Dollars (Dollar #2)

by Pepper Winters

  I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t.

  Clearing my throat, I asked, “And what kind am I?”

  He grinned wisely. “You, my friend, are homeless. You are neither owned by a country or a woman. It is a place not many men can survive in for long.”

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  Fuck.

  My heart fell into my stomach, hissing with acid. Homeless. Familyless. Even Selix—after our years on the streets together—didn’t know the truth about me. How had this royal looked through my façade and understood?

  He waved his hand as if he hadn’t just torn apart my fucking life. “I have a question if I may. It doesn’t relate to boat building.” His face softened. “However, after the personal conversation we just had, I don’t think it’s too inappropriate to ask.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. I’d been in control of this meeting, and now, I was on the back foot. That had never happened to me. Ever. Part of me wanted to tell him to shove his question up his ass, but my lips moved with permission. “Ask.”

  “Great.” He opened his arms as his daughter grew tired and climbed onto his lap. “I’ve heard rumours about you.”

  My back instantly hardened.

  There were too many rumours to know which one he’d heard. Some, I’d started. Some, I wanted to end. Most of them were terrible—designed to keep me feared and free.

  “Oh?”

  “I heard you have a gift.”

  I choked on another mouthful of guava. “Excuse me?”

  “A gift. It’s why you build impeccable yachts. It’s why you’re so wealthy. It’s why you have many talents, I am sure.”

  “And what gift would that be?”

  His eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Some call it a curse.”

  Shit.

  “By the way you stiffened, I’m guessing you might call it a curse, too.”

  I smiled tightly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I think you do.” Stroking his daughter’s black hair, he whispered, “Funny how our minds fixate on things, isn’t it?”

  Ice fell over me like a blizzard. “What are you saying?”

  He chuckled. “Depends. Show me your hands.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Show me your hands.” Simo looked pointedly at where I clutched my glass.

  I searched for a reason to say no but couldn’t find one. Slowly, I unwound my fingers and presented them palm up. I didn’t breathe as Simo reached across and stroked the pads of my fingers of my left hand. “You play.”

  I coughed.

  This meeting was over. What the fuck was he doing?

  Simo held out his own left hand. “Go ahead. If it will make you feel easier.” My legs bunched to walk out of the restaurant, but my fingers disobeyed me, creeping across to touch this man in the same way he’d touched me.

  Calluses and thickened skin, just like mine.

  “The cello?” My voice barely carried.

  He nodded. “I’ve researched you, Elder. I hear you were a prodigy.”

  How the fuck did he hear that?

  Memories of a happier time with music, surrounded by my mother, father, and brother—memories that riddled me with bullets and made me bleed—tried to enter my mind.

  I gritted my teeth, pushing them back. “Once. That’s over now.”

  “Yet you still play.” He leaned back, cuddling his daughter. “You know, Elder, in my country, we don’t label things like the western world. If one has the tendency to focus until perfection is created, we praise rather than worry. I think all great virtuosos have what you have, and you should not run from it.”

  “What I have?”

  “Sorry, it’s not what you have but what you are.” Changing the subject, Simo smiled. “I wasn’t going to tell you this as it has no reflection on our business together. However, I think, after learning what sort of man you are behind your reputations, it can’t hurt.”

  Once again, he put me on the back foot.

  I fucking hated it.

  My brain scrambled to catch up from talking to a fellow cellist, finding out he understood what lurked inside me—now, he wanted to expose yet more revelations?

  Liquor suddenly held allure as did the pull of a joint.

  Doing my best to keep my voice calm and disinterested, I drawled, “Tell me what?”

  His gaze darted to the bathroom, obviously wanting to finish this heart to heart before the women returned. “I might not be the king, but I have access to everything my second cousin does—including the best private investigators. When my wife and I decided to purchase a yacht, we were meticulous in our research. Your company and product are second to none, but I would never have done business with you based on your reputation and dealings with men who are corrupt beyond comprehension.”

  I smiled, but it wasn’t the cold boastful smile I’d perfected when dealing with criminals—it bordered the man I’d been. “Normally, that’s why business seeks me out.”

  “I figured as much.” He lowered his voice. “But that’s what turned us away. The royal family can’t be seen to be dealing with murderers and thieves.”

  I hid my scowl.

  What would you say if you knew I was a thief?

  “So what changed your mind?” I asked.

  “Your past.”

  “My past?” My voice snapped. “What about my past?”

  Rubbing his callused fingers together, he said, “We are about the same age. I started playing the cello when I was eight, and the music community was small. The world is not a large place when the love of something draws us together.”

  Once again, memories that had no right to hurt me tried to swarm.

  My mother bought me my first cello lesson when I was four. I’d cried when it was over because I never wanted it to end. The next week, my father borrowed money from our neighbours to buy a second-hand cello, so I could play and play and never fucking stop.

  The strings. The frets. The music.

  Shit, the notes I could create—it gave me purpose. I’d never been so drawn or so addicted. That was the beginning of the end for me. I’d cursed my entire family because of it.

