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Shit.
I feigned indifference, walking slowly into the room and trying to look anywhere but at what he was holding. The small scar in my unharmed wrist throbbed painfully, threatening to burst and spill all of my secrets.
Dornan watched me enter the room with amusement, licking his lips as he took me in from head to toe.
‘What’s this?’ I asked, picking up on the vibe that something was different about today. Different from his friendly manner of yesterday, when he’d liked my blood and bandaged me up.
‘Clothes off,’ he said.
I choked. So this was really happening. My skin burned at the thought of being separated from my dress.
‘Why?’ I asked.
He waved the scanner in his hand. ‘A little bird told me you’ve got treasure hidden somewhere. I want to go treasure hunting.’
Asshole.
‘What are you talking about?’ I stalled.
He took a step towards me, erasing the space between us. I tried to back up and ended up with the backs of my calves pressed against the bed frame.
‘I think you know what I’m talking about,’ he said. ‘If you tell me where it is, you can keep your dress on.’
I glared at him.
‘Or maybe you want to take it off for me?’
‘Go fuck yourself,’ I muttered.
He tensed momentarily. ‘Dress off it is. Hurry up. Or I’ll kick your ribs until the rest of them are broken, too.’
I scowled at him, but I started to lift my dress up, praying that the chip was redundant and that his scanner wouldn’t pick it up. I was terrified of him finding the chip and having a reason to cut me. I might have hurt myself sometimes and relished the pain, but it was about emotion, about the control I sought to wield over those emotions.
Just because I sometimes enjoyed cutting into my own flesh didn’t make me want someone else cutting into it.
Just because I was becoming accustomed to being in pain didn’t mean I enjoyed it.
My eyes watered as fresh pain spiked in my chest. I gasped and dropped the hem of my dress.
‘I can’t,’ I said, clutching my side.
He rolled his eyes and set the scanner down on the small pine table that stood next to my bed.
I didn’t fight when he reached out and slid the thin strap of my dress over my shoulder and down my arm, then repeated the action with the other side. He gave a solid tug, and I looked away as my lace-covered breasts emerged from the dress, popping out dramatically as the tight material slid down and over my waist. He whistled in appreciation, and my cheeks burned in response.
‘You could just tell me where it is,’ he said, chuckling. ‘Then I wouldn’t have to do this.’
I stared at the floor. Screw him. Although it killed me to be so exposed, I refused to give him the satisfaction of my complicity. If he wanted to find a microchip underneath my skin he could damn well go searching for it.
The dress pooled at my feet and I cringed at the sudden exposure. I was well aware of how I looked in the very revealing, plunging, boosting and altogether ridiculous black lace underwear that Murphy had insisted on buying when he stocked my suitcase for our fake-cation.
Dornan took a step back and grinned. ‘I didn’t pick you for a lingerie model,’ he said appreciatively.
I snapped my gaze up to his, furious. ‘It was that asshole Murphy,’ Ispat. ‘He said if I didn’t wear this —’
Oh.
Dornan frowned. ‘If you didn’t wear this, what?’
