Pennies (Dollar 1)

“You’re right.” Master A unlocked his fingers, removing his resistance.

I ricocheted forward, tumbling against Mr. Prest’s sculptured body.

The moment I smashed against him, I recoiled.

He wasn’t different.

He was the same.

And I had no wish to be close to him or any man.

Master A puffed out his chest, crossing his arms. “Is sharing an official requirement to complete our deal?”

My mismatched hair hung over my face as Mr. Prest manhandled me around his body, placing me behind him. His arm clamped tight, keeping me wedged against his hard back. “You really are a sick fuck.”

Energy and untapped power siphoned down his spine as he chuckled, infecting me with whatever insanity he suffered.

Because he had to be insane.

He protected me from Master A, all while discussing sharing me to complete a business transaction.

Who does that?

No one I wanted to be around.

A year ago, I might’ve struggled—bit his wrist for the chance to be free. But just like I’d evolved in obedience to survive, I learned that antagonising for no reason wasn’t smart.

Master A spread his hands. “Rather offensive thing to say. I’m not judging you. So I’d appreciate it if you don’t judge me.”

Looking over my shoulder, my skin crawled to find Darryl, Tony, and Monty had repositioned themselves to stand behind Mr. Prest, ready to maim or kill him if he threatened their friend.

I squeezed my eyes, deliberately avoiding what would come next.

However, I’d underestimated Mr. Prest.

Almost as if he sensed the imminent attack, he stepped back, forcing me to move with him until he entered the lounge and spun to face the three men, pinning me against the wall.

He faced them all as Master A stalked to stand with his evil accomplices.

Mr. Prest clenched his jaw, his eyes hooded and dark. “Let’s start this again. With the fucking truth.” Yanking me from behind his back, he placed me beside him. “She’s a whore.”

I jolted at the word.

I hated that word.

It conjured such sad and broken things. But I wasn’t that. I was a daughter, a student, a friend. I was smart. I’d been pretty, once.

I meant something.

Master A shared a glance with Tony before smiling. “She’s more than a whore. I bought her. Fair and square.”

“So, she’s a slave.” Mr. Prest didn’t phrase it as a question. Somehow, he’d known all along what I was the second he saw me.

I’m his slave; it’s true.

But I don’t want to be.

Master A stared at his guest for a long moment before his shoulders relaxed and a broad smile split his face. “She’s a slave, a whore, a slut. She’s whatever you want.” Coming forward, he held out his hand a second time. “Meet Pimlico…my possession. And you have full invitation to use her.”

No…

My eyes flew to Mr. Prest, hoping like hell the proposition abhorred him. That he’d rather walk out the door than deal with such awful people and take me with him.

But the tense standoff ended as he accepted Master A’s handshake, smiling coldly.

“That’s more like it.” Breaking the introduction, Mr. Prest slung his arm over my blazer-cloaked shoulders. “Why didn’t you say that before?”

Don’t…

“That makes this evening a lot more interesting.”

THIS PLACE STANK of lies and deceit.

And that said something, seeing as I was the one who usually had the most to hide.

This asshole had cleared most of my vetting channels, but my research hadn’t revealed a live-in girlfriend.

Definitely not a mute girlfriend.

Yet she’s neither of those things.

She was a beaten, broken whore.

A slave.

I’d seen some shit in my past. I’d committed crimes. I’d done my fair share of filth. But I’d never met someone who thought they could own a human soul before.

Part of me wanted to unleash every wrath he had owing. But the other…a stronger part was intrigued.

Distancing myself from Pimlico, I couldn’t deny my flesh heated at the fragility of her bones. I couldn’t look away from the translucency of her skin with its map of blue veins and red arteries.

Balling my hands, I took another step.

Her breathing fluttered, not as a flirt but in fear.

That was not a good thing.

Not where I was concerned.

Over the years of my dominion, I’d earned a name that’d paved the gold-brick road into the underbelly of this sick and twisted world.

Kaitou.

Phantom Thief.

First, because I was a pickpocket, robber, and five-fingered master.

Second because, instead of stealing objects, I started stealing lives.

But only those lives owed to me or those too feeble to be of any use.

What category does she fall into?

She was feeble but not useless.

Something about her got under my skin, itching with an intolerable curiosity.

Where did she come from?

How long had she been here?

And just how long had she wanted to die?

The look in her eyes was a classic invitation for death.

I took another step away from the slave girl.

Just in case.

I saw strength in her, but I also tasted the yearning for her end. Once someone enticed thoughts of suicide into their soul, it was there to stay, slowly corrupting them until they found their way back to life or gave in and let demise claim them.