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yearning in her eyes that begged to belong, to be close to someone.
    Sexually he forced himself not to touch her. He wanted to, but somehow he felt it wouldn’t be right. In a way he was afraid. This was strange, as Sergei had never been afraid of anything .
    Every day he tried to persuade her to speak. She steadfastly refused .
    When he had to go out to work, leaving her alone in the room, he sternly instructed her that under no circumstances was she to answer the door .
    She nodded her head.
    “One of these days you will say something to me, yes?” he asked her in the Russian language they shared.
    She nodded again.
    “I can be patient,” he said.
    He thought about all the whores he’d screwed, all the women who’d passed through his life. He thought about his stepmother, who’d forced him to have sex with her when he was twelve. His stepmother’s best friend had also used him for her own pleasure. And then a procession of women all shapes, sizes and ages. Those women he’d used for his own benefit.
    Sergei had developed a tough exterior. He’d had to.
    After two nights of sleeping on the chair, he decided it was okay to move into the bed next to her.
    She immediately shied away from him, those sad eyes of hers filled with fear.
    “I will not touch you,” he promised. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
    He turned his back to her and slept fitfully.
    Early in the morning she leaned over and whispered in his ear. “My name is Anya.”
    “Oh,” he said, startled. “You can talk.”
    “Thank you,” she murmured. “Thank you for your kindness.”
    The girl was thanking him. Nobody had ever thanked him before. He was filled with a strange feeling.
    Now he could never hand her over to Greedy Boris. It wouldn’t be the right thing to do.
    Meanwhile, Greedy Boris was on his case. “Is this all you bring me?” Greedy Boris screamed, eyes bulging with fury, fat arms waving in the air. “Two sisters who aren’t worth shit, and a ratty girl with bad teeth. Go back to the refugee camp and get me more girls. There must be plenty of pussy. Get it for me and bring it here.”
    Greedy Boris’s clientele was not of the highest caliber. Mostly they were married workmen who came by at all times of the day, stayed five or ten minutes and went on their way. Greedy Boris worked his girls hard; sometimes they were forced to service fifteen or sixteen clients a day.
    Sergei did not want this fate for Anya. His Anya. His little bird. For in his heart he knew they were destined to be together.
    One day he decided they had to make an escape from the ravaged war-torn city. They had to get away from Greedy Boris and everything he represented.
    It was time for them to run.

Chapter Five
    “H i,” Cameron said, when Don Verona flung open his front door. “I’m Cameron Paradise, Jill Khoner set this up. You must be Don Verona.”
    “Whew!” he exclaimed, slowly checking her out. He saw a tall natural blonde in a white tracksuit with long legs and intoxicating green eyes. “Jill told me you were a beauty, but I wasn’t expecting perfection.”
    “Not only is he famous,” Cameron murmured, tongue-in-cheek, “but he has the corny lines to go with it.”
    Don threw her a quizzical look as Butch came bounding over, making a fast run for her crotch. The dog excitedly stuck his nose between her legs and began sniffing.
    “Easy, boy,” Don said, pulling back on Butch’s collar. “Sorry about that.”
    “Don’t worry,” Cameron said, bending to scratch Butch’s neck. “I have Labs of my own. They’re overly friendly, but that’s cool.”
    “You have a Labrador?”
    “Two,” she said, as Butch started licking her hand. “They’re incredibly loyal dogs.”
    “They sure are,” he said, taking a step back. “So–Miz Paradise–you’d better come in.”
    She entered his immaculate house.
    “Paradise is quite a name,” he remarked. “Where did you make that one up?”
    “Actually, it’s my mother’s maiden