Buttons and Shame (Buttons 4)

I didn’t bring my gun because I knew it wouldn’t be allowed. But I always kept a small knife in the stitching of my jacket just in case. I was walking into a snake pit without any backup. That should make me trustworthy enough. Besides, I was a Barsetti. Unlike Bones, we actually honored our deals.

I was ushered into the large dining hall where Tristan sat at the head of the table. In a gray vest over a white collared shirt, he looked aristocratic. But nothing could change the fact that he was butt ugly. With a long, hooked nose and beady eyes, he wasn’t a pretty picture. He was thin and lanky, but tall. I was sure the only women he had in his bed were whores—not that I was so innocent.

Tristan rose when I entered the room and shook my hand. “Cane, good to see you.” He spoke in English for my benefit, but his French accent was evident. He took care of business all over the world, but France had always been his home.

“Likewise.” I took a seat to his right and watched my glass fill with scotch from the waiter.

Tristan sat down and snapped his fingers to one of his butlers. It must have meant dinner was to be served because they brought out bread, cheese, and assorted cured meats before they served the main entrees along with an expensive bottle of wine. I didn’t drink much wine. That was my brother’s forte.

We got right down to business and discussed weaponry. Tristan didn’t give me the specifics of what he needed them for, and like a smart businessman, I didn’t ask. Privacy was important to all my clients. It was something Crow and I honored—unless we knew they were enemies to our country and our allies. Most of the time, the need for protection was based on gang mentality.

Tristan snapped his fingers again, beckoning one of his butlers to draw near.

Wearing a suit and tie, the man approached the table with his hands resting behind his back. He reminded me of Lars but much younger. “Yes, sir?”

Crow never treated Lars that way, and neither did I. He was help around the house but still a human being. But it wasn’t my place to judge, especially since I’d committed a lot of crimes much worse than being rude to my employees. I nearly killed my sister-in-law once upon a time.

“Bring my dinner guest.” He snapped his fingers again.

The butler did a fantastic job hiding his disdain. I would have stabbed Tristan in the neck with a butter knife if he spoke to me like that. “Of course, sir.” He left the dining hall to retrieve the mysterious guest.

“Who’s joining us for dinner?” I asked.

“A beautiful woman I just met.”

I drank my smooth scotch and enjoyed the burn down my throat. “A pretty lady, huh? Thinking of settling down?”

“Ha.” His laugh was heavy with sarcasm. “No. She’s just a plaything. She was brought to me yesterday. I’ve had a lot of fun breaking her in.” He waggled his eyebrows before he took a drink of his wine.

I understood his meaning immediately. The significance was a little traumatizing to my stomach, like there was too much acid and my body couldn’t break it down. I’d worked with lots of men who owned slaves. It wasn’t uncommon, especially in my line of work. I never blinked an eye over it or gave a damn. But now that Pearl was family, my attitude was different. Instead of giving a response, I drank my scotch again.

One of his cronies brought the woman in. Dressed in a black bra and matching thong, she was barely covered. Her skin was bruised in places where she’d been struck with a hand as well as a whip. There were cuts along her body, as if someone had dragged a knife across her skin just to watch her bleed. The man pushed her down into the chair and walked away.

I was sitting right across from her, and I instantly recognized her face.

The woman from the airport.

She stared at the table and didn’t lift her gaze. Her brown eyes were nearly black because there wasn’t any sign of life. Her skin was pale, and I imagined it would be cold to the touch. There was a cut in the corner of her mouth that looked like it was created with a man’s knuckle.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Tristan leaned toward her and wrapped his fingers around her upper arm.

She recoiled like a snake, a hiss escaping her mouth.

He didn’t think twice before he backhanded her, slapping hard across her face and making her lurch sideways.

I kept a straight face but hated watching it.

He grabbed her by the neck and slammed her hand onto the table. “Be a good little slave, alright? Otherwise, I’ll punish you right here over dinner.” He released her and grabbed his glass of wine.