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“Well, honeycup, I know a way for you to earn a few extra days. A little extension on your payment plan,” Charlie says as he leans even closer. His breath stinks. It’s hot against my cheek as I turn my face away from his pockmarked skin and yellow teeth.

My heart is racing. These guys are dangerous. And in a place like this, no matter how loud I scream, no one will even blink an eye or try to help me. I’m on my own, and this is a very bad situation.

His hand drifts over the side of my body, and I shudder, repulsed by every inch of him.

“Please, I had to go away for a few days. It was an emergency. If you explain to your boss—"

“I’ll explain, but what are you going to do for me in return? If you drop down to your knees, I might have something you can suck that would change my mind about—"

His words are cut off mid-sentence and replaced with a startled grunt as the air is pushed from his lungs.

Suddenly, he’s gone. Ripped away from me.

There is no one pinning me to the wall, and the stench of his breath is no longer hot over my face. I blink in disbelief when I see the brute of a man spin around to face his attacker, and my mouth drops open when I see that the attacker is Nestor.

Charlie is going to rip him to shreds. These people don’t play around.

And someone like Nestor doesn’t have a clue what this side of the city is about.

He’s used to his luxury and his expensive tastes.

He’s used to people respecting him and the power his money buys.

Here, people will knife you over an insult.

The only power they respect is fear. Brute force. Violence.

The man snarls at Nestor, but Nestor doesn’t budge. His eyes grow dark, and he stands his ground. He doesn’t even have a weapon in his hand. He’s going to get himself killed, and it’ll be another thing for me to worry about.

“Think twice,” Nestor says coldly.

Charlie hesitates, his eyes narrowing towards Nestor. Then they shoot wide. It’s like he recognizes him. But what connection would Charlie have to some fancy ass man in a crisp suit from the business sector?

Charlie has been a nasty, horrible, cold-hearted asshole to me every single time I’ve crossed paths with him. In fact, I’ve seen him break a guy’s leg just for the fun of it.

He’s not someone you mess with.

Yet here he is, backing away from Nestor.

He raises his hands in the air and shakes his head. “I don’t want any trouble, sir,” Charlie stammers.

Sir?

“Then fuck off,” Nestor answers calmly.

What the hell is going on? My brain is screaming in confusion.

“Yeah, sorry, man, the girl owes the boss money, man, I was just doing my job,” he says defensively.

“Looks to me like you were doing more than just your job,” Nestor snarls, threat touching his voice.

Charlie clears his throat. “I wasn’t going to—I was just—"

“I said fuck off. And do it before I change my mind,” Nestor interrupts him.

Charlie doesn’t waste a second. He bolts out of there as though a pack of wild dogs is chasing him.

I stand in disbelief, my back still pressed against the dirty wall.

“Come on, little one,” Nestor says, as though he hasn’t just faced down one of the most terrifying men I’ve ever met like the monster was nothing more than a puppy.

Nestor holds out his hand and gestures for me to move away from the wall.

I’m too nervous to argue with him, unsure now about who he really is. I walk behind him towards his car. How did he know I was here?

“Were you following me?” I ask quietly.

“Someone had to make sure you didn’t get yourself into trouble after you escaped the mansion,” he chuckles.

He stands holding the passenger door open for me, patiently waiting for me to get into his car. I do so in silence, my eyes locked onto him. Should I be scared of him?

Charlie certainly was.

The entire drive home, Nestor is relaxed and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel while he hums something I don’t recognize. I have a million questions swimming in my thoughts, but no idea how to voice them.

It isn’t until we are back inside his mansion that I blurt the first one out.

“Who are you?” I snap, shooting the question at him before I have a chance to stop myself.

I need to know.

But I’m so used to my father’s lies and manipulation, I doubt I’m going to get any kind of truth from him.

Nestor turns towards me, folding his thick, muscular arms over his broad chest. He leans his shoulder against the wall.

