Frieda’s POV"Harder, Michael, harder please."I hated saying those words. They felt dirty, but they were the secret code I had to use. They were the fastest way to get everything done. Michael C. Van Leer never needed me to tell him to be rough. He only knew how to take.He moved into me with the same hard, boring push that our marriage always had. He was breathing fast and hot. I could smell the expensive brandy he always drank.I kept my eyes focused on the white ceiling. I looked for one tiny mistake in the smooth plaster. I stared at that little crack, pretending my mind was millions of miles away. My body was here, held down by Michael's huge money and his belief that I belonged to him. But the real me, Frieda R. Enriquez, was nowhere to be found.It was always quick, just a business deal. No gentle touches, no kisses. Just cold need from him, and cold obedience from me. I was his prize. I was his perfectly quiet wife, and the second he finished, the heavy pressure was gone. He
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