Page 72 of Bought By Sin

I shook my head. “I didn’t tell them anything. I didn’t.”

He urged me to lie back, smoothing my hair from my face as he lowered with me to lie on his side and face me. “I know.”

I furrowed my brow. “How?”

“Because that’s who you are.”

It sounded like praise, but after the mess I’d gone through, I didn’t know if I could trust what he said. Was he implying that he could count on the same loyalty from me that he got from his brother and cousins?

“They ambushed me in that last office,” I said, suddenly pushed to tell him all that I could remember. “I was tackled so hard that my hat and the camera fell. The comms unit was knocked out of my ear.”

He listened, stroking my hair back from my face. If I could lower my guard, I’d be duped into thinking he needed the contact to reassure himself that I was here with him and that we weren’t separated.

I told him the figments of what I could recall. That the comms unit was stepped on and smashed. That I had no chance to defend myself or escape. And that when they hit me, I didn’t speak once. They wouldn’t have ever gotten a single word from me, my only power and leverage to keep my words to myself.

“We saw the feed go out. Then your tracker cut out. We knew something was wrong, and I ordered the men to go in and get you out of there.”

“I’m sorry.”

He narrowed his eyes, cupping my head. “No. You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I failed⁠—”

“You succeeded. You got images of so many things the men are searching through. Do you not remember grabbing that USB drive?”

I frowned, lowering my gaze to zone out at the thick lines of black forming the tattoo on his chest, the complicated design that often peeked out from his collar. “I… don’t remember. I fell and tried to catch myself on the edge of a desk, and I think something knocked against my hand, but I don’t…” I frowned at him. “I don’t remember. I couldn’t think straight.”

He kissed my brow. “Don’t force it. Don’t put yourself in those memories.” He kissed me again, and I sighed at the pressure of his warm lips on my forehead. The gesture of fondness. It wasn’t sexual, but affectionate. “You must have slipped it up into your sleeve. Autopilot, maybe. But you had that drive and we have a team going through the maps and information on it.”

“So I didn’t fail.”

He smoothed my hair back again, gazing at me with so much emotion that it threatened to overwhelm me. Pampered and safe in his bed, under his attention, I felt treasured. Secure. Wanted and worthy. I had never experienced care like this, and I weakened under the intensity of how freeing and how purifying it could be on my dark soul.

“You did not fail. Even if you hadn’t gotten that drive, you did not fail. You couldn’t ever call yourself a failure because you show up determined to help the family. To serve me.”

I sniffled, burrowing my face into the pillow more. Anything to reduce the intensity of him looking at me like that. Like I could be right in this secret, stupid wish that he could see me as someone worthy and lovable, not a thing to work for him. The pride, the gratitude, and the awe. They all registered in his face, threatening to overstimulate me.

“Rest,” he said, no doubt sensing how overwhelmed I was. “I’ve had your things moved over from the safehouse.”

I opened my eyes, stunned.

“Rest,” he repeated, probably counting on an argument from me.

I closed my eyes, though, still so tired, and did as he requested.

Between naps and lounging around, I rested. I gave my body a chance to recover. Lev was never far, on his phone or laptop as he stayed in the room with me. A doctor and nurse also came to check on me that first day afterward, and I was relieved that nothing had been broken or severely injured. My ribs were bruised, but that would heal with time.

Another day passed with this expectation that I rest and not push myself to do anything strenuous, not even reaching for a glass of water as I shifted to sit up more.

Lev had stepped out of the room to get something from the kitchen, and without him in here to assist me with something as simple as picking up a glass of water from the nightstand, I tensed and freaked out at how much I was coming to depend on him.

It wasn’t easy for me to lose my independence. It was all I’d ever held on to as a ticket to my freedom. But wounded and weak like this, I couldn’t deny that my connection that linked me to Lev—as his responsibility, as his slave—made me worry when he wasn’t near.

I stretched my arm to get the glass of water, testing the limits of how much pain I could endure. My side ached. Pain radiated from the tenderness of where my ribs hurt most.

And I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t fend for myself, so tired and worn out and still recovering.