His Price Was My Children
Language: en
Five years after I walked out on Damon Kincaid, I saw him again at an auction. The difference was, I was the merchandise, caged for public scorn. He was the high-roller, seated in the VIP section, ready to spend a fortune. We played the part of strangers. It wasn’t until some rich bastard bid fifty thousand dollars to buy me that Damon shattered the iron cage, grabbed my chin, and snarled: “You’d rather be a cheap piece of trash than come back and beg me?” “Anya Rossi, you truly are despicable.” I tore his hand from my jaw and offered a smile that didn't reach my eyes. “My buyer is…