Dollars (Dollar #2)

by Pepper Winters

  Ouch.

  The door smashed inward.

  Elder stood vibrating with livid impatience. “I told you to fucking bang on the wall.”

  I was…I tried…

  I hung my head.

  He strode forward, towering over me.

  Every instinct tensed for a kick, a wallop—something I was used to for disobeying. Instead, he sank to his haunches and tipped my chin up with his finger. “You’re mine now, Pimlico, and I’ll take much better care of you than he ever did, but if you continue to defy me, if you fight me at every turn, we’ll have a fucking war on our hands, and I’ll win. Got it?”

  I closed my eyes, but he shook my jaw until I reopened them.

  “Understand?”

  There was no urge to nod this time; it seemed anger elicited the opposite of me. Be nice and ask softly, and the need to reply became almost unbearable. Yell and scream, and I shut down—no longer able to hear questions…just rage.

  Elder breathed heavily. “You’ll learn soon enough. You’ll see.”

  Scooping me up, he carried me back to bed.

  My heart hyperventilated, intensely aware of his bulk trapping me. Placing me back into the sheets, he removed his touch as soon as my weight shifted, as if he couldn’t stand to hold me any longer than necessary.

  I smarted at the rebuttal even while my body breathed a sigh of relief.

  Once I settled, sleepiness crept like poisonous fog over me. Turned out, I didn’t have as much energy as I thought.

  His voice lost its bite, slipping into molasses. “You’d better get used to invasion of privacy, Pim. I stole you because I want to know you. I want to uncover what you keep hidden. Give me what I want, and this will be a lot easier on you. Don’t, and you’ll rue the day you refused.”

  Without a backward glance, he strode away.

  TWENTY-NINE HOURS had passed since I’d brought aboard a stowaway.

  In that time, I’d washed away the death of two more victims and did my best to justify the shame compounding deep inside.

  For twenty-nine hours, I’d stayed away because I had no choice.

  At Alrik’s, I’d been allowed one of everything. One kiss, one taste, one touch. For an addict like me, it was the only thing that helped.

  I was allowed to sample the vintage, so I didn’t consume the bottle.

  Pim didn’t work that way.

  Every sip left me wanting more and more and fucking more. Her silent strength undermined my hard-earned calmness, hurtling me back to the days when I first stepped from the sewer and claimed my stolen throne.

  Focus.

  Work.

  Don’t let your thoughts stray.

  The instructions I religiously followed were easily whispered but hard to follow. I turned to another method (one I seldom used) to quarantine my wayward thoughts. However, nothing could prevent the repetition of how warm her fragile form had been when I’d carried her to the bathroom. How my heart coughed in panic and salvation from having her so close and dependant.

  She’d almost cracked my self-control.

  Michaels is right.

  I shouldn’t have brought her here, regardless of what I wanted. She wasn’t good for me. I wasn’t good for her. She was better off under the quiet care of Michaels and his small medical staff—even if he pissed me off.

  I would get my answers…soon enough.

  I would ensure she paid me back…after she healed.

  And once I’d satisfied my ever driving demand, I’d get rid of her so I could find peace once again.

  For now, the doctor would be my link to her. He’d given me updates on her wellbeing, and would start her on soft foods at lunchtime.

  Yesterday, I’d asked again how soon she would be able to talk.

  All I’d earned was an angry scowl. In terms of conversing timeframe, that was up to his patient. I just hoped his patient understood how reckless her presence was in my life, and the sooner she could give me what I wanted, the safer she would be.

  Then again, I was afraid she would never talk—even once healed. She’d spent two years silent. Two years of notes to a fictional entity, all dated and delivered in utmost silence.

  I wanted a timeline of when she would be physically cured so I could force her to talk if she overspent my generosity.

  I’d give her two weeks.

  If she hadn’t said a word by then, I’d force her.

  The captain looked up as I marched onto the bridge. The Phantom was second to none. I’d designed this ship the year my fate changed and put no restrictions on my requirements.

