She didn't know me.

Or she did and just didn't remember. Or maybe this was wrong to begin with, and she really wasn't my sister.

Pulling the door open, my body pressed against it, making room for the trembling girl behind me to enter the suite. The edge of my handgun pressed firmly into my waist, a reminder of how much blood had been shed to get this girl.

Her head turned from me to the dark interior of the suite and then back to me. "Go in."

The moment the words left my lips, she darted inside, flinching when the door slammed shut behind me, her eyes moved to me. My fingers traced the white walls for the light switch, flicking it on and illuminating the large room.

She pulled off my jacket slowly, seductively, her pointed siren eyes roaming my body. Exactly like she'd probably been taught. Her small frame seemed so out of place in the suite. Her steps barely made any noise against the white, polished tiles.

"Your things aren't here yet, but I'm sure there's a robe or something in the bathroom." My chin jerked to the direction of the bathroom. "You can clean up, then we'll take a look at your wounds."

Her brows drew together, confusion sewn into her expression. She'd been like that for basically the whole night. Unstable and afraid. Not that she was to blame, it was expected. Nodding, she turned and walked towards the grey door, wincing when her hip collided with the edge of the cream ceramic table in the dining area.

Her waist length black hair covered her like a coat. The edges were slightly damp, but other than that, she was completely dry.

A part of me had hoped that when she heard my last name, she would recognise me. But every second spent taking in her features made it more clear that she might not be my sister. Might not be Stella.

Moving towards the king-sized bed took more effort than it should've. The bed creaked when my weight collided with it. The plush white sheets almost dragged me under.

How did I get this so wrong? The shower came on, reminding me of the human sized problem currently in my bathroom.

We were supposed to fly back to Chicago tomorrow, but that was when there had been no doubt that my Stella would be here. Ariella couldn't stay here though, Vegas would swallow her whole and leave no crumbs. But the Chicago mafia would crumble the moment the Morozcov family appeared weak.

My mind slowly zoned out, only returning back to reality when delicate fingers wrap around my foot, yanking my shoe off it.

My reaction is instinct. Pushing up from the bed, my right hand gripped my handgun from its holster, aiming it at the person who touched me.

Ariella shrunk back on her knees,choking on her scream. She was naked except for a small towel wrapped around her, and holding my fucking shoe. If not for her being fucking terrified, her beauty was difficult to ignore.

Eyes narrowed, my armed hand lowered. "What the fuck are you doing?"The words came out harsher than intended.

"I_ you were asleep. I wanted to ask you if you wanted me to just take a shower or if you wanted me to wait for you in a bath, but you were asleep, still wearing your shoes. I just thought _" Her pupils glistened with unshed tears as she finally stood, the towel drew dangerously high bur her eyes never left the weapon in my hand.

Sighing, my fingers uncurled around the gun, dropping it against the bed. This couldn't be happening.

She stepped back, gasping when I rose from the bed to my full height and kicked off the other shoe. "Drop it, Ariella."

Her head lowered to the shoe in her hand, after a second it landed on the tiles with a thud.

"I'm sorry." Her voice shook, eyes refusing to meet my gaze. It made me want to see her even more.

"Come on, let's get you cleaned up." Her body was completely tense, like the concept of me following her to the bathroom was only stirring trouble.

The door was still open, and the inside smelled vaguely of citrus and maybe strawberries.

A large wall sized mirror sat in front of a clean gold and cream counter. A bathtub sat at the very corner painted gold, the tap was turned on,and it was nearly half way filled.

The shower was still on as well, the glass door translucent from the steam of the hot water.

Stepping forward, she turned the shower off and made her way to the ceramic tub, climbing the two steps that that held it up.

Her hips swayed deliberately, arms dropping to her sides, the towel fell off her frame.

My eyes snapped away to the large tub. I sat at the edge of the tub, extending my arm to check the temperature and adding a few oils and scents.

"Get it." The water was warm enough that it wouldn't hurt her wounds, but would still be comfortable to sit in.

She sat in the tub, knees pulled to her chest like a child, staring at me. Her blue eyes were wide staring at me.

She moaned when the loofah touched her body, my touch light. Her body relaxing even when my hand brushed against her round breasts, and she eventually leaned back with a sigh.

The tension came right back when it was time to wash between her legs. Her back straightened, she avoided my gaze. "It's ok, Ariella, I'm not going to hurt you."

Even after she was clean she didn't relax. My fingers wrapped around her chin, raising it up gently. "Stay like this. I'm going to wash your hair, I don't want the soap to get into your eyes."

She nodded slightly, obeying my command. Once her locks were thoroughly soaked, I lathered her scalp with shampoo, rubbing it in slow deliberate circles. She shivered, a soft hum rose from her throat.