“Nestor Rostov,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Why am I here, Nestor Rostov?” I demand.

“Like I told you already. Your father owed me a great deal of money, more than he could possibly pay, and he negotiated with me by selling his daughter to me. Marriage in exchange for his debts.”

“Why would you want to be married?”

“Because a man like me needs children to take over his empire.”

I shake my head, not sure if I should believe this.

I press my lips together, my brows knitted tightly. “And you think I am going to give you children?” I ask carefully.

He snorts, a short burst of laughter. “When you first got here, I thought you were involved in your father’s schemes, Lara. But after today, I’ve learned a few things. I understand that you are in a serious financial sinkhole. You owe a lot of very bad people a large amount of money?”

Biting the inside of my cheek, I contemplate how much I want to admit. But at the end of the day, I’m so screwed already, and he clearly knows things, what difference does it make?

“The debts weren’t mine. They were my father’s,” I say.

“I’m aware. And your mother’s medical bills. I am sorry you had to go through that.”

There is no answer that can ease the pain I felt after losing my mom, so I stay quiet.

Nestor pushes off the wall and slowly walks around me. He lets his hand brush down my back.

“I have a solution,” he says.

I roll my eyes. “Please, I’ve had enough horrible offers from men today—"

He grins, looking down at me as he stops in front of me. “No. Don’t ever compare me to the men you’ve been dealing with this afternoon.”

Guilt stings me. He’s not like them. Even if he is hiding something, I know he’s nothing like Charlie. “Sorry,” I mutter quietly.

“My solution is this. And feel free to say no.”

“Mm?” I wait, tension building in my stomach.

“I will clear all of your debts with the bookies. I will also clear the debts with the doctors and the hospital. In exchange, you will live with me. You will stop trying to escape every day.”

“Live with you,” I murmur, not believing him.

My father has made so many promises to pay off the debt, or even just to help with some of it, and it’s never come through.

But on the other hand, I literally have nowhere to go.

I’ve been evicted from that horrible place.

I never once managed to call home, but it was home in a way.

Even if it was gross. I don’t even have that anymore.

If I don’t accept his offer, I’m literally out on the streets.

“Fine,” I huff, with no other choice, and knowing that he won’t possibly really go through with his end of the deal. But at least it’ll buy me time to find other work and somewhere else to stay. “Can I get my phone back? And not be considered a prisoner?”

“Of course, but the trust goes both ways. You won’t leave without permission, and you will always tell me where you are going.”

“Fine,” I say again.

“Good.” He smiles, and the wicked beauty of it has my heart racing in a totally different way.

I quickly look away from him, ignoring the desire building inside me.

“Um. I’m going to shower,” I say hurriedly, and push past him, up to my room.

***

The shower helps me feel less tainted by the horrible people I had to face today. I scrubbed hard to get the sensation of Charlie’s hand off my side. It makes me gag just to think about what he was asking of me. If Nestor hadn’t been there…

No.

Don’t think like that.

What you need to focus on is how you are going to pay off those assholes so that people like Charlie leave you alone forever.

I wrap a massive, fluffy white robe around my body and walk back into my room, my mind full of worry.

On my bed is my phone, next to a black box.

I dive into my phone in relief.

I desperately need this so that I can start applying for new jobs.

I poke the black box, not trusting it.

Eventually, I give in and pull the lid off, only to find a brand new iPhone. The latest model. There is a folded piece of paper in the box with a handwritten note scribbled in messy boy-writing.

Lara,

Your phone belongs in the stone ages. Please accept this as a gesture of reassurance. Welcome to your new home.

Nestor.

A brand new phone.

I’ve needed a new phone for about eight years already. The one in my hand is the only phone I’ve ever had. I’ve never been able to afford to upgrade, and the damn thing has a battery that lasts no more than an hour.

Tears sting my eyes at his kind gesture, but I blink them away. I’m scared to fall for it in case it’s another manipulation tactic. I can’t focus on his kindness. I need to focus on finding a job and sorting my life out.

