The Secret Between the Billionaire Cousin And the Slave

ly lit basement. Her hands were bruised, her wrists red from the tight cuffs that clung to her like remin

n't cry

for looking the wrong way at a guard. That was when sh

er girls-some younger, some older. No one spoke much. What was the

blonde with trembling hands and a voice like

ned. "New York?"

il in Silk. A billionaire. A mafia boss. Some say h

as once whispered in fine Russian homes. Anastasiya Romanova-l

was just

till held on t

tr

t know wh

dn't k

y, she wou

ey wou

-

letting in a tall man in a suit. His accent was American, his voice

re. Girls began crying

cold, back straight. If she was

-

lano Mansion

enjoy watching people suffer. Not visibly, at least. But

had betr

needed

top outside his private estate-a fortress hidden in the hills

ding a folder. "The new shipment arrived. Six girls. O

sed an eye

cry. She doesn't beg. She wat

lked past him, his long coat bi

-

Holdi

froze when Dam

peak. He di

nce screa

car over his right eyebr

er each girl until

sta

eyes l

idn't

't f

n't

"What's your name

mained

"She doesn't talk, si

is head. "No. S

ng second before turning to Mat

ed. "The ma

for sale. Not yet. I want

-

glanced back at the others. Some looked rel

n't bei

being

-

Night – In

ith velvet curtains, marble floors, an

lt more like a pr

Damien walked in, hol

ains," he said. "But don't

ooked

n your file. You speak five languages. Russian. English. Italian. Fr

aid n

ep your secrets. I'l

rned and w

he door shut behi

siya?" he said, u

art st

did

or was alr