‘Has she behaved herself?’ Lawrence asks Francesca. ‘Has she lived up to her purpose?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Francesca said. ‘A most exceptional slave. She does quite well...here.’
Lawrence doesn’t catch the hesitation, or pretends not to. But I do. I’m doing well...here. I do well in this room as a slave, which implies I won’t do well elsewhere.
I hiss, ‘b***h!’
Lawrence raises his eyebrows. ‘You said she was doing well.’
‘This is her doing well,’ Francesca said. ‘We took some time to come to an understanding. The little slut kept trying to tell me that she really is Conover.’ She shakes her head. ‘Like I would believe that!’
‘But I am - ‘
Francesca is on me in a flash. Her open palm slaps my face and my ears ring. ‘Don’t you dare, you cunt!’
Through a haze of red I find Lawrence. His mouth
