most people would think. She couldn’t blame them either. The idea of Monroe pressing her to a wall and lifting her from the ground as he found a dozen ways to pleasure her ran through her mind every few minutes. “That’s Tobin. He’s a really sweet kid, and if he saw me in here, he’d think the worst of me.”

  “Well I have a lot of things to take your mind off that,” Monroe promised, taking her hand in his. It was a jolt to feel his skin, his warmth, but she didn’t pull away. Monroe was the promise of something happening. Maybe it would be something wonderful. Maybe something awful. But after seven years she was just ready for some kind of commotion. And this man was commotion.

  “I’ve ordered caviar, champagne, chocolate-covered everything. I had the spa send up exotic lotions, hot stones, a Dead Sea face mask, and something called a sugar scrub, which I assume you know what to do with. There’s a detox wrap, and I’m not sure how it works, but I could have used this in Vegas last week. We also have meditation mats and music. Essentially you’re going to be thoroughly relaxed, hydrated, and possibly a little tipsy.”

  “I can’t accept all of this,” she said, the knot in her stomach tightening as she took a quick inventory. “I know exactly how much that little tube of lip hydration costs. I know what they charge for those stupid hot stones. It’s all too much.”

  “Aria,” Monroe said, skillfully popping the cork from the champagne and filling two glasses, “you’re six years and eleven months overdue for some indulgence. We can spend the next hour arguing over how you think it’s too much and how I think that’s crazy, or you can drink this while I start a fire and put on this creepy gong and harp music that is supposed to make us relax.”

  “Gongs and harps?” Aria giggled, taking the glass from him. “I guess I could have one glass. And maybe a chocolate-covered strawberry.”

  “You have to promise not to keep some kind of mental tab. The contacts you’re going to make for me, and the information I’ll gather with your help—it’s invaluable. You don’t owe me; if anything I’ll owe you more than this measly hotel stuff.”

  “I used this cream once,” Aria admitted, picking up the gold and red tube and eyeing it as though it meant a hell of a lot more than just some cosmetic treatment. “They keep it under lock and key. Only two people on spa staff can get it for the guests. I’ve never seen a whole tube brought up to a guest room before.”

  “I have some pull,” Monroe said, coming up behind her as she continued to spin the tube around in her hands.

  “One day I was on a double shift, and I had to cover for someone at the spa. I was showing a guest to her massage room. She got up on the table and I let her know someone would be in any minute, and then I saw it. This tube sitting on the tray by the table. She’d clearly ordered it for her treatment. She had her face planted in the massage table and I figured no one would ever notice if I took a dab and rubbed in on my hands.”

  “And you did?”

  “Yep,” Aria admitted bashfully. “And my hands had never felt that good. I always thought what they charged for this stuff was ridiculous. But then I realized it’s worth every penny.”

  Monroe put both hand on her shoulder and leaned down by her ear. “Tonight you can put that on from head to toe. It’s all yours.”

  “I . . . there’s no way I could,” Aria stuttered.

  “I’d be happy to apply it for you,” he offered.

  “But it’s so expensive,” she protested.

  “There’s that wasting time game again. I’m going to win, so don’t bother. Run a hot bath. Use every single lotion and balm they sent up. The mask. The scrub. Whatever all these things are for. Use them.”

  “And you’re just going to sit here while I’m in the bath?” she asked, nearly choking on the lump in her throat. His whole body was pressed against her back now, and she could feel his excitement.

  “I’ll do anything you want me to,” he whispered in a husky voice as he pushed her hair off her shoulder ran his finger up her neck.

  “There might be some places I can’t reach,” she replied, her voice trembling. She could hardly believe she was saying this to a man like Monroe. “Maybe you can help.”

  “Take a bath,” he ordered, pressing his wet lips to her neck, then nibbling seductively. “Then come out here, and I won’t miss a spot.”

  “This wasn’t part of our arrangement,” she said, spinning to face him, but staying pressed so close she could feel his chest rising with each breath. “This isn’t part of the plan.”