I didn't ask if it felt good, that would just make her afraid of the pleasure. Maybe without drawing attention, she'll allow herself to bask in it for a while.

Eventually, the hair had to be rinsed. She looked a little sad but her skin would wrinkle and we needed to get some sleep for our flight to Chicago tomorrow morning. There was still hope that this was Stella.

It's been so many years since she got lost, seeing our home in Chicago might remind her of something. After all she was only ten when she went missing.

With me as support, Ariella stood up in the tub, stepping out gently. "Thank you sir."

"Killian." A grunt escaped my throat. "You can call me Killian." Her brows draw into each other, frowning slightly as she reached out and picked a clean towel from the rack, before her hand touched it she stared at me for approval.

After drying her up we went back to the bedroom. A large cart sat near the edge of the table, filled with all sorts of food. Someone must've come in here to drop it.

"Where do you want me...Killian." Ariella said sultry, tracing her fingers over the buttons of my white shirt.

My hands darted out, holding her still before she dropped the towel covering her. Minus the fact that there was still a slight possibility this was my sister, there was no way in fucking hell we were having sex after what she's been through.

"There are some clothes in the suitcases next to the bed. They're all probably big, but wear whatever you like and come to the table to eat." Her expression morphed from seductive surprise, like my words came out in a different language.

We had dinner in silence, my oversized grey shirt barely hung to her frame, falling off her shoulder multiple times. She ate like a starved animal, shoveling the food into her mouth like it would dissappear if she so much as looked away.

In my exhaustion and desperation to get to bed, the last problem of the night presented itself. "We need to be up early. I know you're probably confused, I'll explain everything soon, ok? Go to bed."

She shifted on her feet, trembling slightly, before she crawled onto the bed, positioning herself in the centre, on her hands and knees and her back arched. Presenting herself to me.

Bile nearly rose to my throat. "What are you doing? I didn't tell you to do that."

"I_ you told me to..." if she was trembling before, she was shaking now.

Sitting on the bed, my hand brushes against her now dry hair. Ariella basically purs, leaning into my hand. "I meant to sleep. Nothing more. I'm not going to touch you."

My arms wrapped around her slender waist, so thin it was almost unhealthy. Almost. We settled on different sides of the bed, since she probably didn't want to touch me anyway. Offering herself to me chance she got was just another proof of the horror she'd lived though.

Warm arms closed around my chest shyly, and then her mane of black hair was buried in the crook of my neck, her breath hot against my skin as she spoke. "Please don't sell me."

My words got clogged in my throat, unable to give her an answer. Even if she wasn't my sister, there was no way in fucking hell she was going back to the system that so clearly failed her.

We're on a jet. A private fucking jet.

And the man sitting across from me on the plush white couch that took up the entirety of the left, owned it.

My stomach ached slightly, probably having difficulty digesting the large breakfast that was served to me. Or maybe it was anticipation. We hadn't had sex last night, and my request had gone completely unanswered. Not even a hint as to whether or not he would infact, sell me or not.

Killian had been questioning me all morning, asking about my childhood and my kidnapping. When someone first sold me. Strange things he shouldn't have cared about.

Every answer was a lie that made me squirm in the yellow sundress he brought to me this morning. He must've known, but he never forced the truth out of me. Which was good for me because every fact he knew would only be weapons he could use to make my life more miserable than it already was.

After getting nowhere with asking about my past he started asking me regular 'getting to know you' questions. There was no way he could use that information against me, and there were only so many lies he could take from me before he became angry. And angry men always meant some form of pain. At the moment, all that mattered to me was surviving, and if making conversation with Killian was how, then that was what would happen.

The interior of the jet gleamed, all the translucent windows were sealed shut, and a few rows of plane seats were placed near the front, an orange door was the only demarcation between there and here. If he got mad and reached for me on the couch, there would be no escape.

"What do you like." His deep husky voice penetrated the room again, taking another sip from the glass and crossing his legs, his navy blue suit framed his body perfectly. He noticed my gaze on the glass and offered it to me.

"Um_ cake?" My teeth sunk into my lower lip. That was such a stupid answer.

He reached across the couch, gently pulling my lip from between my teeth. "You'll hurt yourself." He said, leaning back. "So, you like cake? What flavor?"

Wasn't he bored? Last night there'd been no doubt as to why he'd bought me, but now it didn't feel like he wanted sex.

"Chocolate. And strawberry. I love strawberry." Back when my life was still mine, my parents used to buy me triple layered cakes on all my birthdays, while we all pretended it was going to be a surprise. The ache that used to be buried in my chest rose again. My mother's dimpled smile was still plastered in my memory.