  Once the vessel was completed and sailed elegantly out to sea, people took notice. Enquiries flittered around, asking where I’d bought it and how they could acquire such a fine craft.

  When they found out I’d designed the one-of-a-kind super yacht and bought the firm who built it for me, orders came swiftly with no marketing or request for their business.

  I sort of fell into the trade.

  “Good morning, Mr. Prest.” Jolfer Scott came highly recommend—not just as a sea captain but also as an ex-military commander with an exemplary track record of sniper shooting and weaponry.

  Being at sea was the safest and most dangerous place to live. Safest because humans were few and far between—peace existed in the vast blue beauty and uninterrupted sunshine.

  However, Mother Nature could drown us all with a simple storm if she so pleased. Even without a tyrant like Mother Nature as our landlord, living at sea was treacherous because out here, no rules applied. A neighbouring craft could very well be a kind traveller wishing to share a drink and adventures, or a killer wanting to board, loot, and rape.

  In the years the ocean had been my postcode, war had found us twice. Both times, the Phantom had been sandwiched by two yachts rigged with antennas and men with machine guns.

  They hadn’t won.

  My death toll had steadily grown.

  And the sharks enjoyed a good feast that night as we tossed the pirates overboard, leaving them to sink into the briny depths.

  “Anything to report, Jolfer?” I clasped my hands around the old-fashioned helm. That was a design I’d wanted—not because of practicality, but because the kid inside me never grew up.

  I’d ruined my childhood and my brother’s.

  But before that, when life was simpler, I’d loved my brother’s schooner that we’d played with in the bath. I loved the steering wheel where we’d place one-legged Lego Black Beard to steer the endless horizons.

  That toy schooner was gone now, just like Kade. And even though I held the real thing, this helm wasn’t in control.

  Computers were.

  Jolfer steered my home with a fully automatic system. Decorating the entire front wall of the bridge was a mirage of blinking lights, buttons, and dials.

  “Nothing, sir.” Jolfer wiped his hands on pressed navy trousers. His light blue t-shirt was casual but ironed, just like all his navigational team. “Still on course for Morocco. The report for weather on the Med is clear for the next few days with a minor squall coming on the weekend but nothing to concern us.”

  I scratched my chin. “Good.”

  Morocco was my next point of call. A Moroccan royal who was the second cousin to the king had a love of water after living in a desert-prone country and had enlisted my help to build him a moderate sized eight-bedroom yacht to entertain his close family and friends.

  His requests were the opposite of Alrik's.

  Instead of weapons and torpedoes, he wanted sun umbrellas and priceless chandeliers. He also wanted a detachable submarine—which was fairly new to the market and well over half a million dollars—just for a tiny four-person bubble to explore the depths.

  I would normally roll my eyes at such extravagance.

  If I didn’t have one myself.

  I’d used it a grand total of zero. I would never admit it, but I didn’t install it for recreational use but for the hope of one day finding my family and having gifts to br
ibe affection.

  It was a fucking ridiculous idea.

  Selix arrived, squinting at the ten a.m. sunshine streaming into the bridge. “Sir, the girl is showered and prepared as you requested.”

  Finally.

  It’s time we discuss a few things.

  “Thank you.” Giving him a look, I paced toward the exit. “When is our meeting with His Highness?”

  Selix pulled out his phone, tapping on the diary where he recorded every deal, open contract, and agenda so I didn’t have to. “In six days. We’re meeting him in Asilah at a local beachfront restaurant he co-owns.”

  My mind raced.

  Ideally, I would’ve liked to stop off in Monaco where my boat builders were based and visit the small house where I stored pieces of my past. It was the only place on land where I had a resemblance of home.

  But we didn’t have time.

  The Mediterranean was a busy path of waterways and cruising congestion. We didn’t have the luxury to detour.

  “I can arrange a small stay in Monaco once we’ve finished the meeting if you’d like?” Selix asked, reading my hesitation to swing into port.

