"Who are you?" I raised an eyebrow at the man lurking behind me with a clipboard in his shaky hands. His position wasn't exactly clear to me but I knew he was one of the people I had brought overseas from the auction in France.
"Uh—" he stopped short and looked around, tapping his fingers on the clipboard like it was a nervous tic. "I was told that you would give me a name."
"Who do I look like, your birth mother?" Ignoring the fact that I should have met my new employees properly days ago instead of obsessing over Marco and Lina, there was a meeting I had to get to and no time for this interaction. "What was your name before you were trafficked?"
"Dominico." The man blinked at me flatly. "Are you going to give me a new name?"
"I can't do that for taxing purposes. Pass me that gun, would you?" The matte black metal contraption was sitting on the table closer to Connor's side of the office because the idiot had left it there as if owning firearms wasn't illegal in England.
