Free Masters at Arms by Kallypso Masters Page B

eyes. The
penthouse suite. Familiar. She’d been here many times in the last
year.
    Then the memory of her last two clients
returned.
    Ropes. Quirt. Electricity.
    Each time she’d managed to separate her mind
from the clients’ horrific scene, the two sadists had become more
relentless in torturing her with whatever device they were using at
the time. Sometimes two at once. They seemed determined to keep her
mind emotionally invested in the scene, ruthlessly pulling her back
into her body to feel each blow, each infliction of pain.
    Then one of the men had pulled out his smart
phone, spread her private folds, and taken several photos of her
shame. They had known she’d been branded. Heat suffused her face.
She closed her eyes.
    What now? Lyle and her father would be
furious. She’d never lost them a client before. Last night, she’d
lost two. Her punishment would be severe. She opened her eyes and
glanced toward the door. Where had Lyle gone? When would he be
back? She supposed her father would send a car for her. They knew
they didn’t have to worry about her running away. The threat of
living a hellish life as a street whore would keep her tethered in
her velvet chains.
    Savannah began to shake.
    “Shhh. It’s okay.” The man on the
bed—Damián—reached out a hand to her, but she pulled her body away.
He let his hand come to rest on the mattress between them, as if he
were training a dog to get used to him by small degrees. His brown
skin contrasted sharply with the white sheets. Exotic. So different
from the men who could afford her.
    No, he wasn’t her client. That she knew. So
who was he? She shivered and returned his gaze, seeing regret,
pity. She didn’t want or need anyone’s pity.
    “I don’t know you.”
    “I work here at the hotel.”
    Oh, Lord! The bus boy! She remembered him
from the restaurant. How had she come to be in bed with him? Had
anything happened? Clearly, she’d zoned out. Had he forced himself
on her while her mind was out of her body?
    No. The concern in the man’s warm-chocolate
eyes told her he wasn’t a threat. She didn’t think so, anyway. His
pupils were so large, his eyes almost looked black. Her instincts
regarding men were more than a little warped. Still, something
began to melt inside her. The image of him barging into the room
last night carrying a…a fire extinguisher? She tried to keep from
smiling, but couldn’t help herself. So incongruous with the type of
rescue she’d needed.
    Damián raised an eyebrow, then smiled back.
His white teeth against a bronzed face sent a flock of swallows to
flight inside her stomach. She giggled.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “You, barging in here last night carrying
that ridiculous fire extinguisher.”
    “ Someone yelled ‘fire.’”
    “Well, I read once that no one comes when you
yell rape.”
    His face grew serious. “They didn’t—?”
    She shook her head. “No. Against the rules.”
Tears stung the backs of her eyelids. “No one’s ever come to my
rescue before.” She turned away. Don’t let him get inside your
head, Savi . This stranger was even more dangerous than the
sadists. He made her feel vulnerable. She needed to keep her wits
about her if she was going to keep the walls of her fortress
intact.
    Until she could get home and put her final
plan into motion, she’d do well to remember that men weren’t safe
or honorable.
    But Damián had held her for hours without
taking advantage of her. Amazing man.
    She looked back at him. “Thank you.”
    “ De nada .”
    Then she realized what his actions had cost
him. “Oh, God. Your job.”
    A bus boy probably needed every paycheck just
to survive. She assessed him. He wore a polo uniform shirt—which he
filled out better than any polo she’d ever seen—and inexpensive
black jeans.
    He shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. But she
doubted he was truly that nonchalant. He’d be fired, if he hadn’t
been already, all because of her. Unfair. Yet another victim of