Elder crossed his arms. “The room looks fine. You may go.” His head remained high; his gaze locked on the pretty servant with blonde hair and not the exquisite room with its double doors leading onto a small balcony and cascading sunlight.
She bowed slightly, placing the pillow just so on top of a mountain of identical ones on the bed. The mattress was the biggest I’d ever seen.
“Right away, sir.” With a quick glance my way, she dashed from the room and closed the door.
Elder didn’t speak. Prowling forward, he opened the French doors and stepped into fresh sea air.
I craved to join him on the veranda and inhale freedom. To witness the rushing waves on the horizon and watch the gushing tide beneath my feet. But I didn’t know if he wanted me to follow—if it was an invitation or purely for him.
So, I lingered.
Pressing my stitched tongue against the roof of my mouth, cringing against the pain, I peered around the boudoir.
To my left was a sunken lounge where a couch big enough for eight people rested low enough to jump onto from floor level. An inbuilt coffee table had grooves for cups and racks for magazines to keep things in place regardless of how determined the ocean was at disrupting order. A large abstract painting hung on the wall, and the bed slumbered beneath a canopy of pale cream silk matching the elegant dark chocolate bedspread and ivory lace throw cushions.
Once again, the scent of money oozed from every fixture and fitting. A dining table sat beneath a window beside the French doors, and a bathroom was visible through a linking door to a full-sized Jacuzzi tub and a two-person shower in the same cream and chocolate décor.
The richness of colour was not lost on me after an eternity of white, white, white.
“Are you going to stand in the middle of the room forever or will you come here?” Elder’s voice whipped to my ears with the aid of muggy sea air.
My feet moved of their own accord. My entire body tingled as I stepped outside. I wasn’t a mute with a butchered tongue. I wasn’t sold into a new nightmare. I was just a girl standing beside a boy in the middle of the ocean.
My shoulder brushed against his bicep as we stood watching the view. Sunshine tinkled like gold on turquoise glass. I’d never seen anything so beautiful.
A million questions unfolded like origami in my mind.
What is this ship?
Where are we going?
Why did you do this wondrous thing and bring me with you?
But the answers weren’t needed as much as the kiss of such warm beauty. I’d been denied the outdoors for so long that the slaps of water and the breeze as its fingers tangled in my hair was almost euphoric.
“That’s the first time you’ve looked weightless and not drowning beneath horror since we met.”
I jolted as Elder turned to face me.
“I like that look.”
I had no snarky comeback. No inner comment. His gaze and the sublime view behind him mesmerized me. Gripping the balcony rail with my unbroken hand, I risked looking directly down at the churning sea froth as the sleek silver lines of his ship cut like a sword through the water.
“I wouldn’t get any ideas of jumping overboard if I were you. I’d be pretty pissed if you killed yourself after everything I’ve done to keep you alive.”
My breathing stopped.
He knew about my desire to die? Did he plan to use that weakness against me or did he understand why I’d entertained such thoughts?
Turning on his heel, he murmured, “Come. The balcony is yours; you can stand on it whenever you want. I’ll show you around, then I have work to return to.”
I trailed behind him.
While we’d admired the ocean, a servant had entered and vanished, leaving in his or her wake a tray full of soft noodles, fluffy rice, and steaming potato soup. A carbohydrate avoider’s nightmare, but to my suddenly greedy stomach, it was an oasis of delicacies.
“You’re only allowed soft food for now, but if you have a craving for something else, let the staff know, and Michaels will approve or deny.”
His eyes fell to my hands.
Between my fingers poked the butterfly gift he’d given me.
His forehead furrowed. “What the—”
Before I could hide my bloody dollar, he’d stolen it once again. His fingers swift and stealthy.
“This isn’t sanitary. Why the hell do you still have it?”
I balled my fists.
Because it was a gift.
Elder shook his head slightly. “You want to keep it?”
My eyes locked on the dirty money. I desperately wanted to nod. But then he’d win. When he’d talked to me about first times back at Alrik’s and created magic in my blood, making me want those things, he’d done his best to make me answer him.
And I did. I’d replied.
I wouldn’t do it again…not when I didn’t know what he ultimately wanted.
“Well, you can’t have it.” With a vicious look, he pinched the note between both hands and tore it down the middle.
My heart blazed with frustrated flames. But I didn’t let him see—didn’t let on that the destruction of something worthless to him but so valuable to me was so damn easy and that terrified me.
His voice fell dark and low. “I told you you are worth more than pennies, yet you cling to a dollar as if it’s the sum of your value.” He tore the note into quarters with a sneer. “Blood stains everything these days. Even wealth.”
My gaze followed the torn pieces as they fluttered to the floor.
“Was it the money you valued or the butterfly? It can’t have been the scribbled note.” He tilted his head. “I don’t understand you, silent one, but I will.” His hand lashed out, cupping my jaw. I froze as his thumb traced the bruises on my chin, his eyes lingering on my mouth.
“If it’s the money, I’ll give you a hundred more.”
I exhaled in disgust, curling my lip.
