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“Oliveria, as in the Portuguese mob?”
Ruslan nods. “Yes.”
“Why now? He’s shown no interest in working with our family ever.”
“I know, which is why I want to accept the invitation. I’m seeking the same answers you are. I know we have things he needs, but what does he need? You know what I’m saying? I know a few things about Duarte’s dealings in the past.”
“Like?”
“He refused to work with Anzor when Anzor approached him, so he shows some sort of allegiance to us. I don’t know why, so I want you to find that out for me.”
“Could it be because he wanted to work with us from the start and wouldn’t risk working with Anzor if it meant losing the connection with us once you gained power back?”
Ruslan nods. “It might be, but I won’t know until you meet with him.”
“Me?” Why the fuck isn’t he going to meet with Duarte? I’ve never been sent out alone to complete a task like this at all. I know I can handle it, but this is quite the leap.
“Yes, you. Lom has taken a lot of control over the family business, and Eset handles quite a bit too. It’s time for you to step up as well, Nazyr. It’s your birthright.”
Ever since we discovered that Eset and I weren’t Anzor’s children, I think things have changed. “Okay. I’ll go. When am I leaving?”
“In a couple of days,” Ruslan tells me, and I nod. “That’s what I needed you here for, so you’re free to go.”
He’s got to be fucking with me right now. We might have had a ten-minute conversation together, and he told me he couldn’t wait twenty minutes? Fuck, I could’ve had a really good lay in that bathroom with Madina.
Whatever, I guess there’s nothing I can do about it now.
I rise from my seat and then leave the office. As I’m heading out, my brother’s wife, Amelia, comes into view. “Hey, Nazyr.”
“Hey there, Amelia.”
Amelia comes a few steps closer and inhales slowly, then her features fall a bit. “You’ve been drinking tonight again, haven’t you?”
“I already got a lecture from my brother. I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t need one from you too. I’m stressed out, Amelia, and the alcohol makes it a bit easier to deal with my stress sometimes.”
Ruslan didn’t give me a lecture, but he didn’t have to. I could see the disappointment crossing his face the same way I could see it on hers.
“Okay, well, we’re just a bit worried about you. I know what you and Eset found out was huge, so I’m just trying to let you know we’re here for you if you need us.”
I smile at my sister-in-law, grateful for how supportive she’s being, but I’m okay. I’m dealing with this in my own way, and I know I’ll get through it. Things are just a bit rough right now since everything is so fresh.
Chapter Two
Mona
It’s been three long years since I was brought here after that fateful night. We’re in the second week of March… and in May, it will mark my third anniversary of being a slave to Duarte Oliveria—if I can even call it an anniversary in the first place. I suppose slave is even a nice term for what I am, but I don’t know what else I should call myself.
I’ve been here for a few days since I was drugged in that restaurant. Hell, I was drugged when I woke up here. The last thing I remember after being in that restaurant was being locked in a small room. I remember the floors were so cold, but it was dark, so I couldn’t see what I was sitting on. I can only assume they were cement, or some sort of stone, because what else is that cold?
After I was there, a man came inside the room and choked me to near unconsciousness. I thought I was being killed and fought like hell, but the moment I felt a needle in my neck, I knew I wasn’t dying. When I woke up in the room I’m in now, I was confused. The room was the exact opposite of the place I had been in. It was big and well-lit, and there were four large windows. I remember the way the sun beamed in through the windows that day. It made my heart so happy. I thought I might get out of the situation I was in, but I was so very wrong.
I was so wrong it wasn’t even funny.
I ended up meeting Duarte, and everything went downhill from there. I was made to understand the severity of my reality—that I belonged to him. I was no longer a person with rights. I was a thing. An item. A possession.
So now, I’m sitting on the small white chair in my bedroom. There are two decorative pillows on it, in a sky blue color. One is a solid color, while the other is a mixture of white with the same shade of blue in a floral pattern.
My duvet and throw pillows all match this chair. It’s been this way for years. Since I’ve been here, actually. I don’t know if this was a guest room for Duarte’s friends when they came to visit or if he prepped this room for whoever would be his newest toy. Something in the back of my mind tells me that if it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else.
