Pennies (Dollar #1)(27)

My breathing turned shallow. His lingering touch threatened me. I wasn’t stupid not to recognise how dangerous he was, but there was a hidden safety, too.

It whispered that if he hurt me, he’d help me at the same time. I just didn’t know how.

He was a contradiction. A conundrum. Something fascinating I couldn’t figure out.

Slowly, the atmosphere at the table resumed its tentative calmness; the men returned to their dinner.

I did too. After all, I wouldn’t waste good food.

My eyelids fluttered as my taste buds finally worked, signalling to my brain how rich and delicious the piece of duck was as I placed it on my tongue.

Tony, Darryl, and Monty were their usual gross selves with no manners, and Master A remained on his best behaviour. But he couldn’t hide the fact he hated my position at the table.

Whatever nutrition I earned would most likely come scalding back up my throat when he kicked me in the guts later.

The thought was almost enough to stop me eating.

But not quite.

Meekly, I dropped my gaze. Boldly, I took another bite.

I couldn’t stop what he’d do to me, but I would give my system every inch of vitamins and sustenance as possible.

“I changed my mind,” Mr. Prest said quietly, leaning closer. “I want to know about the mute girl called Pimlico.”

His voice.

Like molasses and candy; salty crisps and decadent chocolate.

His body scalded me—not because he was hot, but because his proximity set off all sorts of warnings in my blood.

Sneaking a quick glance, I met his gaze as he brazenly stared. Where did he come from? What nationality? What country?

And who named him Elder?

He wasn’t old or the leader of some sect. Or he could be, for all I knew.

What the hell is he doing mixing with this riff-raff?

Master A narrowed his eyes in my direction.

I knew that look. He wanted me to reply. For so long, he expected I’d slip and unwittingly speak.

For the first few months, it’d been hard training my ingrained desire to communicate when asked a direct question. To ignore the pull to respond. But over time, it’d gotten easier. But even this handsome, dangerous stranger wouldn’t break my silent armour.

Taking another bite, I deliberately dropped my gaze, letting him win the staring contest but losing the battle to make me talk.

The fire burning inside kept me fighting even when I wanted to give up. Only I knew how bad my life had become, but something (oh, my God, was it pride?) hated that Mr. Prest saw a skinny, scarred girl who couldn’t escape.

He’d never seen me in a dress with pretty hair or perfect makeup. Never heard me answer professors with wit and intelligence. Never saw me dance and entertain chairmen of charities and probe the psychology of my fellow counterparts just like my mother had taught me.

Who I was never existed for Mr. Prest. He only saw what I was now. He’d leave and forever remember me as a slave, not a free girl.

I scoffed, chewing my final piece of duck.

As if.

He’ll forget about you the minute he departs.

Sometimes, my ego could still hurt me, even now.

Not letting my silence deter him, Mr. Prest leaned into my personal space. His large hand vanished into his trouser pocket, followed by the delicate clink of coins.

Catching my eye, he shifted his muscular bulk, depositing a single American penny by my wrist.

My eyes flew to Master A.

Just as I hadn’t been allowed at the table for two years, I hadn’t handled currency or wealth of any kind.

Master A placed his knife and fork on either side of his plate with eerie calmness. “Mr. Prest, can I ask why the f*ck you’re giving money to my slave?”

Mr. Prest never tore his eyes from mine. “That’s between Pimlico and me.”

My heart sank with a two-tonne rusty anchor.

Couldn’t he see he’d just ensured my normal beating would be ten times worse? He’d undermined Master A, and no one should ever, ever do that.

I fought terror and unhappiness as I kept my gaze locked on the table. However, it didn’t stop me noticing Master A from the corner of my eye. An evil smile crooked his lips, promising many more nights where I’d go hungry.

His three friends smirked, understanding yet another punishment would be extracted, and they were invited to partake.

Damn you, Mr. Prest.

Swallowing hard, I didn’t give myself permission to look up, but when Mr. Prest pushed the penny closer, my eyes flittered to his.

I froze.

The thickest, longest eyelashes I’d ever seen framed his black pupils. So dense and opaque, they looked like fur. It wasn’t fair that a man had such bewitching eyes; it was doubly unfair he’d entered my harsh existence and made it so much worse.

I would remember him always.

He would forget me tomorrow.

Why did I sit next to him?

I should’ve sat at Master A’s feet.

This was my fault.

Stupid.

So stupid.

Lowering his heady voice, Mr. Prest whispered, “A penny for your thoughts, girl.”

The old-fashioned phrase echoed in my chest.

He wanted to pay for my muted replies?

He valued my responses enough to bribe me?

Why?

Master A had never offered me kindness to chat. He’d only punished and reinforced my desire to remain quiet.