He paused his story and looked expectantly at her.
Throat dry, she asked, “And you found them?” She wanted to ask what had happened to her mother. Likely not a safe conversational direction.
“Oh yes, I found them.” Again, that smile. “You. You were the beginning of a very profitable revenue stream.”
Her blood ran cold. He sounded eager to tell her all about it. That couldn’t be good. “The courier business?”
He laughed. “No. It started with umbilical cells when you were born. Then I realized that I had my own source of healthy young organs.”
Her hands dropped to her torso, her stomach. She had all her organs. Right? Her medical records said she did, but she knew those records had been manipulated.
“Organ donation?” The words were oily on her tongue.
“Less donation. More,” he paused, and she watched him search for the right word, “insurance.”
“Do you mean…” The concept was so terrible she could barely force the words out. “Spare parts? For Portia?” If Portia had been injured and Dizzie hadn’t delivered the bomb, would they have tried as hard to find her? To save Portia?
His laugh sent chills up her spine. “Not for Portia.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I can always have another heir. But I won’t live forever. Yet.”
Ohgodohgodohgod!Bile surged in her throat. She choked it back.
She’d trapped herself in a room with her long-lost father, an egomaniacal madman. This was the kind of story the crazy gossip mags published. The ones with alien babies and science gone wrong. Stories so crazy, no one believed them.
“Oh,” she said, because he seemed to expect a response. If he was waiting for hysterics, well, she was trying very hard to keep that from happening. Her nails curled into her palms and she focused on the pain, not the panic.
“Yes, oh.” He clasped his hands together on the desk and smiled.
“So, um, you’re pretty healthy right now, right?” Dizzie hadn’t heard otherwise, but couriers weren’t on the need-to-know list.
“I’m generally healthy, yes.”
“That’s good.” She scooted to the edge of her seat. “Thank you for your time. I should probably get going. I’ll be sure to keep myself healthy, in case you, uh, need me.” She stood, dying to run, hoping it wasn’t obvious.
“Aren’t you the conscientious daughter?” He sounded almost…touched. “Unfortunately, I can’t let you leave.”
Dizzie froze but didn’t sit back down. She had to keep her wits if she were going to make it out of here alive. “You can’t?” Her voice squeaked.
“Unh-unh. There’s still the little matter of the bombing.”
Right. The bombing. She hadn’t forgotten about it, but it suddenly seemed a lot less important in light of everything she learned. “I had nothing to do with it.”
“I don’t care. You’d be more interesting if you had. It’s a good thing I’m more interested in your body than your mind.”
Gross.Her stomach churned, but she ignored it.Don’t show weakness. Don’t show weakness.
“Portia wants me dead.” Why had she said that?
“As she should.” Tremaine didn’t sound concerned at all that his heir wanted to kill his back-up plan.
How was she part of this family? She wished she could take back the last two days, pretend she didn’t know.
“Still,” he said, “since it’s in my best interest to keep you around, I may be willing to help find the person behind the bombing.”
For days, that had been what she had wanted. Now, when it was so close, she wondered what the cost would be. Did it matter since he already owned her?
“I was never going to be able to buy out my contract, was I?” It was a moment of clarity she’d never expected.
“Probably not.” He clasped his hands on the desk in front of him. He looked thoughtful, rather than apologetic. “I hadn’t decided. I enjoyed watching you try. You were very industrious and I respect that. Maybe you’d have done it if you outlived me. But since I was keeping you on hand to extend my life…” His words hung in the air between them, a threat she’d never known existed.
