‘Who is going to sell you?’ His voice was deep and harsh. It sounded like stones scraping over one another.
‘The boss,’ she said. ‘Ivan Vasiliev.’
The man’s expression was merely one of polite interest, though it was difficult to tell with those horrific scars clawing his face. He certainly didn’t seem worried or upset or even angry as she’d mentioned Vasiliev’s name.
Perhaps he knew that Ivan Vasiliev had bought two children through human trafficking networks, and that one had been chosen to be his daughter, while the other had ended up as a servant. Perhaps it didn’t bother him. Perhaps he’d even been involved with it himself.
Rose went cold at that thought, but she let none of her fear show. Hiding her emotions was one of the first things she’d learned how to do when she’d arrived here and now it was so ingrained it was automatic.
It didn’t matter if he was involved. The only thing that mattered was that he could get her out. Athena had told her she was going to be sold and Rose believed her implicitly. But Athena hadn’t known details such as why or to who, but neither of them ever knew those things.
Rose had been brought here as a child, given the bare minimum of schooling, then put to work. She’d never been allowed to leave, not even once, and all forms of communication with the outside world were banned. All she knew was what she’d managed to glean from eavesdropping on conversations and discussions with Athena.
There had been moments over the years where she’d thought about trying to escape, but the practicalities had always defeated her, and so she’d stayed. Yet she’d never forgotten that she was a prisoner.
And now Vasiliev was going to get rid of her, she wasn’t even that. She was property.
‘I see,’ the man said in his rough, scraping voice, the expression on his scarred face impassive. ‘And what makes you think I’ll help you, Rose?’
‘I don’t think you’ll help me,’ she answered bluntly. ‘I only hope that you will.’
He was silent a moment, the intensity of his silvery-green gaze unnerving. ‘Why me?’
Rose clenched her hands unconsciously. ‘I have no one else to ask. There are no other guests and... You are the only one who hasn’t tried to touch me. Not once.’
He gave a grating, mirthless laugh. ‘That’s all? Your bar for trustworthiness is very low.’
Rose ignored the tension coiling deep in her gut. She had to convince him to help her, she had to. He was her last chance. ‘I don’t need to trust you. I just need you to get me out of here.’ She took a steadying breath. ‘I’ll do anything you want. Anything at all.’ She hadn’t meant to offer herself, but she would. If it meant getting out of here, she’d let him do whatever he wanted with her. Athena had protected her from most unwanted attention—unlike some of the other women who did the cleaning—and so she hadn’t been touched. But that didn’t mean she didn’t know what men wanted from a woman.
‘Anything at all,’ the man echoed softly and there was something in his voice that made her shiver, though she wasn’t sure what it was. It wasn’t an unpleasant shiver either. Strange. His gaze was very steady, not dropping to assess her figure the way some men’s did. He stared right into her eyes.
Rose wasn’t used to anyone seeing her, reallyseeingher. And not merely as a method by which a fireplace got clean or a bed got made, or as an object to either manhandle or beat. A thing. But seeing her as a person.
She wasn’t sure she liked it. It made her insides shift uncomfortably, as if it was a challenge he was issuing and a part of her wanted to answer it. But that was difficult when the impact of his attention felt like a weight slowly pushing her into the floor.
His eyes are beautiful.
She gritted her teeth. She had no idea why she was thinking about his eyes, but she knew she couldn’t look away. That would betray fear and betraying fear was just about the worst thing she could do. Fear invited beatings or worse. Strength was all in this place and so strength she would give him.
‘So, you would give me your body if I asked for it?’ His tone was very casual, as if he asked such things of women every day and with the same unblinking stare. ‘Take off your uniform and lay yourself out naked on my bed?’
This is a test.
She didn’t know how she knew; she just did. Just as she was clear she would pass it. She’d had such tests before and she’d never failed them.
‘Yes,’ she said. And then, because she wasn’t the only one who could be tested, she added, ‘Though you’ll have to help me with the zip.’ And she turned around, presenting her back to him.
Silence fell.
Her heartbeat thudded in her ears. Her awareness narrowed on him behind her, waiting for the sounds of him rising and coming over to her, taking the tab of her zip and pulling it down.
Her skin prickled.
She hoped he would be gentle, though he didn’t look like a man who knew what gentleness was. Perhaps he would be quick then. Quick was good, or so she’d heard from the other maids.
Thank God Athena’s protection had saved her from that. Athena had been brought here at the same time as she had, two little girls terrified out of their minds and clinging to each other during the long journey to Vasiliev’s house. Athena too had been taken off the streets. Except Athena hadn’t been chosen for servitude, she’d been chosen by Vasiliev’s wife as a replacement for a daughter who’d died.
She now lived a life of pampered luxury, yet she was as much a prisoner as Rose. It was Athena who insisted Rose spend time with her, even though Vasiliev’s wife disapproved. And it was Athena who’d let it be known that no one was allowed to touch Rose or else she’d be distraught, and no one wanted Athena distraught because that made Vasiliev’s wife distraught, and Vasiliev would do anything for his wife.