Mainly because I wasn’t a fucking idiot like Alrik.
His slave girl obeyed him, but she hated him with the death of a thousand shadows. And where I came from…that was not a good death. If my nickname were Kaitou for Phantom Thief, hers would be Mokusatsu. Kill with Silence.
She absorbed everything, just waiting for her opportunity to end his life.
Good luck to her.
In the brief interaction I’d had with them, she deserved to win over this overly pampered rich dick. She just had to notice her power and commit.
“It’s not exhausting to be thorough.” I fisted my fingers, holding back my wrath. “It’s exhausting to enter into business with untrustworthy people.”
Alrik frowned. “Look, you knew the deal when you got here. You were highly recommended. Don’t make me regret inviting you into my home.”
I laughed. This asshole thought he was better than me. That he could win.
Wrong.
Ignoring him, I once again looked at the slave on the floor. I hated the way she kept drawing me to her. She wasn’t acting. She truly was fighting to survive. But the humming vibration of her determined strength was a drug to me.
Patting the couch, I murmured, “Sit here, girl.”
Her shoulders rolled as she bowed deeper into the carpet. Her tattered hair shivered as she glanced at her master.
Alrik tried to slaughter me with his eyes.
If I were any other person, from any other background, I might’ve second-guessed my decision to play with his possessions.
But he did say I could share.
And I wasn’t afraid of him. I was never afraid of pretenders.
Silence fell, clashing with temper from Alrik, terror from Pimlico, and authority from me.
Guess who fucking won?
Alrik threw back his third bourbon. “Go to him, Pim.”
Instantly, the girl levered herself from her knees and scurried to my side.
My heart pounded as she perched like a frail bird on the stark white leather, her thighs bunched—ready to fly away if Alrik changed his mind.
Judging by the way she kept her body facing him, I guessed he changed his mind a lot—either to spite or hurt her.
Peering at my ruined jacket with its dripping wet cuffs and slouchy way it hung off her shoulders, I ordered, “Give her permission to obey me without having to go through you.” I glanced up, catching Alrik’s eye with the command.
Do it.
What the fuck was I doing?
This girl didn’t matter. I ran the risk of destroying this business deal. Then again…did I care?
I paused, taking stock of what it would mean if I deliberately sabotaged this transaction. Sure, I’d be out of pocket by millions. But I had more than I could count and it wasn’t about the money. Yes, I’d lose the notoriety I’d done my best to earn. Finally cracking open the realm where, up till now, I’d been denied. But I didn’t need fucking Alrik to open doors for me. I could kick them down on my own damn accord.
No, this girl interested me more than Alrik ever could. She was worth the price tag if it all fell to shit.
Alrik glowered at his slave before giving me a curt nod. He’d disliked me before. Now, he hated me.
I smiled coldly. “You did say I could share.”
The girl shivered, her body sending minor ripples along the couch. I hadn’t touched her yet but every nerve ending shot to intensity.
“Pimlico.” Alrik sat forward, his hand clutched white-tight around his glass. “Obey Mr. Prest as you obey me. Got it? Do whatever he wants without question.”
I fought the thrill running down my spine.
Pimlico glanced at me, before dropping her gaze to the floor. She didn’t nod or give any indication of agreement.
But I knew she’d heard, evaluated, and accepted the new terms.
The fact she didn’t talk fuelled my interest—not because I wanted her silent secrets but because she challenged me to do what my teacher had taught a decade ago: ‘Listen with your entire body, not just your ears. Watch with your entire being, not just your eyes. And judge with your entire soul, not just shallow perception.’
I hadn’t forgotten that lesson. I wasn’t a person to educate and then waste that education by letting such valuable knowledge fade. But she was a good refresher.
I wanted to be alone with her. To ask her questions that she wouldn’t answer but I would earn her reply anyway. I wanted to steal her so my own disciplinary hand delivered her bruises not this lying asshole’s.