***

It takes me a full day to figure out how to move all my information from my old phone to the new one.

It’s late at night, and I’m lying in bed, finishing everything up. Yesterday, I also sent off a few job applications, and I want to get access to my email to see if anyone responded.

Except when I open my inbox, the first thing that pops up is an email titled ‘Statement: Mrs. Abakumov / Dr. N. Binder.’

Dammit. I was hoping they were going to leave me alone until the end of the month.

Reluctantly, I click on it; I may as well get the reminder over with and make a note of the total I owe. I’ll need a new notebook to start tracking the debts in.

But when it opens up on my screen, I am convinced there is a mistake.

Total owed: $0.00

It can’t be.

I quickly scroll up and zoom in on the statement section, and sure enough, a massive lump sum was paid to the account just yesterday.

Nestor didn’t even ask me for the details of this account. How did he get access to the outstanding amount?

My hands start to shake with confusion and adrenaline.

I quickly scroll to my messaging app, and with nausea in my stomach, I type out a message that I send to every single one of the debt collectors. I hate contacting them. But I need to know.

Please confirm the total amount owed as of today.

The same message goes out to over eight numbers, and I stare at my phone, dreading the replies that are going to start pouring in. Threats and nasty things.

But one by one, the answers come in, and every single one of them is the same.

Zero.

Debt cleared.

Nothing.

He did it.

Nestor paid off my mother’s medical debts and every single one of the debts my father dumped onto me.

But the amount—the money I owed—was more than I could have earned in nine years. I know because I did the calculation so many times, it’s embedded in my brain.

Nine years.

Working three steady jobs and extra odd jobs and staying in that shithole apartment and hardly eating anything. Being hounded day after day by debt collectors and living a stressed, lonely life because I wouldn’t have time for friends or anything but work.

Nine years and suddenly it’s all cleared. Everything .

My body spins through a series of emotions.

Changing from shock, to confusion, to anger, back to shock—the overwhelming chaos inside me.

I toss the blankets off and slide out of bed with my new phone gripped tightly in my hands.

I storm straight to Nestor’s bedroom, knocking loudly on the door once before bursting into the room.

“How did you do it?” I demand.

Nestor is standing next to his bed wearing nothing but a pair of gray sweatpants, and for a moment, I’m just staring at things I should not be staring at.

“How did I do what, Lara?” he asks calmly.

I tear my eyes off his package and back up to his face.

“Um. How. How did you—um. The debts. How did you know who they were with? How did you get access to my mom’s medical debts? How did you know the right people to contact to get in touch with the debt collectors? I know what kind of people they are—"

“Lara, what does it matter? The debts are paid,” he shrugs.

“Why was Charlie so scared of you, Nestor?”

That is honestly the only question I need him to answer. That question would probably answer all of my other questions at the same time.

Nestor smiles tightly.

I stare at him, waiting for him to give me something that will ease my worry about who he is.

My mind is screaming that I should be grateful that I no longer have to worry about the debt—that I am free of those collectors—but another part of me is worried about who I am in debt to now.

Who I promised to live with them as part of the agreement.

Did I sell myself the same way my father sold me for money? Did I do the same thing to myself?

“You should just be happy that you don’t have to worry anymore. And you don’t have to live in that dangerous neighborhood. Okay?” he says gently, walking towards me.

He reaches out and touches my cheek.

In that moment, I become very aware that I’m only wearing a very short pair of silk boxers and a cropped silk top. Oh my word. I was in bed. I wasn’t planning on being seen by anyone dressed like this.

My eyes trace over his toned torso, and I bite down, clenching my jaw and trying to focus.

“You’re right,” I stammer, stepping away from him. “Um. Thank you.” I take another step back, and his hazel eyes watch me as I walk backwards until I am out of his room. “Goodnight,” I murmur hurriedly before running down the passage back to the privacy of my own bedroom.