Would she understand why I kept what I stole? Or would she hate me for being so fucking selfish?

Not that it mattered. Whatever she’d felt for me when we’d almost kissed was drowned out by her strong barometer of right and wrong.

“I heard of a good restaurant half an hour from here,” Selix said. “If that sounds of interest, I’ll look up directions.”

“By foot or car?”

Selix frowned. “Car, of course.” His lips curled a little as if walking was for paupers, not businessmen.

Pim shuffled, the smoky grey dress hanging off her with no sexuality, which somehow only amplified hers. Her pretty face half-hidden by a sash of dark brown hair.

“I’m in the mood to walk again.” I pushed off, not looking back to see if Pim followed. “Leave the car. We’ll send a crew member to collect it. You’ll come with us.”

It went without saying after the Chinese tour group incident and potential fight over the returned wallet, it was prudent to have Selix close by in case I did anything else idiotic.

“Of course.” Selix fell into step with me. “Do you wish to dine alone? I can return the girl and escort you once she’s safe?”

She’s not going anywhere without me. Pim would eat with me whether she wanted to or not. But just like yesterday, I would give her the illusion of choice and see how she fared.

“If she wants to join me, let her.” I turned to face her with a deliberate cold smile. “After all, it’s her life and decision.”

She scowled as the grey dress licked around her legs. Her skin already pink from the sun.

It seemed she’d already made her choice as she stepped forward with her chin high and gold sandals glinting in preparation for a hike. Michaels had warned me last night that making her do too much exercise could ruin her current healing.

I shouldn’t have brought her. I did the opposite of the right thing.

But I wouldn’t send her away.

Not today.

I gave her a curt nod, and we all moved forward in uniform—a perfect triangle of travel. Me at the apex with Selix on my left and Pim on my right a few steps behind. Talking wasn’t on my agenda and neither was it on Pim’s. I’d thrown on a linen shirt this morning with black slacks, and already sweat stuck the material to my skin. I pitied Selix in his black suit walking in this intense heat, but that was why his salary was so damn good.

I paid for his discomfort and pain to keep me safe.

Leaving the park and entering the busy streets of Morocco, Pim’s tiny feet barely made a sound on the gravelled walkway. This time, we were on the other side of town where undisciplined children and the occasional squawking chicken congested the roads. Despite the lack of resident wealth, high-fashion glass-fronted stores glittered for tourists—two worlds so far apart but sandwiched together so tightly.

Like Pim and me?

I didn’t know the answer because I didn’t know if Pim came from money or poverty.

Yet another question to add to the pyramid of all the others.

Selix kept his distance, dropping back a little more as Pim drew up to my side. We walked that way for a while, falling into a rhythm.

Half-way to the yacht, I still hadn’t seen a restaurant that didn’t look either unsanitary or too crowded. Every few hundred metres, I slowed enough for Pim to catch up. Whatever aches she suffered slowed her considerably more than yesterday.

I hated that I’d been the cause of some of her sprains and pain. But her presence didn’t relax me, so it was only fair we were both uncomfortable.

Even the manic world of Morocco couldn’t distract me from being all too aware of her soft breathing and sweat-gleaming skin. If the sun caught her shoulders just right, it painted her in a golden glow, hiding the remnants of bruises, making her seem ready for harsher manipulation to talk.

Her time is running out—

“Hey, Prest!”

Shit.

I pulled to a stop, looking through the crowds for whoever had recognised me. Pim stiffened, drawing to a halt.

A man I vaguely recognised appeared in a rumpled maroon suit and black shirt. Glossy gel lacquered his dark blond hair, making him seem sleazy despite the expensive tailoring.

His hand speared out as he grinned. “Been wondering if I’d ever bump into you again.” He pumped my palm as if I was his long lost brother.

Who the fuck is this?

“Do I know you?”

The guy wrinkled his nose. His unkempt beard caught the light as his gaze flicked from me to Pim and back again. “Hong Kong, four years ago? We were at the same dinner party.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Remember?”

My brain kicked into gear, sorting through memories I no longer had any urge to recall. And there, sulking at the very bottom covered in shame and guilt, was the dinner party in question.

I clenched my jaw. “Ah yes, Darren?”

“Dafford.” The guy grinned. “Dafford Cartwright.” His attention slipped back to Pim.

Livid acrimony and disgust filled me. A growl built from nowhere. I knew why he watched her—why he looked at her with carnivorous eyes and not that of a normal man.

That dinner party hadn’t just been a dinner. It had been a meal, yes. But on the tears and fears of women. Strippers had been hired to entertain, but they hadn’t signed up for the bonus activities the men decided were in order.

Force had been used.

I hadn’t done what they had, but I hadn’t tried to stop it either. I was there to step into the underworld. What was the point in showing my hand to the devils I was trying to play with by stopping their fun?