  Simo’s voice blew away the recollection. “As I worked through my levels, a name kept being mentioned. A boy who played until his fingers bled. A boy who would strum for two days straight until he’d mastered a song he’d only just heard on the radio rather than sheet music given by a teacher.”

  I shot upright. “I’ve heard enough.”

  Simo didn’t stop. “My parents would use him as an example if I grew bored of practice. They would say ‘why can’t you be more like him?’ Whether he knew it or not, he became widely recognised for being the best. Until his ‘death,’ of course.”

  I bared my teeth like a cornered animal.

  Motherfucking shit.

  I paced away from the table, glaring at him. “Quit while you’re ahead. I’m done talking about this.”

  His shoulders tensed as if to blurt everything I’d tried to keep hidden, everything I’d covered up, but footsteps sounded behind me, signalling our time together was over.

  Thank Christ.

  Relaxing, he smiled. “I don’t know what happened or why that prodigy vanished, but I do know your true name, Elder Prest. I know the real man beneath the rumours. That is the man I hired to build my yacht. A man who has been called obsessive, a perfectionist. A man who can’t let something go until he rules it. I hired you because I want to keep my family safe, and no one will do a better job because you have no choice but to deliver excellence.”

  He kissed his daughter’s head, standing upright with her small body in his arms. “That is the man worthy of being possessed by either country or woman—not someone who should be alone.”

  His voice rang in my head.

  He knows my true name?

  I hadn’t let myself remember for so long. As far as I was concerned, I had no other name. I had no other life—no other existenc
e before this one.

  My skin crawled to leave.

  Dina appeared, heading to her husband and children. “The discussions are over so soon?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t look at her, scooping my phone and notepad off the table and tucking them into my trouser pockets. “I’ve heard everything I need to hear.” I glowered at Simo.

  He looked back with a respectful nod rather than taunting glint. He hadn’t told me he knew who I was to intimidate me. I didn’t know why he had. But stupidly, I trusted him not to blab.

  If I didn’t trust him, he wouldn’t be walking out of this restaurant. Bodyguards or royal blood be damned.

  Pim drifted to my side, her gaze locked on my face. She tilted her head, sucking on her bottom lip as if she understood the turbulent anger corroding me.

  She could fucking look.

  But until she told me her secrets, she wouldn’t be earning mine.

  Simo hoisted his daughter to his hip, holding out his hand. “It was nice talking to you, Elder. We should share our love of music again sometime.”

  I snorted, unwillingly shaking his palm. “There won’t be a next time.”

  “Perhaps.” He smiled. “But you will email over the new blueprints once the amendments have been drawn up?”

  I straightened my back. “After everything you just revealed about me, do you doubt it?”

  The little boy, jealous of his sister in his father’s arms, wrapped his arms around Dina’s leg, blinking sleepily.

  Simo chuckled. “You are right, my friend. You will because I know who you are.”

  Pim sucked in a breath beside me. No doubt reading into Simo’s sentence incorrectly. She thought she knew me. She thought all I wanted was to fuck her and dispose of her.

  That’s what you want her to believe.

  And it was what she would continue to believe.

  Because it’s the goddamn truth.

  Bowing slightly at Dina, I murmured, “Pleasure meeting you. I promise your yacht will have everything you require and more.”

  “Thank you, Elder.” She hugged her son’s head to her thigh. “If you’re ever in Morocco again, please let us know, and we’ll arrange a tour of our wonderful city.”

  “You’re very kind.” Bracing myself, I grabbed Pim’s elbow and steered her away from the table. “We’ll remain in touch via email. Until then, have a good afternoon.”

  “Goodbye, Elder.” The Royal Highness and his family exited through the back of the restaurant away from the public eye.

  Selix fell in step with me and Pim. She had no choice but to move as I guided her to the exit. Restaurant shadows steadily brightened as we traded fan-disturbed air for hot, sticky noon.

  The doorway wasn’t wide enough for both of us to pass. I pushed her ahead of me, clenching my jaw against the mottled bruises still decorating the top of her shoulders. The beads of her spine were too pronounced beneath her dress, still too stark and crying of an unhappy tale.

  My hands balled in rage. After the meeting from hell and knowledge that someone other than me and my mother knew who I truly was, I wasn’t in the mood to be gentle.

  I wished Alrik was still alive. I’d fucking kill him all over again for what he’d done to Pim and for my own black satisfaction.

  Having his marks on her drove me insane. Seeing her malnourished and unhappy while belonging to me made me criticize the very reason why I’d got involved with her in the first place.

  I need to do better.

  I was someone who cared about perfection.

  When had I forgotten that and twisted perfection into an obsession I could no longer handle?

  I needed her healthier, happier if I was to earn whatever it was I wanted. The hard part was I still didn’t know what I wanted. Or why I kept up this farce when she only complicated my life.

  Pim raised her head to the cloudless sky, letting the sun decorate her face. She inhaled the scents of dust and dung from camels tethered nearby.

  For a fleeting second, I saw the girl she’d been before she’d been sold.

