I was a gift to settle my father’s debts. He kept me for entirely different reasons.
Viktor Sorokin didn’t want a wife. He wanted leverage. I was supposed to be temporary, a pawn to control my father, discarded when my usefulness ended. But then he looked at me. Really looked.
Now I’m not a pawn. I’m a prisoner in his penthouse, dressed in silk and diamonds, watched by security cameras he doesn’t hide. He learns my habits. My fears. The way I cry when I think no one’s listening.
He’s supposed to be my enemy. So why does he hold me while I break? Why does he destroy anyone who makes me flinch?
I was sold to a monster. I’m terrified to realize I’m starting to see the man underneath.
