Life had never been a crystal stair for Faith. Most people would call bullshit to that statement. She was the only daughter to an oil-rich smooth-talking, compassionate pastor and an almost acclaimed starlet mother. A red luxury convertible was her first car at the age of sixteen. She had more stamps in her passport than most adults before her fifteenth year and had never stepped foot on a plane accompanied by people that hadn't been invited to tag along. Her credit cards were limitless and so were her problems.

'Mo money. Mo problems.' Faith knew Kelly Price's chorusing was accurate. Being a member of the Trillion didn't eradicate struggle from her life. Her dad was suffering from Parkinson's, her mother was a shrew that cut her off and she presently was being held against her will in a mansion housed with priceless antiques. Problems no amount of money could relinquish her from.

But at least she was out of the bedroom. A week in the simple box of four walls, a bed, dresser, and no tv was enough to drive a sane person mad. Good thing she wasn't all the way stable. At least, she didn't think she was. She knew she had a crazy bone in her somewhere. Of course, she had. She'd killed two men; if she wasn't crazy she was mildly imbalanced. Then again who would be after all the things she'd been through.

"Bon appetit," The boy proclaimed sitting the plate in front of her. "Quali in a pomegranate sauce with brown sugar glazed red potatoes and roasted parmesan green beans." He stepped back with a proud grin as he turned his eyes to the man at the other end of the table.

Faith snared down at the food. The gold plate matched the navy tablecloth and her stomach churned at the delectable entree and sides. She was starving. The breakfast of poached eggs that made her gag and dry butterless toast that scratched her throat left her stomach on empty. However, there was no way she was going to let the little scoundrel know her mouth was watering.

"I'm not eating this shit." She turned her nose up at the food that probably wasn't seasoned properly. The last meal he prepared for her too much salt and now enough spices. "And brown sugar on potatoes. I don't like sweet food. Nor do I eat poultry that isn't turkey, chicken, or duck." She pushed the plate away shifting her eyes to the man on the other side of the table. "I'm a 'wings and beer' chick."

The Collector's  mouth quirked up as he sliced into the bird. "You're not some common whore with boy shorts and a tank top. Don't behave as such."

"Excuse me." Faith seethed folding her arms. She didn't feel like herself in the simple champagne slip dress that bore no name of an exclusive designer with her curling, product-free hair brushed make into a ponytail held together with a gold barrette. The lack of jewelry didn't help nor were the words that he hurled at her. She had never been called a whore by anyone other than her mother.

The Collector's ebony eyes snaked its way towards her as he chewed the slice of meat he slipped into his mouth. The periwinkle suit fit his brawny body perfectly. He was handsome personify with a strong jawline, lips, and skin that begged to be touched. He could've been someone she would've dated if it wasn't for the whole kidnapping thing. Oh, yeah...and calling her out of her name.

He gave The Boy a nod that was so subtle it could go unnoticed if the boy didn't scurry away like a scared puppy that lost its bladder on the new carpet.

Faith caught his shadow then turned back to her dinner companion. "I'm not a whore." She steeled sight. "I like sex. That's not a crime."

"You have the vernacular of a sailor. It's unbecoming of a young lady of your status and speaks poorly of your vocabulary."

"I don't need to waste the abundance of my eloquently immense phraseology on you and your peasant when bastard and dipshit encompasses all the fibers of your being adequately." She smiled smugly sitting back in the cushionless wood chair.

He emitted a deep chuckle sitting down his utensils. "Beauty and a fierce personality. That's why I picked you." His chuckle left a twisted grin in its wake. "My Rare Bird."

"I'm nothing to you."

"You're everything to me." He bit back, the nip in his voice birthed a chill through her shoulders. "Priceless."

"That I am." She nodded confidently. "But I'm not a doll to be stored away in your little cumulation. I'm not an acquisition. I'm a human and slavery is abolished, a fact we both celebrate. I'm not staying here...with you."

His smile grew than faded. "They aren't coming for you, darling. That pesky little boy, Alexander is in his own dreadful predicament and Isabeth...do you really think she's trying to help you. No..." He shook his head. "She's not going to pick you over the capture of her heart."

Her nostrils flared as she breathed in quick breaths. Doubt formed at the bass of her mind where it hadn't been before. She was clueless about the happenings outside the mansion. All she had was hope. Hope that they would be coming for her.

"I'll repeat it one more time." He collected his utensils in his grasp. "You're all mine. To do as I see fit." He lowered his eyes and sliced into the quail. "Now, eat before I lose my temper and you do not want to see my wrath. You will not enjoy it."

She couldn't stand the burning anymore. She had to let them go. Let the tears glide down her cheeks and roll down her chin. She took the fork in her hand and the knife in her other contemplating using them on something other than poultry.

"I'll choke you unconscious before the tip of the knife touches my skin." He hissed.

Faith stabbed the knife in the quail then stuck the fork into the stack of green beans, the only thing on her plate that appeased her. "I've been choked before."

She had and she lived. What was one more time? But now what's that time. Not yet. If she was on her own, she had to play smart. So, she thought, what would Alex do?

He'd study the man, learn all about him and analyze his ways.

What would Isabeth do?

She'd act the part like the actress she was with grace and sincerity.

Faith smiled to herself as she chewed the green bean that wasn't al dente. "Delicious."

Will thinking like her friends help Faith get out of this calamitous predicament or will she revert to her old tricks?