  I bit my lip, contemplating. What would I have done with Pim by then? Would I have earned the answers I needed? Would I have already sold her or would she still be my ward?

  Either way, I needed to touch base with my managers. It’d been a few months. And I wanted to visit the things I constantly ran from—the memories I studiously avoided.

  “Yes, arrange it. Give us a few days in Monaco after this.”

  Trusting he would make it happen, I left the bridge and headed below deck to see my silent stowaway.

  “GOOD MORNING.”

  Him again.

  My head wrenched up. I tucked the bloody dollar with its scribbled note that Elder had folded into a butterfly beneath the sheets. I’d held onto it all while my tongue was sliced. I’d woken from surgery with it gone. Dr. Michaels had placed the ruined money into the bedside drawer, letting the unfolded butterfly wings breathe with past pain and everything I’d overcome.

  It was morbid to clutch such a thing; stupid to try to find comfort in something that had no power to grant any, especially when Elder’s penmanship inked with the truth: that he’d been willing to forget me but for some reason went against his promise.

  Knowing he would’ve willingly left me didn’t grant comfort in my current circumstances.

  Why did he return for me? What made him change his mind?

  It added yet another question to the bubbling cauldron already taking up every nook and cranny of my thoughts.

  I gritted my teeth, wishing this episode of my life was over and I was healed and strong and could demand my freedom before I went insane with questions.

  Now that he’s here…I need all the strength I can find.

  My breath caught as he strode into the room, nonchalant and unruffled in a black t-shirt and scuffed jeans.

  Even in casual clothes, he reeked of power and money.

  His dark eyes caught mine. “Time to go.”

  Go?

  Go where?

  I had no idea where we were. Where we were sailing. Why. The only thing I’d been able to gather was I was on a ship. The gentle rock caused mild seasickness, but with no window to look out from, I couldn’t tell if we were close to land or in the middle of nowhere.

  Elder stalked closer, his left hand in his pocket as if preventing himself from reaching for me. “Come.”

  Beneath the covers, I scrunched up the dollar bill so he wouldn’t see and cocked my head. I could take the notepad and write a question. I could finally communicate and ask where he wanted me to go. But old habits were so damn hard to break.

  A harsh sigh escaped his lips, answering me anyway. “You’re moving.”

  My eyes flashed around the room I’d grown accustomed to. In this small, sterile space, I’d slept alone for the first time in so long. I’d been warm and comfortable, if not sore and healing. I didn’t sleep bound on the floor or collared at the foot of a bed.

  This was heaven.

  I hunched.

  “You don’t want to go?” Elder raised an eyebrow. “You’d rather stay in the hospital wing?”

  If it means I stay safe, then yes.

  My chin rose defiantly.

  He rolled his eyes. “Fuck, you push me.” Ripping off the sheet like he did yesterday, he muttered, “You can either walk, or I carry you. Your choice.”

  I shot upright.

  The thought of his arms around me again—protecting me while threatening me—was too much to deal with so soon.

  I’ll walk.

  My legs swung out of bed as I glowered.

  He smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

  What was his deal? He was so gruff, so pissed off—as if I’d done something to annoy him. It was his fault he felt that way. I didn’t ask him to come back for me.

  You sort of did.

  You begged him—remember? When he kissed you, you gave in. You willingly submitted for the first time…

  I scoffed, shutting down those memories. I didn’t submit. I dove into pleasure I’d never had before. I gave in because I fully believed I was about to die and wanted to enjoy a splinter of normalcy between a man and a woman before I did.

  What was so wrong with that?

  Nothing. Just admit you liked him enough to kiss him back.

  Never.

  This man had intrigued me, but he’d extinguished any affection when he admitted I was his to do with as he pleased. He was just like the rest. He’d killed so easily. What was to prevent him from killing me once the novelty had worn off?

  Taking my elbow, Elder helped me stand.

  Air hissed through my nostrils as I struggled in his grip.

