Pennies (Dollar 1)

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, disregarding 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.”