  “No plan. No arrangement.” He slid a hand down her back and cupped her ass as he forcibly closed the tiny gap that had remained between them. “This is indulging. I’ll start the fire. You fill the bath.”

  Her nipples were pulsing in tight peaks as they pressed to his solid broad chest. His firm grip on her ass didn’t loosen, nor did his intense stare break from her face. Slipping a hand to her hair, he brushed the fallen pieces away from her eyes. “Did I judge you right?” she asked with a gulp. “Will you hurt me?”

  Monroe’s stare faltered, just for a beat, but long enough to see something earnest flash in his eyes. “Nothing you feel tonight will be anything less than unbridled pleasure, having you scream out for more.”

  “I don’t mean . . .” she stuttered, her eyes shooting toward the floor.

  “I know what you mean,” he said, his finger curling under her chin and tilting her head so her eyes were back on him. “If you’re with me, you won’t be hurt by anyone.”

  Truth. Elusive. Ever-changing. Yet in his words she could see the truth as plain as she could see the room around them. Monroe’s large arms folded over her. His lips crushed down on hers and whatever willpower she’d been clamoring to hold on to washed away with the flick of his tongue on hers. Pulling away suddenly, Monroe drew a deep breath. “Fill the bath. I’ll start the fire.”

  Chapter 9

  Soaking in the tub, breathing in the lavender vapors, Aria tried desperately to keep her head straight. But the question that kept rising inside her was, why the hell now? Why couldn’t she leave this bath, walk soaking wet to the fire, and give herself over to Monroe. She deserved the indulgence. She deserved sheer pleasure.

  Finally finding the courage, she released the plug from the tub and drew a deep breath. Her legs quivered as she stepped from the tub and quickly patted herself dry. She decided she’d ditch the towel. Parading about naked wasn’t normally her style, but it had been so long since she’d felt desire. She was tingling, aching to be touched.

  Monroe seemed a capable man. More than just talk and bragging. The one kiss they’d shared earlier, the way he worked his tongue around her mouth, made her confident that if she was willing to jump into his promise of pleasure, she wouldn’t regret it.

  She pulled open the bathroom door to find dozens of candles lit on every op
en surface. Wax streamed down and pooled in places she knew someone would have to clean tomorrow. But she pushed that thought from her mind. She wasn’t a part of the staff right now. She was his.

  “Damn,” Monroe panted, his eyes wide as he took in every inch of her naked body. “Get over here.”

  “It was a good bath,” she said through her smile and a light blush of her cheeks. “A very good bath.”

  He was sitting on the floor by the fire. He’d moved the table out of the way and spread one of the lush velour blankets out for them.

  “I thought you might have a chill,” he said as he grabbed the metal poker and stoked the fire, sending sparks fluttering upward. “I’ll warm you.”

  “I feel silly being the only one without clothes,” she said, considering racing back to the bathroom for the towel.

  “You’ll feel anything but silly in a second,” he promised as he reached out and took her hand, pulling her closer. She turned so her bare ass faced the fire, and her skin heated immediately. Before she could protest the extreme heat, his tongue plunged against her folds, lapping frantically at her sweet core. Aria called out wildly as she tipped her head back with pleasure. On sheer instinct she grabbed handfuls of his hair and gave in to the heat from the fire as well as the hot pulsing bolts of ecstasy he provided.

  She breathed out his name, feeling like her legs might give out any second. His finger plunged deep inside her and his pace frenzied, matching her rapid breath, and she cried out. Her core tightened around his finger and pulsed with the waves of her climax.

  “Monroe,” she gasped, as her knees buckled, and she fell into his waiting arms. He stripped quickly, and through her haze she helped, pulling at his clothes until they were thrown aside. Aria’s smile was a simple reflex to the sight of his fully hard excitement.

  Monroe grabbed her waist and laid her down, and before she could catch her breath he drove himself deep inside her. There had been an emptiness, both physical and in her heart, for so long. The way he’d filled her, his eyes locked with hers, felt like she’d been pulled from an icy lake and warmed by a thick, plush blanket.