His Price Was My Children
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Summary
Five years after I walked out on Damon Kincaid, I saw him again at an auction.
The difference was, I was the merchandise, caged for public scorn. He was the high-roller, seated in the VIP section, ready to spend a fortune.
We played the part of strangers.
It wasn’t until some rich bastard bid fifty thousand dollars to buy me that Damon shattered the iron cage, grabbed my chin, and snarled:
“You’d rather be a cheap piece of trash than come back and beg me?”
“Anya Rossi, you truly are despicable.”
I tore his hand from my jaw and offered a smile that didn't reach my eyes.
