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."

The lady was crazy. As soon she escorted me into this room, all doubt of her sanity vanished. She was insane.

That was the only logical explanation for the woman currently gesturing hysterically at the decor of the room.

"So do you like it?" Her smile seemed so out of place on her pale face, her eyes stained with runny mascara and her tears. The purpose of her crying still eluded me.

Taking in the beautiful room, from the Queen sized bed filled with enough pillows to build a palace, to the human sized windows that occupied the wall opposite the front door with a red seat attatched to one. Everything was beautiful. "Ma'am I think you..."

The bronze door pushed open, interrupting me as Killian strode in, holding my tattered backpack which ruined his look with his crisp suit hugging his muscular frame perfectly. "Don't overwhelm her mum. She doesn't need to know the origin of every ornament in this room."

The woman, Killian mum apparently, chuckled. "I'm just so excited. It'll be dark soon, but I just want to stay here forever."

She moved forward, and my waist pressed into the wooden, honey colored chest of drawers from the instinctive step back.

"She's definitely tired after that trip. I know you're excited mum, but maybe we should get her settled first?" The echo of his steps faded once he stepped onto the plush wine rug that took up the majority of the floor, towards his mum.

"Oh, how foolish of me. You must be starving, let me go and check if the chefs are done cooking." She rushed towards the door, leaving me alone with Killian.

My eyes roamed him, searching for any sign that he was angry or about to harm me in any way. It was inevitable, but it didn't hurt any more to be prepared.

Rather than raging at me for leaving him for his mom though, he placed his hands behind his back, stepping forward, eyes locked to mine. "There's something important I need to discuss with you. Preferably after mother has calmed down."

"Um..did I do something wrong, sir?" Whatever it was, if he couldn't discuss it infront of his mom then it had to be bad.

"No, you haven't done anything. And I've told you, don't call me sir." He pressed two fingers to his temple, sighing deeply.

"Sorry sir..er, I mean Killian. Mr Killian? Mr Morozcov?"

"Killian is fine. Listen I_"

His mother's high pitched voice cut him off, ringing in my ears like a Chinese gong as she stepped in. "Ella dear, I'm not sure what you like now but when Killian told me you were coming I had the chefs make a bit of everything."

"Mother we'll join you soon, I just need to speak with her for a moment."

"You've had hours to do so. Whatever you want to discuss can wait." She cupped my cheeks, then scrunched her nose like my scent mimicked that of a decaying rat. "Preferably you should clean up first, while the maids set the table."

"Ok." She ignored my respose, glancing at Killian instead.

"You should get cleaned up too. Go downstairs when you're done. I'm going to help her get cleaned up."

Killian nodded, frowning slightly as he left the room. That wasn't exactly an unusual sight, in the short time since we met, smiling was a rarity for him.

"The bathroom's over there, I'm going to get you something you wear. Leave your dress in the basket by the door." She pointed to a bronze painted door a few feet from the chest of drawers. She hesitated a bit before releasing my hand, then she was gone.

This whole family was weird, but that lady was exceptional. She kept acting like her was her long lost daughter or something. And how she knew my name was beyond me, after all even Killian had asked when he took me from the brothel last night.

The bathroom door pushed open as my hand turned the knob. The interior was quite similar to the bathroom in the hotel, only clearly more expensive and maintained.

The yellow sundress fell of my frame, followed by my underwear and sandals, leaving me entirely bare. Goosebumps rose on my skin when the warm water of the shower made contact with it.

My questions seemed to have doubled since we got here. Mrs Morozcov's reaction my arrival only fueled my confusion. Her son brought home a literal prostitute. Not exactly a mother's dream surprise.

Perhaps she didn't know, but still, killian had to have told her something.

Every logic seemed to only result to more questions, and zero answers.

Ten minutes and a hot shower later, my feet brushed against the rectangular shaped rug in front of the bathroom door.

Mrs Morozcov was already there, sitting on the duvet of the queen sized bed. "You're done?"

Nodding, my eyes drifted to a beautiful navy blue, knee lenght dress laying next to her.

"OK, I'll just leave you to get dressed then." She smiled her eyes welling up with tears once again. "I still can't believe Killian brought you home."

"What?"

"Even after all these years, he made sure to bring my daughter back." She pulled me into a tight hug. "I know it's been so long, but I promise the men who did this will suffer. And you'll never have to worry about a thing again, Stella."

The clicking of her heels already faded out of the room and down the hall before her words sink in, and the questions doubled.

"Did she just call me her daughter?" Saying it out loud only led to another head pounding question.

Who the hell was Stella?