CHAPTER 3: ARIELLA

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 thought 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 when the memory of my reaction when the jet hit turbulence in the air 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 fourth 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 and 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?"