Dollars (Dollar #2)

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 you’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.”

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.