Testing her obedience, I patted my thigh. “Come closer.”
For a second, she hesitated. Her lips pursed, but her hand crept slowly outward, pulling herself forward.
She didn’t come as near as I wanted—her leg still created a chasm between us—but I inhaled, doing my best to smell her.
She smelled of nothing.
No, that wasn’t true.
She smelled of fucking desperation.
Wanting to change her opinion of me, to kiddingly prove I wasn’t such a bad guy, I rested my hand on her thigh.
She jolted but stayed seated even though her eyes narrowed with fury.
Her skin was ice beneath my touch; her white skirt offered no thermal properties.
Alrik never took his livid glare off me as I stroked her with a gentleness I doubted she’d had in years.
Instead of relaxing, she only stiffened further.
If I were a kind man, I would’ve removed my hand and allowed her to return to her crouch on the floor where she obviously felt some semblance of safety.
But I wasn’t a nice man.
I was a tormentor. A killer. A thief.
And I wanted to steal her courage drop by fucking drop.
WORDS AND VOICES and business.
How long did I sit there? Chained by invisible tethers to a man I had to obey just as absolute as my master.
My eyelids drooped as jargon and empty promises flew around the room.
I had no idea what arrangement Master A entered with Mr. Prest, but whatever it was, it held a price tag of over thirty million dollars and came with uttered phrases such as ‘undetectable, irrefutable, and ironclad in both speed and delivery.’
It’d been so long since I’d listened to the ebb and flow of normal conversation that it lulled me into a semi-relaxed state. I wasn’t the centre of attention, and a barked command between these two men were their issue, not mine.
Subtly, I rubbed my knees where constant bruises from kneeling marred my flesh. The white skirt irritated me as it clung tight while my ribs and belly ached from their earlier beating.
As nice as this reprieve was—no matter how grateful I was to be sitting on a settee after years of grovelling—it didn’t come without consequences.
I’ll be shared tonight.
Just like most nights.
Mr. Prest had been given carte blanche to control me, which Tony, Darryl, and Monty were never given. He could ask me to do anything, and I’d have to obey. And once I’d obeyed, Master A would hurt me because he hated others taking liberties he hadn’t given.
I’d seen it first-hand when Tony went too far and took something from me he wasn’t supposed to take. He hadn’t returned for a fortnight because of the wounds Master A had inflicted.
Whoever Mr. Prest was, he must have something of priceless importance for Master A to tolerate me even sitting on his furniture, let alone permitted to listen to such incomprehensible lingo.
Master A sipped another shot. “And you’ll install top-of-the-line ghost deflectors?”
“As per your request, yes.”
“And the weaponry will be far superior to what they’ll use in retaliation?”
Mr. Prest stiffened. “Do you doubt my work ethic and the contract?”
“No. But it is a lot of money and a sensitive arrangement.”
“As are all my transactions. Utmost discretion is required from both parties. Not just me.” Mr. Prest raised his eyebrow, disrega
rding Master A’s pompous accusation. “Do I have your oath that you’ll never mention my name or the origins of the weaponry on board upon delivery of the vessel?”
Huh?
The sleepiness I’d been cursed with snapped into awareness. A crackle of adrenaline flooded my nervous system. What were they discussing? Vessels and weapons?
What is this?
Master A had said something about Mr. Prest being at sea for a few months and in need of female companionship.
Was he in the Navy? Selling State secrets and espionage?
Master A nodded. “Of course. But only if the torpedoes aren’t detectable by radar.”
“With increasing technology these days, it’s not completely guaranteed.”
“And you’re sure you can’t get a nuclear warhead. I’d pay extra.”
“I told you I don’t deal in those. If you want them, it won’t be through me.” Mr. Prest’s voice dropped to a growl. “But you’re already aware of those terms.” His eyes flickered to mine, their endless depths sucking light and life from me. “What do you think, Pimlico? Want to be locked on a boat rather than in a mansion? Your master here seems to be going to war.”
