“I bought you. Expensively.”
“From the low timbre, chills run down my skin.”
“And now you’ll do everything I tell you.”
“I’m a person, not a thing.” Fear dries my throat.
“A thing.”
The man turns on me a heavy, predatory look.
“Like your gorgeous dress. Like your crown. And you’re also mine now.” I’m a simple student, and getting into the beauty contest seemed like incredible luck. And I couldn’t even dream of winning. But when the spotlights went out and the applause died down, I found out the ball is run by one man—Demyan Oblasov—about whom terrifying rumors are going around. And now he thinks that I belong to him, too.