IF ZELDA had really wanted to date a racing car driver who talked about nothing but himself and his cars, she soon found that it would be very easy to do so. The hard part was getting away from him. He was handsome enough, and he knew it. He also thought he was macho and exciting, and perhaps he was, but that didn’t interest Zelda. All she really wanted to know now was that she still had her appeal, and so she was making a trial run in her hotel’s rooftop bar after dinner that night. It had taken the man less time than it took the barman to pour her a glass of white wine to settle next to her and start a conversation. It had taken her slightly longer to get rid of him, but he got the message eventually and wandered off to survey the other pickings.

For some reason, the whole setup reminded her of her time in Paris. In luxury, many might say. She had a spacious apartment not too far from the Champs-Élysées, where she did her “entertaining.” She didn’t even have to seek men; they were sent to her. Many were considerate and tender, even cultivated and interesting, unlike those she had known in the cheap brothels and sex clubs of Eastern Europe.

But she was still a whore. And she was still a prisoner.

She had no family, so they couldn’t force her into working for them with threats to hurt loved ones. Nor did she owe them money. But Darius made it perfectly clear that if she cheated him or ran out on him, he would find her—he had the means to do so—and would personally supervise her dismemberment. While she was still alive. She was also accompanied by two “bodyguards” when she went shopping, or whenever she took a meal break in the local brasserie. Whatever money she made—and she had no idea how much it was—went to the organization. Darius had bought her at a “sale” in Sarajevo: an auction, where she and the other “lots” had been forced to parade in a kind of sick catwalk, first scantily clad, then naked, while prospective buyers lined up to feel the firmness of their breasts and the tightness of their vaginas. In certain cases, a free trial might be approved, though she was fortunate in avoiding that. She soon discovered that Darius was repelled by women and would no sooner touch one of the girls than he would a rabid dog. Though she was never sure, she was fairly certain that he preferred men.