I didn’t sleep. I lay on crumpled silk sheets and stared at the ceiling. In the bedroom it was quiet. It was as if I were dead. No feelings. No anger, no resentment. That will come later. For now—emptiness and cold inside me. He lay beside me—strong, unbelievably sexy, dangerous. The one who managed to awaken in me hidden desires—dark, scorching, so depraved. I will hate myself for this all my life. On my wedding night, my husband handed me over to him. He gave me like a thing, like a slave. Because that’s what the all-powerful Dmitry Rudnitsky wanted.