Dollars (Dollar #2)

by Pepper Winters

  I pursed my lips, fighting his control over the rest of my ill-conceived dress.

  “Let go, Pim.” Ever so gentle but with a ruthless, lethal command, he tugged.

  I fought, but he was stronger.

  My fingers hurt as the rest of the cotton fell away, leaving me naked.

  I should be glad. I preferred this state. Normally, I felt nothing when the air caressed my flesh. Nothing but freedom from suffocation. Only this time…this time with his hungry eyes and the pinot noir replacing my blood, I was too hot, too alive, too damn conscious of everything a body could do and everything mine had been forced to endure.

  My bruises ached.

  My nipples pebbled.

  My bones throbbed.

  But it was nothing compared to my heart. She enlisted that damn traitorous emotion I thought had died the day I was sold.

  Lust.

  Damn rotten lust that I wasn’t acquainted with and would never, ever tolerate. It was a sick, sick emotion. It caused men to buy young girls and break them. It turned rationality into insanity. It ended the lives of so many.

  Stark fear sprang like a hare as his large hand cupped my hipbone, dragging me forward until his cock bruised my belly.

  He groaned long and low.

  I closed my eyes, waiting for the snap I knew would come. He’d spoken of giving me time—fixing me not raping me.

  I’d begun to trust his promises.

  I was stupid.

  This was payment for all he’d done for me. I would shut up, shut down, and deal with it. I could handle it. I’d handled worse.

  “Look at me,” he ordered.

  I merely squeezed my eyes tighter and cocked my chin. I kicked the pooled sheet off my feet, balling my hands.

  “Fuck, you’re too brave for your own good.” His fingers curled around my chin, holding me tight, pressing my skull against the mirrors behind me. “Do you have any idea what you do to me standing there so regal and unbroken when your body tells a completely different story?”

  I clamped my lips together, ignoring the fresh throb in my tongue.

  His mouth skated over mine in a barely there kiss, his breath hot and angry. “I’ve been able to restrain myself up till now, but every second with you, it gets harder and harder.”

  With a feral growl, he pushed away, pressing himself against the other side as the doors chimed merrily, announcing our arrival.

  The lift swung open.

  The corridor was empty.

  Elder stepped out. “Get dressed. Meet me on deck seven in half an hour.” Before I could collapse under the colossal weight of just happened, the doors swung closed and trapped me.

  Morocco suddenly wasn’t the playground I’d hoped to play in—it was more of an executioner’s holding pen.

  For the first time, I craved white because white kept me focused on who I truly was.

  I’d begun to forget.

  Elder had successfully just reminded me.

  I won’t forget again.

  YOU FUCKED UP.

  You fucked up.

  You fucked up.

  The ceaseless mantra echoed in my head with every step.

  I didn’t know why I’d slipped. Why that moment was the moment Pim drove me insane enough to contemplate taking her in the lift. It went against everything I thought I wanted. But fuck me, having her body wedged against mine had been far too bloody tempting.

  I had blue balls from trying to be the perfect host. I layered frustration upon frustration trying to be her councillor, protector, and friend.

  Who was I kidding?

  I could never be her friend.

  I couldn’t even be alone with her without doubting I’d have the power not to touch her.

  Marching faster, dust kicked up around my dress shoes (I’d traded my flip-flops) as the sun did its best to turn us into jerky. Pim scurried beside me, never looking at me but exquisitely aware of every move I made.

  I didn’t think she even knew she did it. Knew how her body flowed in accordance to how fast I travelled, how it paused if I slowed, how it swayed to the side if I lifted an arm. It was as if strings connected her to me, and I had full control over making her dance.

  Had she always been so in tune to others or had her captivity given her a sixth sense? An innate ability to duck an incoming blow or pre-empt a threatening kick?

  Either way, she distracted me, which was not a good thing.

  I was here to work.

  I should’ve left her on the fucking boat.

  In the time I’d given her to dress, I’d done my best to get myself under control. It didn’t work. And when I’d met her on deck seven where the ramp rested to reach the dock, I had a headache and was in a sour mood.

