Dinner last night was probably the most awkward experience in mankind's history.
I got the feeling that Killian and his dad didnt get along much. And throughout the drive to this fancy ass hospital the morning, killian looked lost, almost guilty everything he met my gaze.
We sat in some kind of ward, the windows drawn up enough for the light in the room to be almost painful to my eyes, and the yellow painted walls weren't doing much to improve the situation either. The handsome piece of expensive shit sleeping in a chair next to me wasn't much help as well.
"Look at me miss." The nurse in the blue scrubs said, pointing a light straight at my face, causing me to wince.
"Ow, what the hell is that for?" The irritation felt unavoidable. After three days, my position still remained unclear. My old miserable life could be staring at right now waving and my stupid ass smile wouldn't waver.
"Sorry love. I just need to check your pupils again, it's procedure. We're done with your full body check up anyway. We'll be able to clear you of diseases once your blood sample results come back. It shouldn't be long now." She had something close to a British accent, though extremely forced down. Like she wanted to hide it.
"So far they're isn't anything wrong with her right?" Killian sat forward on the black cushioned chair next to the hospital bed. He'd been silent like a fucking ninja the whole time, only speaking to calm me down when the nurses came close enough to frighten me, he really seemed to be asleep.
"She has a few wounds, I've treated those and I'll have the doctor prescribe some painkillers." Her head snapped back to me. "As long as you take things easy, none of those wounds should reopen. I don't know what happened to you, but you're very strong for making it this far Miss Morozcov."
As she retreatd from the room, a new sense of dread washed over me. Miss Morozcov. It made me feel like some kind of fraud. And in a few minutes, Killian would know the truth and ship me back to Vegas by sundown.
"Sir?"
"Killian." He grunted out, leaning back into his chair and slapping a palm over his face like he wanted to go back to meditating or whatever he'd been doing.
"Killian. What happens if I'm really not_" my words were cut off when the glass translucent door of the ward was pushed open, hitting the metal table of medical equipment next to it.
"Sorry about that. And also about the delay." A tall blonde guy stepped in, wearing a doctors' coat and scrubs, and holding a stack of papers to his chest.
"You're the doctor? I asked to see doctor Larson. Where have you been? Do you have the results?" Killian stood up so fast, even the doctor stepped back. Whatever trance of moodiness he was in before seamed to have disappeared.
"Yes, I'm doctor Hangrove. Again, I apologise for the delay. I've been with a patient and doctor Larson is currently performing an unexpected surgery. I have both your results right here." His lips spread into a bright, almost ear to ear smile.
He stared at killian. Just staring until Killian actually growled at him. "And?"
"Oh, right sorry." He pulled a few papers from the stack in his hand, settling the rest on the table next to the door.
His hand extended, handing me the first result. "Congratulations, Miss Morozcov. You are perfectly healthy and in great shape. Though I would watch your meals now, you're definitely on the brink of malnourishment." His smile never faded, though the fakeness of it couldn't have been more obvious. Those kinds of smiles where familiar. Always given to me before bad news slammed it's fist into my gut. Always that fucking smile.
Who smiled about someone being on the verge of starvation? Apparently this guy.
"Now, the next result." Killian pushed.
The doctor shuffled on his feet, his smile freezing on his face and appearing almost mechanical.
"Doctor?" My voice was soft, but he still gulped like my words were some kind of threat to him. "The result."
"I don't believe it is still appropriate for me to address you as Miss Morozcov." He pulled out a single sheet of paper and handed it to killian. "You have no relation to that family whatever. If only we have more time to test your DNA further...I doubt you're even of the same nationality."
My heart pounded in my chest as my eyes slipped slowly to Killian. His grip on the piece of paper was tightening, and while his expression was no different from his typical default frown, the anger still felt evident.
"Mr Morozcov, perhaps_"
"Leave us, doctor. Thank you for your time, I'm sure you have much to attend to. Whenever is chanced to, please tell Dr Larson to see me." Killian's eyes never left the result paper even as he spoke.
Doctor Hangrove nodded before scurrying off, clearly desperate to escape Killian's overwhelming presence. A part of me longed to go with him just to escape, while the rest wanted to stay here and trust Killian to not send me back. He'd been kind up to now, and if he hadn't been so obsessed with me being his sister, we might've even fucked.
The silence dragged on, my breaths came out slow and uneven, desperate to not make a sound.
My arm itched, like my mind could already picture the men digging their nails into my skin at the brothel when Killian inevitable returned me. Bile rose to my throat, and it took every ounce of self control in me to not barf all over the bed beneath me.
Fuck. There was no part of me that could go back there. Not after experiencing a taste of freedom these past few days. And if begging was what needed to be done to keep my freedom, then so be it.
"Killian. Sir, I'm so sorry. I don't want to go back there. Not now, not after all this." My body felt stiff, pushing off the hospital bed to a standing position. But Killian still hadn't looked at me, still clutching that piece of paper like his last lifeline was just cut.
His head raised, gaze locking with mine. "You were right. You aren't Stella." There's no disappointment or disapproval. There's no emotion in his voice at all. But his eyes. His eyes screamed, like there's a festered wound in him that was just torn open want again because of me.
"I_I know. I'm so sorry. I'm sorry your sister was taken from you. I'm sorry you had to spend so long searching for her. And I'm sorry for giving you false hope as well. But please_"
"My parents can't find out." He balled the results into his fist, placing his free hand on my shoulder nonchalantly. "I doubt my mother will want to live anymore if I told her. And if they discover that you're the wrong girl, let's just say something terrible will happen. They can't know."
The calm in his voice didn't manage to affect the panic digging through my bones. If anything it ignited it further. "You want us to lie to them? That wasn't what I meant. I can be useful to you some other way."
"Ariella, you have to do this for me. Just until I find Stella. I'm close, I know I am. I'll even pay you off once I find her."
Had he lost his grip on reality or something. He didnt seem to want to sell me, but what he was asking me to do almost didnt make it worth it. "I can't lie to your parents. They'll be able to tell, I know nothing of what Stella's childhood was about."
"You also know nothing about your own childhood either. So let's play that card. You don't remember anything, the doctor said it could be permanent. I'll have Larson fake a report." His eyes scanned my face, probably seeing me for the first time without the illusion of Stella hanging over my head. Then he settled or staring at my lips instead.
"Why can't you just fuck me like a normal client?" Of all the stupid questions that had escaped my lips, this was definitely the dumbest. My brain was officially on vacation here. Where's death when you need her?
His hand on my shoulder tightened softly before crawling up and stroking my lips. Then the hand yanked me closer. "Oh don't worry. You didn't exactly come cheap, and I plan to get my money's worth."
A sliver of shame and hope ignited chest as he spoke. There was another way to secure my place by his side without lying to his parents. The reason he should have bought me in the first place.