Chapter Seventeen
By the next morning, I’m back to square one. No clothes, no daily phone calls, and no second chair. My room has pretty much been stripped of nearly everything but the bed sheets.
It’s obvious Zahir plans to teach me a serious lesson this time. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he really does make me sit by his legs like a dog, as he threatened to do after the Holt call.
I don’t care.
Darius Ross…he is the only thing on my mind. Not Zahir. Not the mother he refuses to talk about. Not even myself.
Which is why I drop to my knees into a full-on kowtow as soon as I come out of the bathroom and find him waiting for me at the breakfast table. Lowering not just my eyes and head, but my whole damn body. I prostrate myself with my bound wrists out as I say, “Oh great, sheikh, pl
