Dollars (Dollar #2)(33)

Who am I anymore? Who do I want to be? What will become of me when my tongue heals and nothing but my stubbornness keeps me silent?



The moment I scrawled the last question mark, my eyes drooped as if my mind had only kept me awake to spew out the disease-like questions.

I didn’t even place the notepad and pen on the bedside table. I did the only thing I could.

I sprawled out on the pillows and fell into a deep, delicious sleep where Elder waited…promising not to hurt me.





A TRUCE HAD formed.

Too f*cking bad I had to leave before making it solid.

After leaving Pimlico on the deck last night, I’d checked my emails before retiring and found an urgent one from my warehouses in Monaco. I was needed for an issue the manager did not wish to discuss via electronic correspondence.

So as any good CEO and leader would do, I replied saying I would be there first thing in the morning and made the arrangements with the pilot on staff to ready the helicopter.

Anger curdled my stomach wondering if this was the moment my past caught up with me. I’d been hunted before. Had I been found again?

By nine a.m. we were airborne over the Mediterranean, flying to my ship builder empire and the port I’d wanted to stop in but didn’t have time between our commitments.

At least, I had wings this time. Wings were faster than sails, and it meant I could do both with no ill effects.

Knowing Pim was on an armoured yacht far away from whatever mess I was about to walk into, I disembarked the helicopter and stepped onto firm ground.

A mixture of repulsion and relief flooded me.

I liked it here. In fact, Monaco was the only place on land where I genuinely felt at peace. However, I was never fully free without the undulating power of water beneath my toes—especially if my sins had finally caught up with me.

What if you don’t return?

I shut that thought off immediately.

It didn’t matter that I’d left without a word. It didn’t matter if I never went back for her. Pim wasn’t my equal. She didn’t need to know my whereabouts or me to ask f*cking permission.

But the truce...

The truce would stand.

In fact, the time away would only work to my advantage because her tongue would have another few hours of healing before we met again.

Nodding at my manager, Charlton Tommas, I strode from the helipad and into the huge warehouse where floating dreams were made.

“What seems to be the problem?”

Charlton gnawed on his bottom lip, his eyes darting away in panic. All thoughts of Pimlico vanished as he whispered, “There’s been a murder.”





HE LEFT WITHOUT a word.

He stayed away for two nights, three days.

In that time, I had good hours and bad.

I ate what was delivered, and each meal was slighter easier than the last. Dr. Michaels visited me again to ensure my tongue was healing, and the swelling continued to abate as my body rehabilitated.

I wrote notes to No One before tossing them out to sea, as if the ocean had become my own personal wishing well for things I could never have.

No matter the peace I was given or the safety in which I hovered, I still didn’t trust those around me. Even the girl who came to clean my room and dole out fresh towels was kept at a distance. However, if she didn’t like to natter while working—nerves caused by my silence—I would never have known Elder had left and wasn’t just sulking somewhere on his giant ship.

I’d never heard the helicopter take off (I didn’t even know there was one), and once the maid left that first morning, I’d sat on the balcony, staring at the sky, looking for a speck of the returning craft.

Thoughts of pillaging Elder’s office for clues on how to end my captivity taunted me. I remembered the password he’d had me type before calling my mother on his phone. I had a way to contact the outside world…I think.

I desperately wanted to know more about him.

The second afternoon, when I’d given into the stupid urge to snoop, I’d spent hours stalking the corridors for his work space. But I hadn’t found it thanks to locked doors and no skills at lock picking.

And even if I had managed to break into his domain and read his emails or understood what he kept hidden, what would that achieve?

We were in the middle of the ocean.

Apart from knocking out countless staff and learning how to fire a flare or call the Coast Guard, I wasn’t equipped to go to battle with him.

I wasn’t lazy or fearful…I liked to think it was smart to bide my time and let Elder grant more snippets of his life. Already, he’d given me clues in the way he acted and the respectful way his staff went about their chores even though he wasn’t here to oversee.

They worked diligently because he deserved it not because he commanded it.

A tyrant wouldn’t have such loyalty. And I was willing to give him more time before I made up my mind. Everyone was worthy of that, even men who owned another’s life—especially a man who’d saved another’s life.

I was aware my thoughts were a walking contradiction.

By the third evening, when the Phantom had passed inlets and peninsulas and other yachts nowhere near as fine sailed through our wake, the faint whop-whop of flying machinery sounded.

As the sun set over the sea, a sleek helicopter appeared on the horizon, slowly growing larger the closer it came.