Page 29 of Secured By the Buyer

I can’t help but be suspicious. “Because you don’t want video evidence of owning a slave?”

He shakes his head again, this time more firmly. “They’re not on because the only reason security has to peek in on me in here is if I hit the alarm or they think I’m being attacked. But the ones in the living room are live, so there are witnesses who have seen you here.”

My pulse quickens as I hug my legs tighter. “Are you going to let me go?”

Regret fills his eyes once more, and bile rises in the back of my throat again. “No, Milo. I’m not letting you go.”

As those words sink in, I lunge for the toilet, emptying the meager contents of my stomach.

10

Remnants of vomit cling to my tongue as I struggle to catch my breath.

Behind me, Liam holds my hair in one hand while he strokes my back with the other. “All done?”

My body heaves again, but nothing comes up, and I spit into the porcelain bowl before raising a shaky arm to pull down the lever on the side. The water swirls down the drain, taking with it the contents of my stomach. I fumble one-handed with the bath wipes, tearing off a few squares to wipe at my mouth.

Spitting again, I flush the toilet for a second time.

“Let me help you up.” Large hands cup my waist, lifting me to my feet.

I sway as I catch my balance. Liam keeps one hand on me as he leans to the side and lowers the lid.

I fall more than sit on it and lean forward, my hair screening my face as I struggle for breath.

“Here.” Liam presses a toothbrush into my free hand, paste already applied to the bristles. “Don’t you dare try to stab me with this.”

Despite the hint of amusement in his voice, caution tempers the words, and I roll my eyes as I take the toothbrush. “This would be easier to do at the sink.”

Liam’s focus drops to my semi-exposed body, then shifts to the mirrors that hang on the wall. “Just stay seated and brush your teeth.”

Confused, I mutter, “Fine, whatever.”

I do as I’m told while Liam rummages inside the vanity, producing a bottle of rubbing alcohol and some cotton swabs. The astringent disinfectant fills the air as he dampens a swab before kneeling in front of me to dab at my chest.

I flinch from the cold as memories of the auction flood back, and I remember the man who scrawled my worth on my bare skin. My stomach twists with the threat of more vomit, but I have nothing left to throw up.

“Y’know, you overpaid for me,” I say, trying tosound brave. “They didn’t even have time to test me for STDs or check to see if I was used goods.”

Liam doesn’t take his focus from his task, but a crooked grin spreads across his face. “Well, if you’ve got any diseases, we’ll go through treatment together. It’ll be a bonding experience for us.”

“Ugh, you’re so stupid.” I turn my head away from him. “I don’t have any STDs.”

I finish brushing my teeth, the minty paste a welcome distraction while Liam scrubs away the value of my life.

With only my left arm free, it’s awkward to toss the toothbrush toward the sink on my right, but I manage. Then I run into the dilemma of having nowhere to spit. Glaring at Liam, I let the foam dribble out onto my expensive-looking silk pajamas.

“Classy,” he comments as some of the drool gets on him, too.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Told you that you overpaid.”

Amusement curls the corners of his lips. “If you wanted a bath, you could’ve just said so.”

“I prefer showering,” I retort, eyeing the claw-footed tub in the corner of the bathroom.

He caps the bottle of rubbing alcohol and sets it on the counter, well out of reach. “Well, I’m okaywith that if you’re open to me joining you. My shower isn’t baby-proofed.”

Yeah, that’s not happening. “Bath is fine.”

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