Breathing on the skin

I looked at him with a prayer, as at the last drop of water in the arid desert and the only hope of salvation, and tears flowed down my cheeks with large beads.
I whispered with my lips: "Spas ... pro ..."
He looked at me. Not a single emotion is an empty and cold look. Absolute indifference. Not a single vein trembled on his sleeve of a billionaire.
Six years ago, a terrible accident took my family and a voice from me. Until adulthood, I lived in a shelter, and then they sold me into slavery, like a soulless thing. I thought that I was doomed and I could never break out of eternal captivity. Until I met him. Dmitry Orlov. During the auction, he bought me and saved me from the vile Arab. What is waiting for me now? A happy future with a man of dreams or another slavery?