I’d underestimated Alrik Åsbjörn.
He’d kept this woman alive for who the fuck knew how long, even when her wish to die echoed with every heartbeat.
That was impressive.
The sharp thrill knowing I could do anything I wanted to this girl with no repercussions disgusted me. I could hurt her, fuck her, treat her with no bloody respect. And she could only accept it because that was her place. Her bought and sold place.
I could kill her, and she’d probably thank me for setting her free.
Maybe I should.
Perhaps I will.
Depending on how the evening and our transaction went, I might steal her life and keep it as a trinket, a token, for yet another shadowy deal struck with monsters.
“Let’s eat.” Alrik grinned, strolling toward the eight-seater table positioned beneath a generic chandelier.
His house irritated me. The stark white. The impersonal walls and sterile furniture. I preferred personality in my décor. Why live in a box this soulless? He might as well live in a fucking coffin.
Alrik’s friends took their seats, not waiting for the guest of honour—me—to sit first. My lips tightened at the lack of courtesy and respect.
My culture demanded such things.
Even when I lived on the fucking streets as an unwanted rat, I’d remembered what my elders had taught me.
Reverence for those wiser, older, and smarter than you. Appreciation for those kinder, gentler, and nicer than you. And utmost worship for those who could fucking annihilate you without a single thought.
Grasping the back of the chair, I looked over my shoulder at the wraith of a slave as she faded into the background.
Judging by her current well-being, I’d say she’d become a master at accepting pain. She was like me in that respect. And because of that, she earned my interest. She wasn’t just a possession, but a puzzle, ready to be deciphered.
Sinking to her knees on the hard white tiles, she bowed her head.
Even with my blazer covering her stark skeleton, her malnourished body imprinted beneath it. My jacket looked five times too big for her. Her hair was a disgusting brown mop with no style. Her green eyes resembled a swamp, and her skin hinted as if she bordered scurvy.
She wasn’t healthy.
Why didn’t she speak? And why did her defiant thoughts scream so much louder than words? How could she remain so impertinent when she rang the doorbell of death with eager fingers?
Tearing my gaze away, I glared at the unwanted guests around the table. Alrik assured me, when we set up the meeting, that it would just be him and me. Not three other bastards and one silent girl.
I’d put up with it through dinner because I refused to talk business while eating, and never when drinking, but the moment the food was consumed, they had to fuck off.
My back stiffened as precautions filled me.
Could he have poisoned the meal?
Thanks to my tireless research, I knew he didn’t cook—that his chef service provided delicacies every night. I had to trust he wouldn’t slip ricin into my main course purely because of his ego and what he wanted from me.
If Alrik did, by some imbecile decision, try to dispatch me rather than do business, I was ready.
He wouldn’t be the first to try to kill me.
And he wouldn’t be the last.
However, the trail of cadavers left in my wake would steadily grow longer as I proved I was invincible.
Sitting down, I readjusted my silverware, running eager digits over the serrated knife. I could murder everyone in this room before one scream was uttered.
Perhaps I should.
Maybe I will.
Before the night was through.
Alrik remained standing, opening bags of gourmet food and serving us with each element: bok choi with oyster sauce, Peking duck, Singapore noodles, and wontons.
The scents replaced the blandness of the monochromatic space with welcome.
Finally, he sat at the top of the table and smiled. “Eat. Enjoy.”
As he arranged his napkin, I looked once more at the girl.
She hadn’t budged. Her head remained bowed, her eyes locked on a speck in front of her.
Picking up my fork, I pointed at her. “You don’t feed your slave?”
Alrik slurped a mouthful of noodles, no longer trying to hide the truth. “She gets fed when she’s behaved. She knows that.” He raised his voice so the girl could hear. “And tonight, she didn’t. That unsightly episode before is not tolerated.” He grinned, stabbing a piece of duck. “She’ll eat tomorrow.”
I agreed.
A naughty pet ought to be punished.
But she wasn’t just a pet.
She was a human being, and I wasn’t done inspecting her.
I need her closer.
I ordered, “Invite her to eat with us.”
Alrik and his friends froze, food half-chewed or dangling on their forks. “What?”
“Invite her to eat. She’s hungry.”
“But this is a business dinner. I won’t have it sullied by her—”
“This is not business. This is merely a social nicety to feel as if we’ve bonded before our transaction is concluded. If it were up to me, I would’ve arrived to find you alone, as per our discussion, and left a few minutes later, rather than this fucking spectacle.”