  It hadn’t improved when Pim arrived in yet another dress far too big for her. The baby blue material hung with navy panels on the contours of her hips—the same hips I’d clutched in the elevator.

  On a curvy woman, the darker fabric would make her curves pop into an hourglass figure. On Pim, she just looked like a model that’d stepped off a runway and had forgotten to eat in decades. At least, she’d had the good sense to bring a large white hat that flopped over one side of her face, keeping her protected from the sun.

  It also protected her from me.

  She kept me constantly in her awareness but never let me catch her eye. She’d returned to the girl I’d met at Alrik’s—the one with a shawl of icy protection beneath the guise of submission. The one who intrigued me so damn much that I’d practically begged for a night with her.

  This woman lived with me on my yacht. We slept a deck apart, and she wanted nothing to do with me. Why the fuck did I continue to torture myself? I should get rid of her before I did something I regretted.

  The idea of removing her from my life (before it was too late) soothed my mind enough to find peace and concentrate. I ignored my silent guest and paid attention to the city of spices instead. It helped a little, concentrating on other people who didn’t have nearly as much power over me as she did.

  Morocco was exactly as I remembered.

  Hot, dusty, archaic in its organised chaos.

  My thoughts normally found sanctuary here away from its own internal jumble, but that was before I made the idiotic decision to steal Pimlico.

  The entire drive to the arranged restaurant where we were to meet His Highness, Simo Riyad, she’d peered out the car window, studiously ignoring me.

  Did she remember sprawling on my lap in that very vehicle as she choked on her blood? Did she remember me hugging her close, whispering I wouldn’t let her die and she was mine now?

  If she did…there was no sign.

  Thank God we weren’t in the car anymore because I might’ve done something I regretted.

  Just to add to all the rest.

  Selix strolled in front of us, protecting me as he was paid to do. We followed a little alleyway to a quaint beachfront restaurant where bodyguards rested in shadow, leaving the royal family to eat in safety.

  Entering the airy space with its windowless walls and earthen design, I slipped into Elder Prest—boat builder, millionaire, and ruthless businessman.

  The moment Simo Riyad spotted us, he stood and waved.

  Selix subtly put his hand on his torso where his concealed weapon rested before branching to the left, letting me know he had my back but wouldn’t interfere with business.

  He caught my gaze, raising his eyebrow at Pimlico.

  Did I want him to take her or did I want her near me?

  I’d been trying to decide that since we left Phantom.

  I was screwed either way.

  If Selix took her, I’d wonder if she’d call my bluff and run—if she’d vanish before I had a chance to interrogate and sample her. But if she sat beside me, questions would come and what answers could I give?

  Who the fuck cares?

  They’re business associates, not confidants. They don’t need to know.

  Straightening my shoulders,
I shook my head and took Pimlico’s elbow, guiding her away from Selix and toward the table where Simo, his wife, and two young children sat prim and proper.

  Pim stiffened under my direction but didn’t pull away.

  Drawing up to the table, Simo’s wife smiled demurely, her attention flicking from me to Pim and back again. The kids smiled too—perfect manners for royal offspring. All of them had mocha skin and rich dark hair, reminding me of a culture different to the Western world where I’d grown up, even though I had ¼ exotic blood running in my veins.

  “Ah, we finally meet.” Simo stood, holding out his hand to shake. His turban hid most of his head, and his cobalt three-piece suit was too stuffy for the sticky heat.

  “It’s been a long time coming, Your Highness.” I placed mine in his, glad to finally meet the man who, on paper, I genuinely liked. Compared to the other assholes I dealt with, he was an innocent puppy dog.

  However, no one truly knew another—even when living together.

  I threw a scowl at Pim.

  Our hands unclasped as His Highness grinned. “Please, call me Simo. And in turn, I hope to call you Elder? Or do you prefer Mr. Prest?”

  I grinned, slipping back into the world I controlled. “Elder is fine.”

