Sold to the devil

s traded. Not that it mattered

ing through the cracked window behind her. Her long curls clung to her skin, soaked

shielded her from the bruises of life. Never gave her

father, Charles Monroe, an aging gambler in debt, and Leonar

e a crown. Tall, broad, young-only twenty-four-but the deadliest ma

en against the tab

said after one glanc

ed his name with a cold smirk and pushed the docum

ra asked, her vo

and unapologetic. "Be grateful I

omach

lenched. "You're sell

live better than

f I sa

nstead," he said flatly. "He

a fr

ould

er everything. He would. And he

t, only sixteen-wouldn't survive a

ch. The air thickened with the weigh

d quietly. "Leave

uffs of his black shirt. "Good

-

on was a

tone walls and endless glass windows, shining like ice. It didn't feel like

e her when she arrived

e bed was king-sized. The sheets were black silk. There were n

ntouched. She

y was tense, her mind louder. She sat at the edge

opened at

ut a word, his presence e

ask. He di

our clothes

up, heart

" he

hed for the straps of her dress. She felt humiliated.

thing to be inspected. When she stood bare before

l," he muttered,

he was already his. She didn't cry. She didn't beg. She

her neck. There was no gentleness in his touch, no

ver, he didn'

ked out like she didn't ma

g, staring at the ceiling. She

thing wa

ed to a man w

her had just become a