A deep chuckle dragged me from my depressing thoughts. Killian still had a ghost of a smile on his face. "What's so funny?"

"It's nothing. You just remind me of someone I used to be close to." He sighed, expression not happy but definitely not the same frown he carried last night.

"Used to?" This was a dangerous play, asking questions that weren't my business.

"We don't see each other anymore. You look alot like her." His eyes roamed me, like he was staring at some sort of mirror image of the person he was talking about.

Before the next stupid question left my lips though, one of the flight attendants came in, bowing slightly to Killian. "We're about to land, please return to the seats and buckle yourselves in. If you have further needs we well see to it after landing."

Killian signed as the girl walked away, pulling me off the couch as he stood "Let's go. I'm guessing this is also your first time on a plane?"

"No, I've been on planes before, never any this beautiful though." Once again, the beautiful interior catches my eye, from the diamond shaped lights on the premium leather ceiling to the plush silk carpets beneath my feet.

"Really? When?" He pushed the orange door open, stepping aside to let me enter first. Six cushioned seats are arranged evenly on both sides, a small glass table beside each.

My breath hitched, taking in the light cinnamon scent of the jet, hesitating. He's still trying to learn about my past. "A few of my past owners liked to travel."

He grunted, probably irritated by the mention of the people who owned me before him. A reminder that he was carrying used goods.

The though still hung in my mind as Killian nudged me gently into one of the front seats, dragging the leather belt across me securely.

"Landing might be a bit intense, but just remember that it's safe. So don't scream again." Killian deadpanned, a single eyebrow raised.

My face flushed the memory of my reaction when the jet hit turbulence in the air still followed me like a plague built with humiliation.

"I won't. I'll be good." He sucked in a breath, patting my head gently before settling on the seat across from me.

Landing is rough as expected, even with the pilot himself announcing it again. My jaw ached from how hard my teeth grounded together. The whole process went by in a blur until the plane landed and Killian was escorting me out of it.

The hanger was so big, part of me was convinced someone would get lost.

The plane sat at the centre of the metal interior, the forth wall was completely pulled up leaving a wide open space that gave a view of the airport.

A woman approached us as soon as we stepped out of the plane, giving orders to the men standing around to carry the luggage into the carts and away. They all wore the same red vest and pleated trousers.

"Mr Morozcov, welcome. I trust your flight was well?" She said, her black hair was pulled into a tight bun, formal just like the black suit.

"Ruth, thank you for your help." He turned to me, gesturing at the woman. "This is Ruth, she's my secretary."

Ruth stared at me, eyes wide and smiling slightly. "You really found her?"

"No." Killian's answer is sharp, my head snapped up to stare. Hadn't he found me? "I'm not sure."

Ruth nodded, reaching for me only for Killian to yank me back by my wrist.

After clearing her throat, Ruth spoke again. "The car is this way. Mr Morozcov, some of the partners requested a physical meeting with you tonight, I haven't given them a final answer though."

Killian nodded, following her and dragging me with him, his grip on my wrist didn't bruise, but it was firm.

She led us out of the airport to the busy Chicago streets, approaching a black car. My knowledge of cars were close to non-existent, but this definitely wasn't the car we drove last night. Once again the question of who Killian was ans why he wanted me hung in my brain. Every answer seemed more illogical than the last.

Killian pulled the car door open for me, letting me enter before sitting next to me. Ruth was already in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel and the order on the gear.

The mysteries surrounding this man felt choking. Curiosity wasn't a privilege for me, but every part of me burned to know what was happening.

He clearly didn't want sex, and that was all I'd ever been traded for my whole life. There had to be something about me that was useful to him, or why would he bother coming all the way to Vegas.

My palms felt sweaty, nausea rising to my throat with each bump and pot hole the car drove over.

"Hey? What's wrong?" Killian leaned in taking my hand in his.

My head shook, heart racing. Would he sell me? Was I some kind of gift for a friend? The possibilities were endless, and him refusing to touch me sexually took away my single chance at security.

"Ella if there's something wrong you have to tell me right now." That sounded like a command. Disobedience wasn't exactly an option, not in my place.

The lump in my throat made talking nearly impossible, but the words found their way out regardless. And while the regret is instant, so is the relief when when the question escaped me.

"Why did you buy me?"

"Why did you buy me?"

The question was soft, unsure and shaky, but it might as well have been a punch to the gut.

My eyes locked with Ruth's in the rear view mirror, she looked away immediately, shrugging like this was my problem only. Though technically, it was.

"I wanted you." My reply was vain and shallow, but it would have to do.

"But you didn't fuck me last night. Did I do something wrong?" The innocence in her voice was choking, like a rope wrapped around my throat.