  Pim flinched beside me.

  Simo glanced at her before giving me his full attention again. “In that case, it is a pleasure to meet you, Elder. I hold much regard for a man who makes such exquisite things.” He motioned for me to take the seat next to him, clicking his fingers at a hidden guard to bring another chair for Pimlico. “And who is this stunning creature?” He held out his hand to Pim. “I’m so glad you brought your wife too, Elder. Mine was rather insistent on joining me. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I unbuttoned my blazer in preparation of sitting. “Not at all, such beauty should be shared.” I threw a respectful smile at his pretty partner. “Although, please excuse the confusion. This is not my wife. She is merely my travel companion, for the time being.”

  Pim caught my eye, her lips thinning.

  Not looking away, I murmured, “Her name is Pimlico.”

  Her throat worked as she swallowed. A tight lasso of her energy and mine lashed us together. Would the unwanted connection between us ever go away?

  Simo leaned forward and captured Pim’s unbroken hand.

  I stiffened with possessiveness, watching what she would do. She barely tolerated anyone touching her—let alone a strange man.

  She shocked me stupid as she tipped her nose at me and dropped into an effortless curtsy for his Royal Highness. His lips grazed the back of her knuckles.

  What the fuck?

  What sort of past had she lived to be more comfortable with men with titles than she was with the man who’d saved her?

  “You are most welcome, my dear.” Simo breathed into the chaste kiss.

  Pim tucked her chin, a demure smile on her face, taking her hand back once the introduction was complete.

  My heart grabbed drumsticks and pounded on my ribcage.

  What the hell was that?

  Simo motioned to his wife. “This is my beloved Dina.” He beamed with husband pride. “I’m sure she would be grateful for female company and conversation.”

  Pim’s eyes met the woman’s.

  I held my breath, wondering if this was the moment she spoke. She’d slapped me in the face by giving respect to a man she’d only just met, perhaps she’d claw out my heart by speaking to a woman she didn’t know.

  To hear her voice was a tantalizing thought, even if it would fuck me off. How dare she give that gift to complete strangers rather than me?

  When I’d told her she could come with me, I hadn’t contemplated the idea she would talk. That her tongue would be healed enough to spill my secrets and inform those who should never know that I’d stolen her. That it was fully within my power to free her, but I wouldn’t until I got what I wanted.

  Instead of airing our sinful laundry, she glanced at me then dropped her gaze.

  The drumsticks stopped playing death metal against my ribs—for the time being.

  This meeting was already too long, and we’d only just begun.

  Taking a collected breath, I smiled at Simo and his family, answering on Pim’s behalf. “I’m afraid she doesn’t speak. She’s mute.”

  Not quite, but it was easier than the truth. Far simpler than to explain her half-severed tongue and the bruises only just beginning to fade beneath her dress.

  Pim didn’t give any outward reaction to my delivery of her ‘condition.’ If anything, she looked mildly relieved that she could be a voyeur but not participate.

  Her eyes weren’t passive, though. She might be silent, but she wasn’t stupid. Her attention flickered between His Highness and his wife, drawing conclusions far too astute for a stolen slave.

  Watching her watch them gave me a hint of how hard she would be to break. How everything I did, every vowel I uttered and every syllable I whispered was armament in her weaponry against me.

  Christ, will I ever get what I want?

  Dina nodded at Pim, woman to woman. “I think that’s impressive—not to talk, I mean.” Her voice was sweet and respectful. “Men talk so much these days. I often feel like a mute myself.”

  Pim gave her a rare smile, letting it reach her eyes and transforming her from sad wraith to brilliant beauty.

  Once again, she stole a heartbeat. I glowered at her for such sorcery.

  Not once had she looked at me that way.

  Not once had she deemed me worthy of such a gift.

  My shoulders tensed as anger percolated like rich coffee in my blood. She wanted to punish me? Fucking fine. I’m willing to change the rules of this game.

  “Should we get down to business?” Simo asked.

  I nodded as two waitresses brought over a tray of local beverages and finger food.

