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 fuck 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.

But this man…

He was treacherous.

Taking a deep breath, I nudged the penny back to him with my pinkie.

The urge to shake my head crept over me. Nonverbal was almost as bad as audible.

I fought the urge, gathering my final mouthful of noodles and doing my best not to hyperventilate as Mr. Prest forced the penny toward me.

He didn’t say the phrase again.

He didn’t need to. I heard it loudly.

A penny for your thoughts.

Fucking speak.

Master A slammed the table with his palm, making Tony, Darryl, and Monty jump.

But not Mr. Prest.

He moved like the slickness of oil on water, cocking an eyebrow at his host. “Yes?”

Master A bared his teeth, his hand fisted around his knife. “I’m done with whatever games you’re playing. Forget about her. She’s nothing. Let’s talk business.” Stabbing the air with his food-soiled blade, he yelled, “Pim, clear the fucking table. You’re done. Get out of my sight.”

Immediately, I shot to my feet.

Luckily, I’d wolfed down my dinner and didn’t mourn the lack of time to finish. My empty plate glowed with reminders that my belly was full, but I hadn’t earned it without pain.

Already, my middle cramped with indigestion from eating such rich meat, joining the symphony of all the other kicks and punches I’d endured.

Keeping my eyes down, I dutifully collected the empty containers and plucked the paper bags under my arms. Mr. Prest’s blazer kept getting in the way, but until he stole it from me, I wouldn’t take it off.

It was mine.

If only for a little while.

Mr. Prest watched me as I took the packaging to the kitchen, rinsed, and placed them in the recycling bin. Returning, I did my best to stay out of reach of the men’s probing hands as I collected soiled plates.

Mr. Prest glowered as Monty slapped my ass and Darryl gathered strands of my hair to sniff dramatically. Master A didn’t notice his guest vibrating with rage, and I wouldn’t tell him. I’d become invisible again as I did my servantly duties.

Master A leaned back in his chair. “So, we’ve broken bread together. Let’s get down to it.”

Mr. Prest placed his hands on the table, his fingers steepled with poise and power. “Before we do, I have conditions.”

“What conditions?”

“I don’t discuss details in front of others.” Cocking his chin at the three rapists, he growled, “I want them gone.”

Darryl sniffed. “Hey, loser. We’re here for our buddy. We’ve got his back.”

“Yeah. No us equals no deal.” Monty crossed his arms.

I carried my embrace of dirtiness to the kitchen as Mr. Prest stood so fast his chair screeched against the tiles. “Understood.”

Stalking from the table, he passed me. His eyes sparked with black violence, glittering harder as he looked me up and down. “Keep the jacket.”

My mouth fell open as he stormed toward the exit.