The Beast stole me from the Devil . . .
I was born a trophy owned by the Resnov Bratva, waiting for the day they’d collect.
My identity was engraved in their legacy, and my only purpose was to obey, to submit. I had no voice, and most of all, I had no choice.
I was promised to one yet stolen by another. Simeon Resnov was my savior, a different kind of beast. A beautiful contradiction to the name he carried.
He hid the darkness in him so well.
She was meant to sit on a mantel, waiting for her rightful owner to claim her. On that day, she’d be used until there was nothing left until her existence was nothing but blood on his hands.
But the moment I saw her, I recognized the pain in her eyes. It drew me in, entranced me, and turned into an obsession that demanded I have her.
So, I took her. I stole the girl branded to another, and now her broken soul is mine to mend…to break…
And mend again.
Targeted Age Group:: Adults
Heat/Violence Level: Heat Level 5 – NC-17
What Inspired You to Write Your Book?
This book has a lot of dark themes to it, and is partly inspired by real life. I have worked with victims of sex trafficking (CSEC) and I already write romance. I wanted to write about a girl who has all the odds stacked up against her and finds a hero in a most unexpected place.
How Did You Come up With Your Characters?
Well, Simeon, the hero or rather villain ( regarding how you perceive him), had a very short role in my Fearless Series. Fans asked for more, and I gave in 😉
Anastasiya is a mixture of any young lady who has been through hard times and prevailed.
Merriam-Webster defines invisible, noun, as someone or something that cannot be seen or perceived. Based on that definition, most children would never choose invisibility as the focal point for a daydream. Lots of children’s innocent fantasies revolve around becoming a superhero or a pretty, little princess.
I wasn't your ordinary child; I’d take invisibility any day over anything in this dark, dead world. Though no matter how much wishing on a star I did, my beauty refused to fade. My body, curves, full lips blossomed instead of withering . . . Invisible. I
resided in a gilded cage in a castle in Moscow. The place operated as an orphanage; however, we Castle Girls were on display for our future owner’s delight. Wealthy men, and a smaller demographic of affluent women, had their choice of all the pretty trinkets adorning the walls. We came in shades from obsidian to porcelain, from petit to curvy to boyish.
Money was king in this business—my life.
The word ‘parent’ held no sentiment in my heart. The rainbow of non-blood siblings I had was moya sem’ya—my family. The need to survive tethered us. We were chattel of the rossiyskaya mafiya—Resnov Bratva. They packaged and marketed sex trafficking in shiny wrapping paper fit for a “fairytale” if you could be bold or heartless enough to find amusement in such things. Us, Castle Girls, were born in this world. Before we were touched, we had a controlled life. It included exceptional instruction in etiquette and a prestigious education—that is if we were required to have a brain or not. Our owners came to the castle and staked their claim to us when we had an ample pair of breasts, hips, or an ass. In other cases, the cruel bastards ruined us younger. Whatever those rich men fancied decided when we left the castle for the last time. That was when our innocence bled out.
Only, the Resnov’s never made the standard 20 mil off me. Though, some girls go for more. I became a trophy, a Resnov possession.
So, if you’re curious as to which of us girls was worth the most— Unfortunately for me . . . It was me.
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