Pennies (Dollar #1)(31)

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.”

“I told you I don’t deal in those. If you want them, it won’t be through me.” Mr. Prest’s voice dropped to a growl. “But you’re already aware of those terms.” His eyes flickered to mine, their endless depths sucking light and life from me. “What do you think, Pimlico? Want to be locked on a boat rather than in a mansion? Your master here seems to be going to war.”

A boat?

War?

What the hell is he talking about?

I couldn’t visualize such a thing. An image of a dinghy with oars for propulsion and wooden sides to prevent drowning came to mind. Why would anyone want to trade a house for that?

Gritting my teeth, I looked over Mr. Prest’s shoulder, ignoring the question.

I didn’t care that I didn’t understand. What I cared about was he’d tried to trip me into replying.

It won’t work.

I’d had years of practice.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m sure he won’t take you to war.” His hand landed possessively on my thigh. “And if he did, at least you might find what you’re looking for.”

I froze.

What?

What am I looking for?

How would you know what I need?

Even as my questions solidified, I doubted my conviction.

I survived in this world with tiny goals that kept me strong. I took pleasure from avoiding a broken arm by doing tasks before being asked. I was awarded extra hours of sleep or hard-won dinners when I successfully hid my hate.

I did all that because I needed something to reward myself with. If I didn’t, whispers of ending it were never far away. If I focused on small things, I could ignore the tug of freedom.

But if I didn’t…death.

It was a calculated vindictive seducer, promising an end to pain and suffering. I’d listened once and would’ve obeyed its commands if the knives hadn’t disappeared. I’d thought my momentary weakness was over.

I lied.

The murmurs of taking my own life hid in the panic attacks that lay waiting to pounce when my strength wavered. I was no longer completely whole—parts of me had become an enemy, wanting me to die rather than survive.

He’s sniffed suicide on me.

He’d done it the second he’d laid eyes on me; the same way I’d tasted he was more than a businessman and aristocratic bastard.