Dollars (Dollar #2)(14)

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 civility 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.