"You didn't....don't do that again. That's not why I took you." The car window rolled down, the streets of Chicago flying by in a blur, the calm breeze hitting my face.

"But, that's what I'm for."

"And that's not why I took you." My knuckles paled from how hard my fist clenched. She leaned back, like she was trying to fade or blend into the leather seat of the car.

Her eyes were fixed on my clenched fists, glassy and somewhat wide. "I'm not going to hit you, Ariella." The pain of my nails digging into my palm gave way to relief when my fist unclenched.

The car drove to a halt at the entrance of the estate. A tall golden gate stood, connected to the concrete wall that went around the white, illuminated mansion where my whole life was based. Even through the gates the sound of the angel fountain that stood right infront of the golden steps attatched to the front door still rang in my ears

The gates parted, giving way for the car to drive in. Ariella was still pressed firmly into the seat when the car parked, sitting still and staring at her palms even after me and Ruth stepped out of the car.

Moving to the other side of the car, my hand closed around the handle of the door, pulling it open. She startled, looking up at me. "Come out, we're here."

She stepped out of the car keeping her head down. A warm hand wrapped around my wrist. She held it firmly, like it was a lifeline for her.

The guards pulled open the ivory front doors as we climbed the few steps to them. Ariella loosened from my side with every guard we approached. The tension never left her body and she didn't release my hand, but at least we were getting somewhere.

As soon as we were in though, the shrill shriek that greeted us though sent Ariella right back to the trembling being she'd been last night.

My head raised to the direction of the voice at the top of the spiral twin stairways that stood in the end of the waiting room, plain otherwise for the exotic paintings that hung from the white walls. My mother raced down, her gaze fixed on Ariella. Towards the bottom of the stairs she nearly slipped, her heels bent on the brown polished tiles, tangling into her silk red maxi dress. She barely managed to catch herself on the golden railings.

"Mother, stop running. You'll hurt yourself." My voice felt tight.

Her grey eyes glistened with unshed tears, ignoring me she approached Ariella. The girl was still pressed into me, peaking slightly at my mother. It would have been cute if it wasn't already so fucking heart breaking.

"Is this...really her?" Her voice shook, fingers trembling as they cupped Ariella's cheek gently. "Ella? It's really you." Her

"She's still in shock. We're not sure if it's her, but we'll take her to the hospital tomorrow, and make sure." Ruth chirped, eyeing me with her lips pursed.

"Is that even necessary?" My mother finally broke, pulling Ariella into a hug and running her fingers through her hair.

"I'm sorry. Did I do something wrong? I didn't mean to make you cry. Please, I'm sorry." Ariella's eyes were wide, her hand squeezing my wrist slightly.

"Oh, my little girl. What did they do to you?" Mother sniffled, holding her tighter. "It's ok. It's all over now. Let's get you settled."

"Where's dad?" His absence shouldn't have been a surprise to me. To think he would have jumped at the chance to see his possible missing daughter was just wishful.

"Your father had something to handle on short notice. Perhaps I should place a call to him? Let him know of your arrival." Ruth said, already reaching for her phone.

"Have the maids bring her things to the room we prepared. The one opposite mine." My eyes still hadn't left my mother hugging Ariella.

The words she'd said to me before I went to Vegas still rung in my head. 'If there's even the slightest chance that my little girl is alive, is living in some filthy brothel, you bring her back home to me. Bring her back and destroy the people who took her.'

As Ruth walked out giving orders to the maids, my mother finally released Ariella, using her fingers to brush her hair, her eyes raised to mine, smiling shakily. "Thank you. Thank you so much, Killian."

An ache built in my chest. My mother hadn't given me that much recognition since Stella went missing. The one bond we still shared apart from blood had been our obsession with finding Stella. And now there was a chance that it was gone.

My mother led her to the twin stairs, taking the one on the right to the bedrooms. Ruth shuffled back to my side, holding an old green backpack.

"That's all her stuff?" Not exactly shocking at this point.

"Yes sir. We can get her some clothes after we confirm she's truly miss Morozcov."

My eyebrows drew together into a frown. "We'll get her something regardless of the outcome. Give me the bag." Ruth's lips parted as she handed me the bag. The memory of my mother's relieved, overjoyed face echoed in my mind. "I need to go upstairs to check on them. Tomorrow's test...whatever the results are, let's just keep it to us, ok?"

"Sir, with all due respect, what are you asking me to do?" She eyed me warily.

"I'm saying that if she really isn't Stella, that information stays between us, not a soul more. Am I understood, Ruth?"

"I won't say a word to anyone boss." She said, stepping away from me. "Not a soul."