Dollars (Dollar #2)(17)

So once she’s fulfilled her purpose, you’ll trade her for something else that benefits you?

Why chase down her family and find out the truth if I had no intention of returning her to the life she’d been abducted from?

The answers danced on the back of my mind, elusive but teasing, letting me know I was more human than I wanted to admit. More in tune with broken things than I ever wanted to believe after what I’d done to my own family and the circumstances that followed.

Falling from grace and trading a home for homelessness had shaped me from kind to heartless. Ever since then, I didn’t give a shit about anyone else. Why should I? I was the cause of contamination.

Looking at my hands—the same hands that’d touched Pim and stolen her from her dead master—I snorted at how wealth had given me freedom but imprisoned my skills with more money than I could ever spend.

What the f*ck was I supposed to do with that?

Where had the fun gone from stealing when I had everything I ever needed?

Not everything.

Growling under my breath, I shoved aside yet more traitorous thoughts.

Maybe that was why I wanted Pimlico’s secrets. Because if she turned out to be as bad as me, if she harboured some awful confession that meant she deserved her fate…then that would grant me peace.

Peace to stop butchering myself with guilt.

Relief that even a girl in torment wasn’t innocent.

Because if she wasn’t innocent, then it didn’t matter what I’d become.

And I could forget the shame that I could never shake.





CAWING OF SEABIRDS was my alarm clock, wrenching my gaze open to a scene I didn’t recognise.

Where am I?

Instantly, my heart buckled its running shoes and prepared to sprint, to hide. Where was the white? Where was the mansion where my blood was spilled daily? Where was Master—

He’s gone.

Dead.

You’re Elder’s now.

That knowledge scattered goosebumps over my arms, injecting me with adrenaline. Sitting up in the softest bed with the warmest blankets, I clutched the sheet to my naked chest as sunlight dappled the inviting space. Chocolate, cream, and lace were decadent reminders of who owned me now.

The gentle swaying spoke of a warm body of water beneath me rather than a cold mountain of dirt.

“Morning, miss.” A maid popped from the bathroom to my right, her arms full of the towels I’d used last night. I didn’t want her picking up my laundry. That was my task. Who was I to deserve to be waited on?

She gave me a gentle smile, scooping up my discarded nightgown from the floor.

The moment Elder left last night, I’d done what he’d suggested. I’d drawn a bath, and while the tub filled with lazy bubbles, I’d gazed out to sea, clutching my origami boat, wishing I could somehow turn it into a larger vessel and sail far, far away.

The kind generosity in which Elder treated me with weighed on me more and more. The kiss we’d shared. The way he’d watched me. His tattoo. His temper.

Every snippet of interaction layered me with fearful hesitation. I couldn’t stop worrying as I’d wriggled from the cotton nightgown. Up until now, I hadn’t attempted to shed the gown even though the itch to fling it far away grew more intolerable every hour. I didn’t because Dr. Michaels expected a woman who needed to cover up after her ordeal. To camouflage her scars and pretend it never happened.

The opposite was true.

Nakedness had been used as a weapon against me. To strip me bare; to teach me I had nothing of my own—no value but the skin I lived in. My body was the only thing I would ever call mine, but in that simplicity I found power. I never had to suffer ropes or chains made out of silk or velvet. Never had to suffocate in elastic or zippers.

I was free.

As the muggy air licked my skin and the warm bubbles of the bath crept up my legs as I gingerly lowered myself into it, I found some sense of normalcy after so much strangeness.

I wished Elder had told me at lunch what he expected. Was it sex? Entertaining his friends? What would he make me do to pay back the delicious meals, vanilla-scented bed sheets, and pretty maids bustling around keeping my room—the room he’d given me—clean.

“Breakfast is on the table.” The girl brushed aside a sable curl that’d stuck to her pink cheek. “Porridge with brown sugar, I believe.”

I’d never had porridge in my life. The thought of opening my aching mouth and inserting food for my mangled tongue to push and swallow was too much.

I was hungry but not hungry enough to activate more pain.

Especially for porridge.

However, the maid didn’t need to know that. I smiled. I didn’t nod as that would be overstepping my communication guidelines, but I ensured she understood I was grateful.

She moved toward the door. “By the way, your wardrobe has a few sundresses and other nightgowns inside. Once we dock, I’m sure Mr. Prest will send one of his assistants to buy you more if you wish.”

One of his assistants?

How many does he have?

My gaze travelled to the walk-in wardrobe that I hadn’t ventured into. I smiled again, knowing full well I wouldn’t wear any of the given items while I was alone in this suite. If I explored the ship like Elder said I could, then perhaps I would cover myself for the sake of his staff, but the moment I was alone…