Will that make you feel better? Instead of treating me like a slave, you’ll buy me like a whore?
His eyes narrowed. “It’s not about the money. Is it?”
I tore my jaw from his hold even as his fingers loosened to let me go.
“If it’s the gift…” He cleared his throat. “If it’s the butterfly I folded, I can give you another.”
My heart plopped onto the pillow-laden bed. How did this man understand me when I’d never spoken a word to him?
He held my gaze as he reached into his jeans pocket, pulled out a money clip, and peeled off a note.
Swallowing was hard enough with a stitched tongue, but as his fingers tucked away the clip and stroked a fresh ten-dollar American bill, I struggled even more.
“I’ll allow the silent treatment for a little longer, Pimlico, but fair warning…it will get old very fast.” His face tightened. “Especially when I expect answers to questions that are suitable enough for polite conversation.”
I bristled.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the way he pinched the money and folded creases in preparation for whatever bewitchment he would create. The thought of another gift pacified me enough that I didn’t bother with the broken pieces on the carpet nor sniff in indignation at his threat.
Leaving me standing alone in the middle of the sumptuous suite, he moved toward the table where lunch waited. “Come.”
He likes that word. How often has he ordered me to come like a poodle since I became his?
His command licked down my spine, doing its best to hijack my control and force me to obey.
I’d obeyed for two years without a choice.
Why would I want to trade one prison for another? Even if this prison was colour and sensation when the last had been monochrome and agony?
Fighting the urge, I straightened my shoulders. I didn’t mean to antagonise, but I was done being a toy for a man too rich and powerful to be governed by rules and decency.
If he wanted me to comply—if he wanted me to talk…well, politeness and ci
vility was the price he had to pay.
Shaking his head, he swallowed a growl. It wasn’t anger percolating in his chest but a rare emotion I hadn’t seen in so long.
Pride.
He’s proud that I’m standing up to him?
“Please.” Hiding a roguish smile, he bowed his head, his fingers never stopping their folding. “That’s what you’re waiting for, isn’t it? Come here, please?”
My chin rose even as I rewarded him with a step toward the table.
His gaze fell on my legs, his smile slipping into a sharp cough of approval.
Why did I get the distinct impression of an endless conversation happening when we’d barely interacted? Was this how animals introduced themselves? Body language and mutual respect?
Respect.
Another emotion I was no longer acquainted with. Respect for another person or for myself. How many things had I forgotten? And how long would it take to relearn?
Pulling out a chair, Elder watched with a predatory glare until I came close enough to sit. I did so as gracefully as I could with my bruised body and waged war with what to look at.
Delicious food or dangerous man.
The soup curled with flavour; the noodles steaming with savoury tease. But then there was Elder and his sensuous fingers creating a gift for me because…
Wait, why is he making me another gift?
The first he’d given me as payment for the night together. A night that’d ended in horrendous ways. But he’d still earned something from me to warrant his origami present.
That wasn’t the case today. Not only had he returned for me. Stolen me. Healed me. Protected me. He now gave me rooms of my own, nourishing food, and most of all, the courtesy of letting me rest with no undertones of evil or malicious expectation.
Is it right I accept another gift when he’s already given so much?
The faint whispering of folding linen paper hushed my questions as his fingers flew. Sitting elegantly, he didn’t look up from his creation, but his lips twitched. “You eat. I’ll fold.” His voice flirted with a sensual bargain. “Do we have a deal?”
My tongue ached in upcoming agony even as my mouth watered.
His fingers stopped folding when I didn’t move.
“Well?” He raised an eyebrow, looking from me to the food.
Never glancing away, I carefully pulled the bowl of soup closer and picked up a spoon. It didn’t go unnoticed that there were no dog bowls or forbidden use of utensils. Here I was human…a girl. Here, I was someone not something.
I just hoped it was the beginning of how my future would unfurl and not a cruel game he was playing while waiting for me to heal enough for his requirements.
Dipping the silver spoon into the creamy potato soup, I raised my own eyebrow.
Keep being a gentleman and you’ve got yourself a deal.
He licked his lips as I inserted the spoon into my mouth and struggled with the lack of robust taste or warning if the liquid was too hot. The doctor was right when he said he didn’t know if he’d been able to save those senses. It took a second to remind my body how to swallow and winced as the food slid down my throat.
Elder paused his folding. “Hurt?”
I wanted to shake my head. To give him some sign that I was willing to work with him while he was being so kind, but once again, the safety mechanism of my past forbid me.
Tilting my chin, I focused on gathering more soup and swallowing another spoonful.
He didn’t ask again, taking my willingness to keep eating as answer enough. Silence fell as he crimped and creased, and I ate slowly, trying to blow on the hot liquid but unable to position my swollen tongue enough to purse my lips.
After a few minutes, Elder spoke calmly but with a cold undertone. “You know why I came back for you, don’t you?”
I didn’t look up, keeping my gaze resolutely on the soup. He wanted to talk? I wouldn’t stop him. But if he was looking for conversation, he hadn’t earned that yet.
