His Perfect Doll

He stole me from outside my dance studio. He says I'm his doll. He says I'll never leave. Mila Ivanova is nineteen, a rising ballerina, and invisible. Then a black car pulls up and a man with grey eyes and a billionaire's suit takes me. Andrei Volkov is forty-four. He's not a kidnapper. He's a collector. And I'm his latest acquisition. He gives me a suite with a ballet barre and silk dresses. He watches me dance every night. He never touches me. He says I remind him of someone he lost. I try to escape. Twice. The second time, he lets me go. I make it three blocks before I realise I can't leave him. Not because I'm afraid. Because he's the first person who's ever seen me. When his enemies come for him, I hide. When he catches the man who burned his family alive, I'm the one who pulls the trigger. I'm not his doll anymore. I'm his partner.