now?”
“Seems to be the case,” she said, handing him a slice of banana.
“Who are you?” he said, wondering for a moment if one of his friends had sent her to mess with his head. That would be their idea of a joke. Not too funny.
“Your new trainer,” she answered briskly. “I don’t know what kind of excuses the last one let you get away with, but things they are a-changing!”
“They are?”
“Oh, yes.”
And once more their eyes met, and once more Cameron silently warned herself to be careful. This guy was a player, and she wasn’t about to fall for his game. No. She had far more importantthings on her mind, and Don Verona could turn out to be an unwelcome distraction.
Keep on remembering that , she warned herself. No involvements. Work first .
And yet…Gregg was almost a distant memory, and she’d had no one to share things with. No man to hold her at night. Marlon didn’t count. And…
No! No! No! a stern voice screamed in her head. It ain’t gonna happen. No way. No how .
End of story.
ANYA
A nya soon realized that with Sergei gone, she had nobody to depend on but herself. Sergei had treated her with kindness, but it seemed kindness didn’t pay, because Sergei was dead, and with Olga’s connections, the woman was never accused of the crime .
The morning after the shooting, Olga had Igor bring her upstairs to the bedroom she occupied on the top floor of the house. Anya had spent the night huddled in a locked closet where Igor had deposited her after Sergei was shot. She’d hardly slept at all and when Igor came to fetch her, she was painfully aware that she smelled, her hair was matted and her clothes grimy .
“What’s your name?” Olga barked .
“Anya,” she replied, quite startled by the luxury of Olga’s bedroom. There was an enormous bed, long satin drapes hanging from the windows, and a big white furry rug on the floor. Anya had never seen such luxury.
“How old are you?” Olga asked, rubbing her hands together in anticipation of the money this morsel of a girl would bring in.
“Fifteen,” Anya whispered.
“Fifteen an’ not a virgin,” Olga muttered. “But you can pretend, can’t you?”
Anya nodded, although she really didn’t understand what the woman was getting at.
“Take your clothes off,” Olga ordered.
Anya stiffened.
“Don’t be shy,” Olga said. “I’ve seen it all before.”
Timidly Anya slipped off her dress. Sergei had never thought to buy her underwear, so she stood in front of the intimidating woman and Igor–who skulked by the door.
Standing there, naked and shivering, a feeling of hopelessness overcame her.
“Not bad,” Olga said, reaching for a porcelain mug filled with sweet black tea. “Nothing that a bath and a delousing can’t take care of.”
At that precise moment Anya made a promise to herself that one day she would be treated as a human being and not a piece of meat. One day she would take her revenge on all these people .
In her heart she knew that day would come .
Chapter Eleven
“I ’ve decided to throw a surprise birthday party for Ryan,” Mandy informed Lucy as they sat at an outside table at The Ivy .
“And I’m thinking of divorcing Phil,” Lucy responded, adjusting her Dolce & Gabanna sunglasses, wondering if she was being observed by sneaky paparazzi hiding in the black SUV parked across the street.
“Oh my God! What’s he done now?” Mandy exclaimed, thinking that she should actually be saying– who’s he doing now? Because Phil Standard’s sexual activities were general knowledge. He was a bad bad boy, but lovable all the same.
“He’s refusing to cooperate on my career comeback,” Lucy said petulantly. “Phil can be a jealous prick when it suits him. He doesn’t relish the idea of me attracting any more attention than I already have.”
“Phil, jealous?” Mandy said, not quite believing it, for Phil always seemed so easygoing.
“Oh yes,” Lucy said, filled with the unfairness of
“Seems to be the case,” she said, handing him a slice of banana.
“Who are you?” he said, wondering for a moment if one of his friends had sent her to mess with his head. That would be their idea of a joke. Not too funny.
“Your new trainer,” she answered briskly. “I don’t know what kind of excuses the last one let you get away with, but things they are a-changing!”
“They are?”
“Oh, yes.”
And once more their eyes met, and once more Cameron silently warned herself to be careful. This guy was a player, and she wasn’t about to fall for his game. No. She had far more importantthings on her mind, and Don Verona could turn out to be an unwelcome distraction.
Keep on remembering that , she warned herself. No involvements. Work first .
And yet…Gregg was almost a distant memory, and she’d had no one to share things with. No man to hold her at night. Marlon didn’t count. And…
No! No! No! a stern voice screamed in her head. It ain’t gonna happen. No way. No how .
End of story.
ANYA
A nya soon realized that with Sergei gone, she had nobody to depend on but herself. Sergei had treated her with kindness, but it seemed kindness didn’t pay, because Sergei was dead, and with Olga’s connections, the woman was never accused of the crime .
The morning after the shooting, Olga had Igor bring her upstairs to the bedroom she occupied on the top floor of the house. Anya had spent the night huddled in a locked closet where Igor had deposited her after Sergei was shot. She’d hardly slept at all and when Igor came to fetch her, she was painfully aware that she smelled, her hair was matted and her clothes grimy .
“What’s your name?” Olga barked .
“Anya,” she replied, quite startled by the luxury of Olga’s bedroom. There was an enormous bed, long satin drapes hanging from the windows, and a big white furry rug on the floor. Anya had never seen such luxury.
“How old are you?” Olga asked, rubbing her hands together in anticipation of the money this morsel of a girl would bring in.
“Fifteen,” Anya whispered.
“Fifteen an’ not a virgin,” Olga muttered. “But you can pretend, can’t you?”
Anya nodded, although she really didn’t understand what the woman was getting at.
“Take your clothes off,” Olga ordered.
Anya stiffened.
“Don’t be shy,” Olga said. “I’ve seen it all before.”
Timidly Anya slipped off her dress. Sergei had never thought to buy her underwear, so she stood in front of the intimidating woman and Igor–who skulked by the door.
Standing there, naked and shivering, a feeling of hopelessness overcame her.
“Not bad,” Olga said, reaching for a porcelain mug filled with sweet black tea. “Nothing that a bath and a delousing can’t take care of.”
At that precise moment Anya made a promise to herself that one day she would be treated as a human being and not a piece of meat. One day she would take her revenge on all these people .
In her heart she knew that day would come .
Chapter Eleven
“I ’ve decided to throw a surprise birthday party for Ryan,” Mandy informed Lucy as they sat at an outside table at The Ivy .
“And I’m thinking of divorcing Phil,” Lucy responded, adjusting her Dolce & Gabanna sunglasses, wondering if she was being observed by sneaky paparazzi hiding in the black SUV parked across the street.
“Oh my God! What’s he done now?” Mandy exclaimed, thinking that she should actually be saying– who’s he doing now? Because Phil Standard’s sexual activities were general knowledge. He was a bad bad boy, but lovable all the same.
“He’s refusing to cooperate on my career comeback,” Lucy said petulantly. “Phil can be a jealous prick when it suits him. He doesn’t relish the idea of me attracting any more attention than I already have.”
“Phil, jealous?” Mandy said, not quite believing it, for Phil always seemed so easygoing.
“Oh yes,” Lucy said, filled with the unfairness of
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