Taking another sip, I kept my head down but my body relaxed, hoping he understood that I was willing to listen if not participate.
Sighing heavily, he continued in his cool timbre. “I returned because no one should have to live in such a fucking hellhole. I hope you know you’ll never be subjected to those conditions again.”
My muscles tensed.
But what will you do to me?
Do you intend to keep me, free me…sell me?
My current position didn’t petrify me, but the unknown future did. How long would he tolerate his boat being a convalescent home? How soon would he expect me to pay him back?
And how?
How will I be made to pay you back?
Because everything in this world had a price tag.
“Just because I’ve taken you for my own doesn’t mean I’m like him. I do expect things—the main one being your past and present. I want to know who you are. I want to know your real name, where you’re from, and what you would do if you were free. I need to master you, Pim…but in a different way to what you expect.”
I jolted.
I ignored the mastering part, entirely focused on the word free.
If I was free.
Not when I was free.
I didn’t realise how much I was holding onto hope that his intentions were honourable and wherever we were sailing to might’ve ended with a journey home.
Stupid Pim.
I’d been given safety and sanctuary. I should know by now not to expect anything more—especially my freedom.
That had been stolen, and it would remain stolen. I doubted it would ever be returned. I would be forever lost and go from master to master until I was too old, ugly, and broken to be of value.
Elder didn’t notice the way I huddled over my soup, doing my best to ignore the crushing disappointment and focus on how lucky I was. I refused to lament over things I didn’t have when I’d been given so much.
Biting his lip as he curled an intricate fold, Elder finished the origami then looked up. “All of that can wait. For now, all I expect is for you to heal quickly. I want you to eat when required, sleep when your body tells you, and forget what he did to you.”
Those commandments were doable.
I took another sip before my stomach decided it’d had enough and tiredness settled like a cloak instead.
Elder stood in silent reproach.
I sat taller in my chair, trying to seem stronger than I was.
“Don’t fear me, silent one, but don’t push me either. When I know what I want from you—other than who you are—I’ll let you know. And I’ll expect you to do what I want. But until then…” His fingers uncurled, depositing an impeccable sailboat origami by my broken hand. “I won’t touch you. You have my word.”
Striding to the door, he added, almost too low to hear as if it was purely for him. “I won’t touch you for my sake rather than yours.”
I spun in the chair as quickly as my bruised ribs would allow.
What do you mean by that?
Pausing on the threshold, Elder said, “I have work to do. Have a bath, a nap, write—whatever you want. I’ll summon you when I’m done.” Giving me a cool smile, he pointed at the coffee table in the sunken lounge where a black box with a grey ribbon rested. “Your notes to the person you call No One are all there. When you’re ready to talk, you can’t lie to me. Not after I’ve had the privilege of reading your darkest thoughts.”
I swallowed hard.
Those weren’t for you, you bastard.
My unbroken hand balled as he bowed slightly. “Until we meet again.” Then he was gone, slipping like a shadow from the room.
His presence lingered, giving me no peace. My anger that he’d invaded my privacy and read my letters boiled over as I clutched the origami boat. The urge to crush it was strong, but the memory of why he’d made it made me pause.
He’d sat beside me and created this gift because he understood what it meant. He’d given me something of
value. Yet, he’d also taken something of value away.
He’d robbed me of my confessions. He’d read what wasn’t his to read.
Stroking the fine creases of such an intricate little boat, I marvelled at how his brutal fingers had made something so delicate. If he could hold something so gently and twist common into beauty…then perhaps he wasn’t like Alrik, after all.
Maybe, just maybe, he spoke the truth when he said he wouldn’t hurt me. And if that was the case, then whatever payments he expected in return would be paid, if not willingly, at least less painfully than before.
As the sea rolled beneath my feet and the horizon welcomed with turquoise water, I forced myself to admit that this was just another prison, and he was just another puppeteer, but at least, I was still alive.
I would survive.
Because that was what I was born to do.
“SURELY, YOU MUST have a forwarding number.”
The woman on the other end of the phone was less than fucking helpful. “No. The home line was disconnected after multiple non-payments. We requested the bill payer contact us on three occasions and never received any answer.” Her huff echoed loud in my ear. “That’s normal protocol. And like I told you many times, we don’t have any forwarding details or reasons why the invoices went unpaid with no further communication.”
That was what worried me. Where had Pimlico’s mother vanished to? In my experience, if someone disappeared, it was usually from bad situations. Either from committing a crime and running from the law (was she involved with Pim’s abduction?) or becoming the victim of such an incident (like her daughter).
Ever since Pimlico entered her home number into my phone at Alrik’s, I’d bided my time to use it against her. The digits were as good as a treasure map to who Pim was. And if I could figure out who she was before I lost myself to whatever urges she manifested, the better for both of us.
I wasn’t good with secrets. I wasn’t good with things I wanted but couldn’t have. I wouldn’t rest until I’d turned an inconsequential phone number into the truth.
“At least let me know the bill payer’s full name. I’ll do my own research seeing as you’re determined not to help.”
Dollars (Dollar #2) Page 5