Page 53 of Worth

“Claire,” Zander says, his voice brokering no arguments, “I need you at the house.”

It takes me a moment to realize he’s talking to someone on the phone.

“Bring it all. The girl has gone a week without food, and she couldn’t afford to lose any more weight as it was. Aiden was supposed to be here while I was gone, but I don’t know where the fuck he is.”

Zander was gone too? I can’t help but be surprised at that. I could have sworn he had been there, taunting me each time he walked by the door.

“Hurry.”

The straw stutters on air and broth, and Zander takes it away from me. I want more, but I also feel kind of like I might puke. Like a lot.

Urgh.

“Blake.”

I blink a few times, finally opening my eyes. I tip my head up so I can look at him. I mostly get there, able to see his beard and nothing else. His fingers hook under chin, helping me angle it back further so I can see his whole face.

“I’m really fucking sorry.”

Fatigue overrides my absolute astonishment at the admission. My eyes close and I almost immediately fall asleep. “S’okay,” I mumble. “I’m used to it. I’m not worth the trouble.”

Zander shakes me, none too gently, making my head flop around. “Stay awake, baby girl,” he urges. “You need to stay awake for me until Claire gets here.”

“Baby girl?” I sigh, but I can’t force myself to open my eyes again. “It’s weird that you call me that since you hate me, you dickbag.”

It’s quiet a moment and then his arms enfold me, tucking me into his heat as he picks me up and starts walking again. “I don’t hate you.”

I let out a combination of a laugh and a dismissing huff. “Could have fooled me.”

I don’t register what it is at first, but something warm presses against my face again and again—my cheeks, my forehead, my closed eyes, my nose, my chin, over my lips. My eyes finally open when I realize that Zander is running his rough fingers over every inch of my skin and I find his own dark eyes boring into mine.

“Looking for your cum?” I ask wryly. “I had time to clean up.”

His movement pauses, his eyes showing a flicker of regret, and he opens his mouth.

“Zander?” a female voice calls, the front door slamming.

“Living room!” he shouts, making me cringe at the loudness.

“Can I sleep now?” I mutter, eyes fluttering as they try to shut.

“Almost, Blake,” he says, setting me on the couch and shaking me again. “A few more minutes. I want you to get this IV in first.”

“What the eff, Zander?” the female voice hisses.

“Claire, just help her,” Zander answers, lightly tapping on my face to keep my eyes popping open.

“Did you give her anything?” Claire snaps.

“Just broth.”

The woman kneels into my line of sight, and I am only able to focus on her for a moment. She gives me a tight smile, her honey brown skin flushed with anger along her nose and high cheekbones. “Hi, darlin’,” she murmurs. “I need you to hold still for me, okay?”

I hum, unable to force an actual laugh. “I’ve had water,” I tell her. “That’s it. For the last week.”

Her eyes narrow, shooting up to Zander, but then she sets about sticking an IV in my arm with expert ease. Before I know it, my arm feels colder as fluids drain from the hanging bag into my arm.

“I’m going to kick Aiden’s behind when I see him next,” Claire sniffs, injecting something from the syringe she jabbed into my thigh with enough force to make me yelp in surprise. She shoots me an apologetic look, rubbing at the injection site briskly once the needle is out.

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