  I saw how she could look if I fucking let her go and—

  No, she would never be that innocent or happy again—no matter if she was with me or the mother I couldn’t track down. Such hardship and evil she’d endured marked someone forever. Sure, she’d find pockets of happiness tucked in the overalls of life, but most of the time, those memories would steal her back, reminding her time and time again what she could never run from.

  I knew because that was my life. And it fucking sucked.

  Her head tilted until her eyes met mine. The rare freedom on her face vanished, smothered beneath distrust and wariness. Taking a step toward the black car that’d brought us here, Selix dashed in front to open the door for her.

  I stalked behind, never removing my eyes as she gathered her long dress and slipped into the shaded leather interior.

  The thought of returning to the ship so soon didn’t entice me. Even that rarity pissed me off. Normally, I couldn’t wait to run from crowds and chaos. However, nothing called to me to return. The only thing that did was locked in a secure box with its bow freshly strung ready to play. I hadn’t created music since Pim stepped on board. Solving a different problem in my stowaway had buried the itch.

  If we returned to the Phantom, Pim would vanish to her rooms. I would vanish to mine and we would be right back where we started before I dragged her outside.

  No.

  What do I want from you, girl? And why can’t I decide how to take it?

  “Get out.” I marched forward, yanking the door from Selix as he moved to close it. Pim looked up in shock. “We’re walking back.”

  “But sir—” Selix cleared his throat. “It’s height of the day, the heat—”

  “Don’t care. It’s only a few kilometres to the port. I want some exercise.”

  Selix wisely kept his mouth shut and didn’t mention we’d exercised together just this morning in the marital arts gym a few decks below. He’d favoured crescent knives. I’d wielded a katakana sword. It had been fun.

  Pim glanced from my bodyguard back to me, her eyes widening.

  I held out my hand like a gentleman, battling the urge to yank her from the car and drag her to my side. If Pim was ever going to be strong enough to give me what I wanted, she had to start making decisions and take responsibilities for those decisions.

  Perhaps that’s what’s missing? She’s never been given a choice. Not by me or Alrik. Chances are not even by her own mother.

  I’d given her a choice this morning to come with me.

  The least I could do was give her another. “I’m walking. You’re welcome to join me.” I closed my hand, dropping it to my side. “Or you can drive back with Selix.”

  Her mouth parted, searching for a trap.

  Selix stood calmly, his black top knot glistening in the hot sun.

  A few seconds ticked past. Sweat tickled my back beneath my jacket. Shrugging the linen off, I threw the blazer past Pim to sprawl on the backseat. The muggy air on my white t-shirt didn’t really help, but I couldn’t be assed wearing more clothes than what was needed.

  I suddenly had a small understanding for Pim and her aversion. If she’d been trained to accept nakedness as her uniform, how hard would it be to go back to confines of elastic and thread?

  My patience stretched thin. “Are you coming or not?” Facing away from the car, I took a step toward the bustling street where street vendors hid under the shade of their cart sails and shopkeepers did their best to keep away flies and ragamuffins.

  Pim bit her lip; her hands splayed on the car leather. The anxiety on her face from being forced to choose made my gut clench. “There is no right or wrong answer here, silent one. You return to the boat either with Selix or with me. I won’t hurt you for choosing.”

  Still, she didn’t decide.

  “Fine. I’ll make it for you. Go back to the boat with Selix. You’re probably still too weak to walk that far anyway.”
/>   The moment I spoke, she leapt from the car, hiding her wince from sore knees. Keeping her head high, she came to my side as if daring me to call her weak again. I’d probably get my ass kicked by Michaels when we boarded in a few hours, berating me for dragging his patient through grungy streets, but I couldn’t hide my grin as I struck off with her glued to my shadow.

  “Fair enough. Let’s walk.”

  WHAT WAS THIS new game?

  What were the rules? How should I act, behave, or respond? There were so many unfinished games between us, I was lost on how to continue.

  For fifteen minutes, I kept pace with Elder’s long stride as we headed toward the dock. Cafes and shops bustling with people with families and loved ones, people who had their own burdens to bear, slowly blocked the sea view.

  Had one of them been kidnapped? Did they share a story similar to mine or was I an anomaly here, just like I would be if I ever returned home?

  Elder kept glancing at me, but he didn’t speak, letting silence weave us together instead. If he was trying to use quietness against me, he wasn’t successful.

  Ever since we’d walked into that restaurant, I’d been hyper-aware of everything about him. For three hours, he sat and answered every question with fluid intelligence and grace. He wasn’t just a business owner who barricaded himself in a seafaring tower and let minions do the work. He was the business.

  My mouth had parted multiple times when technical terms and complex mathematical calculations were given in mere seconds of being asked. With his attention on Dina and her husband, I was free to watch, to listen, to understand.

  Finally, I’d had enough time to use the meagre skills my mother had taught me on how to read body language and find out I’d been wrong about him.

  I’d seen him as a single dimensional arrogant bastard who pursued me for his own gain with just enough decorum to be respectful to those who worked for him.

  Oh my God, I was so wrong.

  He wasn’t just multifaceted; he was layers upon layers of hypocrisies.