The guard pulled my elbow and we trudged across the grass. I stumbled, stunned by incomprehensible wealth. Who could afford their own plane and mansion to house it?

My toes were numb by the time we climbed the front steps. Four story high pillars and intricate plasterwork with cherubs and rosettes welcomed. The three-horse water fountain gurgled and trickled, looking far too perfect to belong to a man that purchased women.

Our breath steamed in the cold as my guard rapped on the huge silver door before turning the knob and pushing me through.

Once inside the warm embrace of the house, he took off the shades, propping them on his head. His irises were green and vivid. I searched for evilness—the same vileness from the men who’d stolen me in Mexico, but surprise radiated down my spine. His eyes were compassionate, human.

He bowed his head, looking in front and above.

This was it. My new beginning. My new ending.

“Bon soir, esclave.”

My eyes soared up to the first landing of the giant blue, velvet staircase. Massive works of art hung like armament on gold gilded walls.

A man in a grey chequered suit, complete with black shirt, silver tie, and short dark hair watched from the landing.

My entire body ignited as his jaw clenched. His gaze unclothed and terrified me. Everything about him screamed ruthlessness and power. He held himself proud and regal as if this was his castle and I was the latest subject.

Our eyes locked, and something tingled across my flesh. Fear? Terror? Something inside knew he was dangerous.

His lips twitched as I sucked in a breath. He removed hands from his pockets and placed them on the banister, his fingers long and strong, even from this distance. The way he stared became too much. I felt undone, stripped to my soul.

I stepped back, bumping against the guard behind. He bent his head, whispering in my ear, “Say hello to your new master.”

Chapter 8

*Sparrow*

The word master echoed like a bad tuning fork.

Master. Master.

No, he wasn’t my master. Not with his short, sleek hair and sharp widows peak. Not with his clenched, stubble-smooth jaw and trim physique. He was not my master. No one was.

Tears pricked as I thought about Brax. He seemed a world away compared to this reality. Brax was rough and boyish, a hard worker through and through. The man, staring with pale jade eyes and an unreadable chiselled face, lived in total contrast. Power radiated like visible waves, unsettling me more than anything.

He wasn’t the fat, repulsive bastard who used wealth to buy sex slaves. He wasn’t gross or any other monstrous things. Who is this man?

My eyes widened, drinking him in—the owner of this house. The owner of… me. No, never.

I didn’t care who he was, because my life belonged to me. I stuck out my chin, glaring. I wouldn’t be intimidated by wealth or stature. I didn’t care he was tall and moved like he expected the world to lick his shoes. I would never lick anything of his.

The man never broke eye contact, ensnaring me in his gaze. Slowly, he pushed off the banister and moved toward the stairs.

I gulped.

He was smooth water—effortless in refinement but just like still water, dangerous if you couldn’t swim. Deadly rips and currents lurked deep below the surface. I eyed him, trying to figure out what sick pleasures he indulged in that normal, willing women were hard to come by.

My heart raced with every step he took, descending toward me.

The guard pushed me forward. “Bow to your new master.”

I tripped, but regained my footing instantly. My fists shook, I clenched them so hard. My injuries reminded me all of this was wrong. In some warped sense, it seemed innocent like the owner of the house merely welcoming a guest.

“I have no master,” I said, putting every ounce of rebellion into the words. “Let me go.”

The man stopped mid-step, head cocked. His fingers curled around the banister, showing manicured nails, no calluses in sight. Once again, pale eyes connected with mine, sucking my thoughts into a vacuum.

Up till now, his face had been unreadable, but as we stared, flashes of emotion buffeted me. Anger. Interest. Annoyance. Resignation. And finally, in a blaze of jade… lust.

My breath quickened and I tried to step back again, only to collide with the wall of the guard’s chest.

The guard placed a hot, heavy hand between my shoulder blades and pushed, forcing me into a struggling, painful bow. “Do as you’re told.”

So many thoughts collided. I wanted to spin and steal the gun in the holster under his arm. I wanted to shoot everyone. I wanted to slash at the gorgeous artwork and priceless artefacts around the room. Such things of beauty did not deserve to belong to a man whose goons forced a sex slave to bow.

“Bastard,” I muttered, hating I couldn’t do any of it. All I could do was obey—for now.

“Stop. If she doesn’t want to bow, then don’t force her.” The masculine voice reminded me of glinting steel, shaped with precision and strength. It was the sound of authority, and despite my best attempts to rebel, I bowed on my own. The sheer weight of his voice compelled obedience.

The guard’s hand left my back. He chuckled. “If she doesn’t want to bow, perhaps she wants to crawl.”

My back snapped upright, and I jumped a mile. My new owner stood directly in front of me. Hands in his slack pockets, head cocked slightly to the side, as if inspecting a piece of art.

“She may crawl if she wishes,” he murmured.

“I do not wish,” I snapped.

Once again, our eyes connected and I searched for the evil like the men in Mexico, but he guarded himself too well. Nothing gave away what he thought, even the emotions I’d seen before were gone.

We stood staring for moments, before the guard behind me cleared his throat. Shattering the fragile silence and condemning me to whatever would happen next.

“Laissez-nous.” The man waved a hand toward the exit. Instantly, the guard left along with a few others I hadn’t seen lurking. The rustle of their suits sounded like a death sentence as they siphoned out the door.

Oh, God.

My eyes flicked to the left, where a massive library beckoned. Sultry mahogany, rich maroons, and gold bookcases. A roaring fire beckoned to read a book, and slouch in the wingback chairs huddled around the flames.

To the right, a ginormous lounge full of comfortable designer sofas and chairs. Animal hides of zebra and tiger littered the floor, and huge glass doors reflected me standing under the bright lights of the foyer.