A boat?
War?
What the hell is he talking about?
I couldn’t visualize such a thing. An image of a dinghy with oars for propulsion and wooden sides to prevent drowning came to mind. Why would anyone want to trade a house for that?
Gritting my teeth, I looked over Mr. Prest’s shoulder, ignoring the question.
I didn’t care that I didn’t understand. What I cared about was he’d tried to trip me into replying.
It won’t work.
I’d had years of practice.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he won’t take you to war.” His hand landed possessively on my thigh. “And if he did, at least you might find what you’re looking for.”
I froze.
What?
What am I looking for?
How would you know what I need?
Even as my questions solidified, I doubted my conviction.
I survived in this world with tiny goals that kept me strong. I took pleasure from avoiding a broken arm by doing tasks before being asked. I was awarded extra hours of sleep or hard-won dinners when I successfully hid my hate.
I did all that because I needed something to reward myself with. If I didn’t, whispers of ending it were never far away. If I focused on small things, I could ignore the tug of freedom.
But if I didn’t…death.
It was a calculated vindictive seducer, promising an end to pain and suffering. I’d listened once and would’ve obeyed its commands if the knives hadn’t disappeared. I’d thought my momentary weakness was over.
I lied.
The murmurs of taking my own life hid in the panic attacks that lay waiting to pounce when my strength wavered. I was no longer completely whole—parts of me had become an enemy, wanting me to die rather than survive.
He’s sniffed suicide on me.
He’d done it the second he’d laid eyes on me; the same way I’d tasted he was more than a businessman and aristocratic bastard.
He was a killer.
And a good one seeing as he was here with us and not caught.
Mr. Prest’s fingers drifted down my thigh and dug into my knee—just like Master A’s had on the plane ride here. Unlike before, when that little threat had freaked me out, it was nothing compared to what I’d endured. I was trained in touches like those.
I didn’t jolt as Mr. Prest squeezed and relaxed, palpitating my joint, forcing my body to pay attention. However, as my muscles locked for abuse and my heart scurried with nervousness, his touch switched from testing to calming.
His breathing turned shallow as he dropped his gaze to where our two bodies met. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
Please.
As if I haven’t heard that one before.
I wanted to roll my eyes at his empty promise, but I didn’t dare. Who knew what Master A would do? He might carve out my eyeballs with a spoon if I showed any more rebellion.
Master A cleared his throat, his focus riveted on where Mr. Prest touched me. He vibrated with loathing and jealousy, even though he was the one who offered me up to sweeten whatever deal they’d concocted.
“Do you get to experience things like fresh air and new places, Pim?” Mr. Prest never stopped stroking. His fingers slowly left my knee, going slightly higher with each stroke.
Just like my taste buds came alive after a few mouthfuls of delicious food, so too did my skin as I received gentle caresses for the first time in so long.
My flesh turned itchy and hot, straining with sensation for more.
Traitor.
I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze to go hazy and not focus on the man touching me, my master, or the things I would be made to do in my future.
“She’s not a damn dog, Elder.” Master A chuckled. “I don’t clip on a leash and take her for a walk to the fucking park. She’s a whore. This is her home. She doesn’t need to go anywhere.”
Yes. Yes, I do.
I need to go somewhere.
Far away from you.
Far away from this cage.
Mr. Prest’s fingernails replaced his soft caress, branding my thigh. “Third slip, Mr. Åsbjörn. One more and this fucking deal is off. I don’t care if production is arranged and contracts are drawn up.” His hand left my skin, flying up in a wedge of severity to point at Master A. “Use my first name once more and you’ll never speak again. Got it?”
I shivered as the same hand that vibrated with violence fell back onto my body. One moment, vicious and resolute with cruelty, the next, serene and tranquilizing.