  “Don’t fight me, Pim.” His features sharpened. “You won’t win.”

  His fingers bit into painted bruises, reactivating the obedience Alrik had instilled in me.

  I allowed him to help me out of bed, wincing as my warm toes met chilled tiles.

  I wobbled a little, doing my best to stay standing. Elder didn’t let me go, but his touch turned gentle rather than commanding.

  Dr. Michaels had removed my drip an hour or so ago, saying he’d give me real food once he knew the minor nausea I’d suffered wouldn’t make me throw up. He said stomach acid on my tongue’s wound would not be good for anyone.

  I totally agreed.

  I needed to be close to the doctor I felt marginally comfortable with. I didn’t want to move in with a man who made my heart gallop when it shouldn’t be galloping at all. Not in its current condition.

  But he didn’t give me a choice.

  “Come.” Dragging me forward, Elder’s grip once again changed from gentle to unyielding.

  I shuffled forward, stiff as a plank and uncoordinated. Seeing as I tried to obey but struggled, Elder slowed.

  Cupping my elbow, he took some of my weight. “Each step will get easier. Another few weeks and your body will be able to move without pain.”

  I blinked at how wondrous that sounded.

  To move without shin splints, throbbing knees, and radiating bruises. To be healthy enough to exercise and not just stumble in servitude. Even my swollen tongue couldn’t detract from that delicious promise.

  I took another step.

  A crooked smile danced on his lips, but he didn’t speak as he slowly guided me from the ward down a long corridor. He didn’t yank me forward but he did keep a firm pressure, giving me time but bending me to his will.

  Together, we padded down the steel grey carpet with a white monogram of the same ghostly logo on the stationery I’d been given.

  Damn, I left the notepad behind.

  The pen too.

  But not my dollar bill.

  My fingers tightened, protecting my crimson-soaked secret.

  Coming to a stop, Elder pressed a silver button by a single set of elevator doors. He looked down, catching my gaze. “Pay attention. When y
ou’re summoned for a check-up with the medical team, you’ll need to remember which deck to go to.”

  You mean…I’ll be allowed to wander around unwatched?

  The thought was mildly terrifying.

  I’d had free roam of Alrik’s mansion, but the cameras kept me heeled tightly on my proverbial leash. I had no doubt Elder would have cameras too, but I didn’t mind him watching me nearly as much.

  Why is that?

  He’s still a man.

  Still a dominating bastard.

  But that kiss…

  My mind flittered back to the kiss as the elevator dinged, opened, and Elder stuffed us into the small mirrored box.

  My lips sparked as he pressed the button for deck two, and we flew upward. The air in the lift intensified, crackling with awareness.

  Would he kiss me like that again? Was that why he’d stolen me? To finish what he’d promised the night he’d let me sleep unmolested beside him?

  Even if he wanted to kiss me again, he couldn’t. I had stitches in my tongue. I was hurt.

  That never stopped other men.

  I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. Elder was a lot of things, but the more time I spent in his presence, the more I suspected he wasn’t like other men. And if he wasn’t like the others, how could I predict what he wanted? How could I ensure my survival if I couldn’t mentally and physically prepare for whatever would come next?

  The elevator doors opened, spewing us out onto a new deck. This one had rose-gold carpet with bronze accents glinting from subtle wallpaper and pretty sconces on the wall. It reeked of classical money and award-winning interior design.

  Elder let me go, marching ahead, expecting me to follow.

  My bare feet sank into welcoming carpet, whispering of happiness and a future so much better than my past. My pink nightgown that’d replaced the yellow from yesterday fluttered around my legs.

  It was a conscious effort not to tear the material away. I didn’t find comfort in the softness, merely torture.

  Elder finally stopped outside a rose-gold door and opened it. There was no key or barrier, just an ornate handle in the shape of a clamshell.

  Striding into the space, my jaw fell open as I followed him.

  A maid jumped as she turned around with a plump pillow in her arms. “Oh, excuse me, sir. I was just making final preparations for your guest.”