Sometimes I have sticky fingers. Funny how pricey things tend to get glued to them. An item here, a handful of diamonds there. I take them, and then I keep them. Like a dragon with her hoard that no man can touch. Except … that isn’t completely true. One man can. My captor, my jailor, the one person who I can’t stop fantasizing about even though he keeps me locked away. He took everything from me. So, I’m taking it back from him piece by piece. But when he reveals the twisted path to my freedom, will I walk down it alone or accept that my obsession isn’t wealth at all, it’s him?