Free Release: Davlova: Book One by A.M. Sexton Page A

through.
    “Clea. You’re up.”
    “No,” she said, without looking up from her cards. “It’s my day off.”
    “It’s Benedict.”
    Lilja and Dulcie both turned to Clea, who’d gone pale. Her hands shook visibly as she laid down her cards, but she put on a brave face and followed the girl out the door.
    “Come to collect, I guess,” Tawny said when Clea was gone. “The arrogant fuck.”
    Nobody else spoke, and I looked questioningly over the chessboard at Lalo. “Collect?”
    “Business owners who want to avoid Benedict’s raids pay him a weekly commission.”
    “And in our case, a weekly freebie between somebody’s legs,” Lilja interjected. The other girls all made sounds of disgust.
    “I admit,” Lalo said under his breath, “I’m glad I’m not his type.”
    I remembered Benedict at La Fontaine, asking Donato for use of me. But certainly he’d known I wasn’t a woman? “He doesn’t like men?”
    Lalo laughed. “Only the pretty ones.”
    “Only the ones he thinks he can intimidate, you mean,” Lilja said. “Man or woman, he likes them small and scared.”
    “He always picks Clea these days,” Dulcie said. “I feel bad for her, but...” She shuddered.
    “I’m glad I didn’t please him the time he chose me,” Tawny said. “He’s a mean son of a bitch.”
    I didn’t doubt it. I’d sensed it in him that night when Donato had introduced us. I turned back to Lalo. “So, he extorts payment from Talia?”
    “From a lot of business owners. He calls it protection money.”
    I wondered about Anzhéla. Did she know about Benedict’s corruption? She must. After all, our den had never been raided. And yet, I couldn’t imagine her paying it. She hated the man.
    Clea came back some time later. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying, and there were obvious bite marks on her neck. She rubbed them nervously with her fingertips as she resumed her seat at the table. “Deal me in,” she said, without meeting anybody’s gaze. Dulcie and Lilja exchanged a glance, but before they could say anything, Clea spoke again. “I don’t want to talk about it. Just deal the cards.”
    I glanced at Lalo. He didn’t say anything at first, but later, when the girls were absorbed in their game again, he spoke quietly, so that I only I could hear. “Talia normally blacklists customers who do that kind of thing.”
    He didn’t need to explain the rest: Talia had no power over Benedict. Trying to stop him from mistreating her girls would only be asking for trouble.
    Several hours later, when Talia came to tell me it was time to get ready for my night with Donato, I didn’t allow myself even a moment of self-pity.
    Better Donato than Benedict.
    ***
    I’d thought to have a few hours the next day to play chess with Lalo—it was the one day of the week he wasn’t required to hang around the whorehouse in case one of his clients showed up—but Talia had different plans. She pulled me aside after breakfast.
    “Misha,” she said, “it’s time you went shopping.”
    “Shopping? Like, for groceries.”
    She laughed. “No. Donato sent word that he’ll not have his pet parading around in rags. So today, I’m ordering you to buy some new clothes.”
    I looked down at what I was wearing, some of which had been pulled from trash, some of which had been stolen off clotheslines. It was all clean, but I still looked like exactly what I was—or rather, what I had once been—a common pickpocket. And yet, I felt a ridiculous attachment to them. They were the last remnants of my old life.
    “So I have to dress like a whore on a daily basis now?”
    “I’m not saying you have to parade around in the getups he sends for you, with your face painted like a woman. But I run a high-class establishment here. All of my workers are expected to dress appropriately.”
    I swallowed hard, trying to squelch my unease. “All right.” I thought of the money I had squirreled away in my room. It was already more money than