"You've done WHAT?" I stare at my father, unable to believe what he's just told me. I jab my finger at him as we stand facing each other in the kitchen of the small apartment above the dance studio. "How could you?"

"There was no alternative, daughter," he shakes his head. "The man is a beast. He'll kill me if he doesn't get his money back. How would you, your mother and little Kir manage then?"

"You've sold me to a beast?" I pull my lips back. "God, Papa, I still can't believe you'd do such a thing." My knees give way and I collapse onto a chair. "You should have asked me first..."

Papa presses his palms to his forehead. "I wasn't going to bring this up, but you owe it to Mama and me. When you got pregnant and wouldn't tell us who the father was, we respected your privacy." A sigh escapes him. "We supported you and agreed to help raise your son." He wrings his hands together. "If you work as a cocktail waitress for Gleb Sokolov, it will give us the necessary respite to get the business back on an even keel."

I run shaky fingers through my hair. "It will be slave labor. Is that how you think of me? Like I'm a possession?" My throat clogs with unshed tears.

Papa shakes his head. "I don't think of you like that, printsesa. Believe me, I had no choice."

"Don't call me princess," I grit out. "I'm no longer your princess."

"You'll always be my princess, sweetheart." His shoulders slump. "Look on the bright side. This will get you out of the apartment. You've been holed up here far too long."

"I was sick, Papa. You know that." My eyes blaze.

"You're fully recovered now." Papa assumes a martyred expression. "We paid for your meds and for a therapist..."

Trust him to use emotional blackmail.

I'm about to retort my illness wasn't my fault, except that wouldn't be true.

I brought it on myself by having a one-night stand.

More like a ten-minute stand, if I’m honest, but with life-changing consequences.

I lower my gaze and swallow hard.

Suddenly the door opens, and Mama comes into the kitchen, fifteen-month-old Kir balanced on her hip.

She tilts her head to the side, her hazel-colored eyes homing in on Papa.

She doesn't need to say anything... her expression says it all.

She knows exactly what's been going down.

They must have cooked up this plan together.

Kir opens his chubby arms and reaches for me. I take him from Mama and breathe in his sweet baby scent. "I'll give him his bottle and settle him for the night," my voice rasps. "If I'm gonna be working nights I wanna make the most of the time I can spend with him."

"That's my girl." A smile lights Papa's eyes. "It's only for a year, and then maybe you'll have the confidence to go back to college."

"Sure," I say, picking up Kir's nighttime bottle from the warmer on the counter.

With a heavy heart, I take my leave of my parents and go to my room.

I settle Kir in my lap as I sit on an armchair and soon he's sucking rhythmically, his beautiful blue eyes gazing into mine.

My heart squeezes I love him so much. It's hard to believe I couldn't touch him, couldn't even look at him when he was first born. I would have given him up for adoption if Mama hadn't bonded with him immediately. It would have broken her heart to be separated from him, and I couldn't do that to her.

Postpartum depression was the diagnosis. I withdrew into myself, my mood swings turbulent. I felt empty most of the time, wracked by guilt and shame. Nothing anyone said or did could comfort me. I was sure I'd never be capable of looking after my son and had no interest in doing so.

Thank God Papa found me an amazing therapist, Maya, who helped me little by little. I was able to kick the antidepressants once and for all three months ago when Kir turned one.

"You are the best thing that's happened to me," I tell him, stroking his soft cheek. And it's true... despite the nature of his conception and my conflicted psyche since.

How could I not love him?

He's freaking adorable, even if he has inherited half his genes from a beast.

I close my eyes and think back to that night, how I ran from the club in the pouring rain... not even waiting for Tamara. I'd walked home without my coat, chilled to the bone, and the next morning I came down with a fever which made me delirious. I lost track of the days as Mama took care of me, and by the time I was better there was no longer a window of opportunity to take the morning after pill.

I bend and kiss Kir's smooth forehead. "I wouldn't have you if that had happened, baby boy."

I release a long, slow breath.

Of all the people Papa could have borrowed money from, cruel fate led him to Gleb Sokolov. I shudder to myself.

And now I'll be that monster's slave.

One thing is for sure, I'll never let Gleb so much as lay a finger on me. My body betrayed me with him. I fucking hate him for having that effect on me and, despite having grown to love my baby, Gleb's dominance of me changed the course of my life. I'll do everything I can to prevent him from finding out he has a son.

Suddenly my hand trembles.

He might try and take Kir away from me...

After I'd recovered from what turned out to be pneumonia, I didn't worry unduly when my period was late. I told myself it was because I'd been sick. I carried on working at Fernando's Italian Restaurant and kept up with my college classes in dance studies. I broke friends with Tamara for bailing on me and focused on my work. But, by the time I'd missed my second period, I was experiencing severe morning sickness.

There could be no doubt.

I was fucking pregnant.

Nothing would ever be the same again.

Telling my parents was damn hard. They were devastated, of course. Papa wanted to force the baby's father to pay maintenance. He tried to persuade me to reveal Gleb's name. At first, I wasn't aware I'd been fucked by the notorious Gleb Sokolov. I had no clue what he looked like; I thought he was just one of the club employees. Then I checked online, dread spreading through me when I realized the implications.

I think that's when I started spiraling into depression. I couldn't eat and lost so much weight Mama took me in hand and told me I was risking my baby's health. She practically force fed me for the rest of my pregnancy, and when I became severely ill after Kir's birth, she watched over me like a mother hen.

I smile down at my son. He's fallen asleep, his beautiful dark eyelashes fanning the apple of his soft warm cheeks. I put the bottle down on the table by the armchair and lift him into his toddler bed in the corner of my room. Papa bought it second-hand from one of his ballroom dancing students who no longer needed it.

My breath catches on a sigh. Despite my anger at what Papa has done, I know I need to see this through. If I don't, I could make things even worse. Gleb Sokolov could have my father killed.

I could take Kir and run away, I guess. But where would we go? And what would we live on? I rub my brow.

Not even an option.

I tiptoe across my bedroom and make my way back to the kitchen. Mama and Papa look up expectantly as I enter the room.

The clock on the wall ticks loudly, breaking the silence hanging in the air.

"I'll do it," I tell them.

Their faces break into smiles of relief and they leap to their feet.

"Only for a year." I step back. "And if that beast touches me I'll be out of there before he can even blink. I'm not a hooker."

Mama draws me toward her and envelopes me in a warm hug. "You're a good girl, my dear. We wouldn't have asked this of you if there was any other way out of the situation."

I squirm from her embrace and stand back, taking in how she's aged in recent months. She turned fifty last December; she's lost her dancer's figure... early menopause having piled on more than a few pounds. She has gray streaks in her hair and wrinkles under her eyes. "It's okay," I tell her. "I'm over the shock now. I'll be fine. And, if I'm not, it will give us time to come up with another solution."

My words sound confident.

Much more confident than I feel.

"Thank you," they say in unison.

"Well, I guess I'd better go to bed." I wipe my clammy hands down my jeans.

"Don't you want any supper?" Mama inclines her head toward me.

"I've kinda lost my appetite. Sorry," I kiss her on the cheek.

Papa comes up and pats me on the shoulder. "I'll give you a ride to the club in the morning. Sleep well."

I let them get on with their meal and return to my room. After taking a quick shower in the ensuite, I pull back the sheet and climb into bed. I'm not tired, though, and I toss and turn for what seems like hours before I fall into a fitful slumber, images of a man with piercing blue eyes disturbing my dreams.