There’s a bunch of clothes hanging on the inside. All women’s, and all dresses that remind me a little of the outfit I saw Angela in the first time I met her. Floaty materials, soft silhouettes, and pale pastel colors. The kind of clothes you dress dolls in. Feminine and dainty and somehow nauseating.
And so many of them. Why would any one woman need…?
My stomach twists when the truth hits me. They’re not for any “one” woman. They’re for dozens. Hundreds. As many women as Ravil and Adrian and the men who work for them can get their hands on.
I snatch the dress closest to me and turn to Ravil in disgust. “You’re a f*****g monster!”
He seems amused by my fury. “Why is that? Because I have good taste?”
“The curtains behind you would beg to differ.”
His smile stays in place, but it becom
