Shaking like a leaf, I pull my dress back on in the bathroom of the office building I’ve been brought to. As soon as I stepped out of that room, I doubled over, struck down by my own humiliation.

Not just that, though. I am hurt by Monster’s actions. Not just the way he grabbed the back of my neck. Not just the way he shamed me and made me crawl on my hand and knees in front of a room full of strange men.

No, I am wounded and furious because Monster used who I am — used my whole life as Katherine Carolla — to debase me. He mocked my nudity to them. He told that room full of men that my father sold me, which made me want to sink into the floor.

I can’t believe that Monster would do that.

No, actually, I can.

What I can’t believe, is that I thought for a second that I was worth something in his eyes, that I had some kind of value to him beyond what’s between my legs.

After scurrying into the bathroom and getting dressed, I just lean against the wall and close my eyes. I let the tears roll down my face as I roll through the adjectives that I should use to describe myself.

Stupid.

Naive.

Foolish.

Not good for anything more than my ass and my tits.

When someone bangs on the bathroom door, I jump. “Hurry the fuck up! We are heading back to the hotel soon.”

For the barest moment, I consider barricading myself in this bathroom. After all, they can’t really do anything to me if they can’t reach me. And I’m probably better off here in the US.

But then I remember all the things that Monster whispered in my ear to get me to strip down in the first place. He threatened to put me in The Box.

More importantly, he threatened my puppy, Cerberus. Thinking of his sweet puppy face and his curly black hair, I wipe at my face. There’s a bang on the door again, just as I open it.

One of the Columbian bodyguards is right there, scowling at me. “I said to hurry up.”

He grabs me roughly by the arm, yanking me out of the bathroom. I don’t have time to react to his aggressive touch, nor what happens next.

“Let her go,” Monster growls, coming from outside of my field of vision. He punches the Columbian in the head, making the other man drop my arm. Monster points at the guard, who is bent over, holding his ear. “Don’t you ever touch her again.”

My heart flutters a little at Monster’s defense of me, even though I know it’s meaningless. He turns to me, the picture of solicitousness.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

He cradles me by the shoulders, seeming worried. I sniffle, not even sure how to answer that. Obviously, I’m not okay, but it goes back to the first day that I met Monster.

“Come on,” he urges me, turning my shoulders toward the door. “We have a lot to talk about, privately.”

He ushers me outside, where an SUV is waiting. We slide into the back seat. I wipe at my face, trying not to look like what I am: a girl who was kidnapped off the street.

As the SUV pulls off, Monster turns to me. “You were a very good girl in that meeting. You helped me a lot.”

I stare at him blankly, not sure what he wants from me. A smile? A laugh? That’s not happening.

He frowns. “What I’m saying is that I think you should be rewarded for doing such a good job.”

I swallow but stay silent. Focusing on his face, he seems a little discomfited that I am not more exuberant.

“What if I told you that I bought a house here in New Orleans?” he asks.

My mouth opens, but no words come out. That is the last thing I expected him to say, honestly. He glances at me and grins.

“I’m serious. I’ve already looked at a few places here in the city. It’s already practically done.”

My head aches a little from his wild vacillation from being an absolute bastard to offering to buy me a house in the city I grew up in. I eye him warily.

“I don’t understand,” I say. “What you said back there—”

He stretches out in the backseat. “A little theater for a bunch of men. Can you really blame me?”

“You made me feel like I was worthless,” I spit out. “Like I’m just some pile of garbage you like to kick around.”

Monster looks at me contemplatively. “Whatever I may feel about you, what I said back there was just—”

“Don’t say theater,” I say, gritting my teeth. “Theater implies two willing and knowledgeable parties, acting together. This… this was just…”

He folds his arms, looking annoyed. “Don’t make it more than it is. Do you want to be rewarded for helping me out or not?”

I turn to look out the window, the streets feeling familiar yet empty. “Of course, I do.”

“Well, all right then. Driver? Take us to see the house on Prytania Street,” he commands.

And that’s how everything in his world works, I realize. Monster says jump, and all the rest of us try to see how high we can make it. How much we can please him.

I sit back, crossing my arms. It feels stupid, sulking like a spoiled child, but I literally don’t know what else to do. There is no reasoning with him, no reforming his ways.

He’s just… like he is. Passionate, enraging, and possibly completely fucking insane.

And me? I’m just the naive little girl who happens to be owned by him.