Cherilyn Knight's Point Of View.
Evans, who I now realized had the temper of a spoiled child, grabbed my arm and pulled me down into his lap. His grip was rough, and he held me there as though I was some prize to be claimed. His eyes scanned my face like he was inspecting merchandise, and then, to my utter disgust, he licked his lips.
"Well, she is a beauty, Chris. Can I have her?" Evans asked, while his voice was a sleazy mixture of entitlement and excitement.
Tears started to well up in my eyes. I could not believe this was happening again. It felt like a sick repeat of the time the Don was ready to hand me over to his father, Desmond Achestan. Fear gripped me, and paralyzed my body.
The Don's expression soured, while his annoyance was clear. "First of all, you do not get to call