Master A poured himself another bourbon and slammed it down. His brittle hatred moved like glass shards in his limbs as he forced himself to remain calm.
Mr. Prest didn’t care. His full attention fell to me again, inching closer, pressing his knee against mine.
I sucked in a breath as his head tilted toward my ear, his heady incense and spice aftershave whipping up my nose like a forest fire. It blazed through my lungs and over my tongue, making me inhale and taste him all at once.
“Tell me, Pimlico, do you like being touched gently or are you used to much rougher handling?” His palm splayed over my thigh, gripping hard enough for me to flinch.
Permanent bruises flared. I held my breath, willing pain receptors to quiet and numbness to take over. I’d enlisted that trick multiple times.
Mr. Prest was cruel and harsh and dominant. But beneath that darkness, he couldn’t fully erase the strangeness lurking deep inside him. I didn’t know if it was a bad strange or good, but he was different from Master A.
That oddity called to me.
Master A flung himself back into the couch, eyeing us with disdain. “I don’t know why you’re bothering. She doesn’t talk. Hit her, hurt her, whisper, or woo her—it’s all the fucking same.”
Mr. Prest brushed his nose against my earlobe, murmuring so Master A couldn’t hear. “You might not use your voice, silent one, but you speak all the same.” The tip of his tongue ran over the highly sensitive flesh from my ear to the start of my jaw. “Want to know what you’ve told me already?” His hand trailed higher up my leg, creeping to the place where I’d been hurt the most.
I’d gone my teenage years with an occasional fumble from an eager boy who’d earned my interest to get close enough to touch. And then, I’d entered womanhood with a brutal rape that’d forever tarnished sex. Everything about men and women coupling was sick and filthy and wrong.
No part of me, under any circumstance, wanted to be touched there. Not by Mr. Prest, not by Master A, and certainly not by any of his dastardly friends.
I hated him for taking liberties. I didn’t want my skin to be alive. I didn’t want my senses to be alive.
I wanted to be numb.
Aloof.
And the audacity of Mr. Prest to
make me notice things again, for my heart to beat and my taste buds to fire—it wasn’t fair.
But at least, my body was as repulsed by him as any other man.
I didn’t feel a quickening in my belly. My pussy didn’t clench; my blood didn’t heat. My spirit might hold on, refusing to break, but Master A had broken my body.
Sex was revolting.
Sex was sickening.
Sex was not something I would ever grow to love.
I was sure of it.
It didn’t stop Mr. Prest from brushing his fingertip between my legs. His voice stayed heavy and low. “I’m used to silence, silent one. But you’re not very good at hiding your thoughts from your eyes.” Pulling away, he brushed my chin with his knuckles. “Want me to prove it? I know that you hate me touching you, and you can’t stop the loathing inside you.”
His eyes flickered to Master A as his head bowed close again. He gave the impression that we whispered secrets to each other. “He doesn’t see you like I do. He doesn’t hear you like I do.”
Master A shot upright, clearly ready for this meeting to be over. “I think we’ve covered the finer details. The rest can be done when you drop the contract off for final signature.”
Mr. Prest understood the underlying message.
Leave.
Leaning away from me, he grinned. “Want your slave back so soon?” He patted my leg, antagonising him. “I don’t think you understand the concept of sharing, Alrik.”
I bristled.
I’m not some toy to borrow.
I wasn’t a novelty or tatty doll to play with on a whim then dismember when boredom replaced fascination.
I was in two minds. Mr. Prest had kept my heart catapulting like some renegade siege with his gentle touches and soft commands. I feared him more than I feared Master A. I wanted him gone. Immediately. But a large part of me wanted to continue being petted because it’d been so long since anyone had. I wanted him to free me.
However, I never got what I wanted.
Master A inched closer, glowering at Mr. Prest’s hand on my thigh. “Do you like his touch better than mine, Pim?” His voice was a hazardous rumble. “I’d advise you say you prefer me over this stranger.”