Elena's POV
The clang of the dog food can and the maid's Italian still rang in my ears.
"I'm not a dog, even if I was sold to him." Pet or not, I was still human.
But the more I repeated it, the hollower it sounded.
I pushed the can aside and sat on the floor, knees drawn tight to my chest. The air in this so-called room was damp enough to glue my hair to my skin.
The maid grabbed a fistful of my gold-brown hair, yanking my head back.
"What? Still daydreaming about being Mr. Marlowe's escort?" she sneered, opening another can with a sharp c***k before tossing it at me. "You're nothing but a cheap pet, worth less than his dog."
I bit my lips to hold back my tears. Above me, footsteps sounded, measured, deliberate, and far too heavy to belong to the younger maids.
Is it Noah?
I dare