  Forcing my mind away from Pim and ideas of how to earn a smile like the one she’d just bestowed, I rubbed at the unwanted tightness in my chest, pulled out my phone, and got to work.

  * * * * *

  Three hours and multiple revisions to the yacht schematics later, we were done. My back ached from reaching across the table to reveal updated plans. Luckily, my phone had a self-designed software that made it easy to tweak frivolous requests while important things like water displacement and ballast were all mathematically checked in the background.

  Pimlico obviously hadn’t said a word during the meeting, but she’d struck up a strange friendship with Dina.

  While Simo and I muttered about incandescent bulbs versus the merit of LED and argued over what wood would be best in the library, Pim never took her eyes off Dina or her children.

  The kids, sensing a willing victim, kept plying Pim with curried couscous on fresh pita, presented with fingers covered in sauce.

  Not once did Pim refuse their offering, but she did struggle to eat. Shouldn’t her tongue be mostly healed by now? I’d already set a reminder to ask Michaels when we returned home.

  Home.

  What an odd concept. After this meeting, I would return home with a girl in tow who was still a total stranger.

  As the last round of drinks was delivered, Pim’s gaze trailed over her shoulder, looking for a washroom.

  Dina noticed. “They’re toward the back.”

  Pim smiled, standing gracefully. Dina and Simo’s eyes tracked over her, noticing things they hadn’t when we’d first arrived—the fading bruises, the bandage on her hand, the skinniness of her arms and chest.

  My hands fisted. Would they think I’d done that? That I was a psychopath who kept girls as pets?

  Dina narrowed her eyes, judging my relationship with Pim from the small distance between us.

  Pissed off with her scrutiny, I cocked my head at Selix to escort Pim to the facilities—not to prevent her from running, but to guard her. In her notes to No One, she said she was sold at a shabby hotel with a masquerade ball.

  But how was she origin
ally kidnapped? Was the tale true that she was at a charity function with her mother or had she been stolen by less refined means?

  Selix stepped forward to collect her, but Dina stood. “You know, I might go too.”

  She and Pim shared a smile.

  What is it with women and joint bathroom visits?

  Selix caught my eye, asking if he should still follow.

  I nodded subtly. He could protect from outside the bathroom while the two women protected each other inside.

  Dina moved toward Pim then blew her husband a kiss.

  Simo grinned before turning his attention to the latest amendment to his yacht. Meanwhile, I couldn’t tear my fucking eyes off Pim as she padded across the restaurant in her floaty dress and sandals.

  It was no secret I found Pim bloody stunning. Her nose, her eyes, her chin, her strength—she equalled a beautiful woman. Having the luxury of gawking at her ass and the flamingo-like curve of her spine made me hard.

  “Women, huh?” Simo chuckled. “They cause the worst pain and the best pleasure.”

  I gave half a smile. “I wouldn’t know.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m only taking care of her from an unfortunate incident.”

  Simo took a sip of his wine. “I must admit, I was doing my best not to ask who marked her.”

  I snorted, taking his direction and throwing a mouthful of guava juice down my throat. Wine was not an option. Alcohol had the opposite effect on me than cannabis. “Would you continue to deal with me if I said I was the one?”

  “No.” His face locked into place. “But I don’t believe you did.”

  “Why?” My eyebrows rose, asking a dangerous question. “I already said we aren’t lovers, and you most likely have suspicions of my intentions with her.”

  Why am I having this conversation with a royal?

  It wasn’t possible I wanted to clear my name rather than be sullied by his opinion. It didn’t matter to me.

  Simo patted his son’s head who currently had crayon all over the tablecloth. “A man who glowers at a woman the way you do her…she’s the one hurting you. Not the other way around.”

  Words flew from my head. For the first time in forever, I was speechless.

  Simo continued. “I believe there are many kinds of men. My second cousin, the king, is one type—a possession to his beloved country. I am another type—a possession to the woman I married. And then, there is you.” He looked up, stealing the crayon from his son.