I took a gulp of air, the tower of crockery in my arms clinking together.
Finally, Mr. Prest turned around, his hands balling by his sides. “Don’t make me remind you about using my first name, Alrik. Last fucking warning. As for our discussion, I want you, me, and her.” His smouldering gaze locked onto mine.
Oh, no…
No, no, no.
I didn’t want to be privy to their chat. I didn’t want Master A to have any more reason to think I valued myself too highly.
Depositing the plates in the sink, I bent over in an awkward bow, backing out of the room toward the corridor and the staircase.
Please, let me get there before he stops me.
Then I could bolt upstairs and write to No One and plug my ears so I never had to know what illegal things Master A was up to.
But of course, that didn’t work in my favour.
Nothing ever did.
Mr. Prest was the one to stop me. “Stay, girl. And take your penny. You might not give up your thoughts for so cheap, but you’re not leaving until I say so.”
My eyes flickered to Master A’s, looking for permission.
Mr. Prest might be the top hunter in this pack of animals, but he wasn’t the one who’d bought me. He wasn’t the one I had to live with after he’d gone.
Master A clenched his teeth, suffering a few goodbye slaps of his friends as they donned removed clothing and let themselves out.
Anger permeated him, swirling like toxic smog. Raking a hand through blond hair, he grunted. “Fuck, all right. Stay, Pimlico. Get the shot glasses and bourbon.
“Mr. Prest and I have something to discuss.”
I FUCKING HATED the taste of bourbon.
I preferred sake or gin or even the occasional absinthe. I wasn’t a big drinker. I had my reasons. And hadn’t touched a drop in almost a year.
But a man like Alrik expected a deal to be done over alcohol because he was still a bloody Neanderthal.
I would indulge him on this one topic, seeing as I’d won every other round.
The slave girl hadn’t sat down, flitting around like a fucking hummingbird, gathering shot glasses, straightening white cushions, and placing the dishes in the dishwasher.
Alrik didn’t seem to care. She wasn’t just his sex slave but house servant, too. He was barely aware of her anymore, happy to let her starve and waste away to nothing.
He deserved something for that.
Something painful.
Over the next few days, I’d get creative and figure out an apt punishment.
The tap ran in the kitchen, heralding my eyes as the girl sprayed herself accidentally with water.
Fuck.
My lips curled in disgust. The sleeves of my jacket were sodden as she rinsed knives and forks before adding them to the dishwasher.
Nursing my shot of bourbon, I snapped, “Enough, girl. Sit.”
Alrik shifted on the opposite couch. He’d already tossed back one shot and sniffed his second. If he grew drunk during this discussion, all the better for me. The terms would be heavily in my favour and the clauses I normally snuck into the paperwork, hoping they weren’t noticed, would go by unseen.
Fucking idiot.
I had things to say, but I wouldn’t start until the girl sat down and stopped fidgeting. I didn’t like distractions, and she was a damn distraction.
Something clattered behind me before Alrik bellowed, “For fuck’s sake, Pimlico, sit your ass down.”
Immediately, she darted into the lounge and kneeled on the white carpet by the coffee table, resuming the same bowed position she’d been in before I’d invited her to eat.
She didn’t touch the furniture, almost as if she wasn’t permitted. Like a bad dog that’d been slapped too many times for jumping on prized settees.
The more I found out about this bastard, the more I despised him.
Ignoring Pimlico as she huddled on the floor, Alrik toasted me with his shot. “To being alone and able to discuss our new venture.”
“Not so fast.”
I thought I could drink this shit, but I couldn’t.
Why the fuck am I here again?
From the moment I’d met this sleazebag, I’d had the overwhelming urge to wash whenever he looked at me. The way he watched me. The way he laughed and spoke as if I couldn’t hear his stinking secrets.
But I could.
And the longer I was in his company, the less I wanted him to breathe. Money was money. Business was business. But when instincts screamed to ignore the deal and walk…I listened.
Only, I didn’t want to go.
Not yet.
Because of her.
Pinching the brow of my nose, I glared at the windows behind Alrik where presumably a garden rested in the night.
The second I’d walked into this psychopath’s house, I’d been fascinated by her. Not because I could see her tits and shadows between her legs but because of the way she watched me.
She saw everything.
The world had two types of people. The first were the takers. They only noticed those who could help them, offering friendship for false reasons—their egos preventing improvement of their superficial interest.