VOLKOVA

I was never meant to have a choice. My father’s sins became my burden the day he sold me to clear his debt. One moment, I was free, the next, I stood on a stage, auctioned off like property in the black market, a million-dollar price tag hanging over my head. And then he saw me through the tiny screen of his phone. He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t bat an eye to make a decision. With one simple bid, I became his. Kael Aslanov, ruthless, untouchable, a man as feared as he is desired. He calls me his little muse, a doll, a fragile thing meant to be dressed up, paraded, and played with at his whim. To him, I am not a person, but a possession. A toy for his amusement. A caged bird meant to sing only for him. I should hate him. And I do. I hate his control, his cruel games, the way he twists my mind until I no longer know what’s real. I hate how he pushes me to the edge just to watch me fall, only to catch me at the last second, whispering promises that taste like poison. But what I hate the most… is how much I want him. Because every touch burns. Every whisper breaks me. Every glance from those piercing eyes unravels the fight in me, thread by thread. He is my captor, my tormentor, my nightmare, and yet, in his arms, I feel something I shouldn’t. Something dangerous. Desire. And that might just be my biggest mistake of all.