Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
I was married to her sister—a woman who died in the crossfire of my Russian mafia world.
To her, I'm nothing but a monster with blood-stained hands.
She doesn't see they're the same hands keeping her alive.
She's fled from me repeatedly, each escape bringing her closer to the enemies hunting us both.
The hatred burning in her eyes only matches the forbidden heat igniting between us.
The rival bratva won't stop until she's eliminated.
My solution? Make her mine—a marriage placing her untouchably under my protection.
She fights me at every turn, fierce and beautiful in her rage, blaming me for her sister's death and her shattered life.
She can't know the truth, that her sister's death wasn't collateral damage but punishment for betrayal.
As danger closes in, I'm torn between my vow and the desperate hunger that consumes me whenever she's near.
When an ambush leaves her bleeding in my arms, everything changes.
This marriage isn't negotiable anymore.
She'll wear my ring and bear my name.
She'll be mine, even if I have to break her to keep her.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
MARINA
The moment I saw him, my world crashed around me.
Konstantine. My brother-in-law…and my sister’s killer.
The diner’s fluorescent lights flickered, casting a dull glow over red leather booths and the cracked linoleum floor, but all I could see was him from where I stood staring through the crack between the two kitchen doors.
Sitting at the farthest table, back to the wall, piercing blue eyes scanning the room like a predator assessing his surroundings.
My stomach twisted, bile rising in my throat.
I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
How?
I had been so careful.
No credit cards.
No social media.
I’d stayed in my lane, kept my head down, worked this dead-end job just to survive.
And yet, he was here.
He had found me.
Panic clawed at my chest, but I fought to keep my expression neutral. The last thing I needed was to alert the rest of the staff there was an issue. They would ask questions I couldn’t answer. My fingers clenched into fists, my nails digging into my palms, the slight pain grounding me as I abandoned my post at the kitchen doors and returned to the plate of fries I no longer wanted.
“Oh my God, Marina! He is so freaking hot!”
Anna’s shriek made me flinch, bringing me back to the moment.
I snapped my gaze to her as she pushed through the kitchen doors, a whirlwind of neon-pink nails and endless energy weaving past the cooks.
She didn’t know.
She didn’t understand that the man she was ogling was the reason my sister was dead.
I forced a fry into her hand, hoping the simple act would shut her up and give me a second to think. But Anna was relentless, bouncing with excitement.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she demanded, taking a seat across from me at the tiny break table. “I mean, Marina, seriously, why didn’t you tell me you were dating the hottest man in Chicago?”
“I’m not,” I said automatically, barely registering her words.
My heart was pounding so hard I thought it might crack my ribs.
Anna scoffed. “Then why did he ask for your section?”
She grabbed my wrist and yanked me up before I could protest, dragging me toward the doors leading to the dining area. “Girl, if you’re not dating him, can I have him? Because that man is sex on a stick. I tried everything—flirty eyes, lip biting, even the cleavage lean, and he didn’t even blink. He only wanted you.”
I barely heard her.
My vision tunneled as I peered through the crack between the doors.
He hadn’t changed.
Konstantine Nikolai Ivanov, Kostya to his friends, of which there were few, still looked devastatingly handsome in that cold, lethal way that made people both fear and respect him.
Broad shoulders, sharp jaw, dark hair just long enough for a woman to sink her fingers into. He had been intimidating even before he married my sister, before he became a name whispered in the dark corners of Russia.
And now he was here.
For me.
Anna’s voice broke through my spiral. “So, who is that? Does he have a brother?”
“He does,” I murmured, my throat dry as dust. “Two. But they’re not your type.”
“Damn.” She sighed, oblivious to the way my body was locked up in sheer terror. “So he’s yours, then?”
“No,” I whispered. “He’s my brother-in-law.”
Anna blinked. “Wait, what? You never told me you had a sister who was married to a freaking Russian god.”
I swallowed hard. My hands trembled at my sides, but I kept my face carefully blank. “She’s dead.”
“Oh,” Anna said, her enthusiasm temporarily dimming. “Car accident?”
I forced myself to nod. “Something like that.”
The words tasted like acid.
I couldn’t say it, not out loud.
That he had killed her.
That my sister’s blood was on his hands.
That if I didn’t leave right now, mine would be too.
Anna kept talking, something about how a man like that had to be ready to move on. But I couldn’t hear her anymore.
All I heard was the blood rushing in my ears.
I had to get the hell out of here.
He hadn’t seen me yet.
That was the only advantage I had.
If I ran now, I might have a chance.
But I needed a distraction.
Forcing my lips into what I hoped was a convincing smile, I turned to Anna. “Actually, do me a favor? Go talk to him for me. Tell him I haven’t come in for my shift yet. Get his drink order, maybe flirt a little.”
Anna’s eyes lit up. “Girl, you do not have to ask me twice.” She fluffed her hair, adjusted her bra, and strutted out into the dining room.
The moment she had his attention, I turned and bolted.
I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to Babushka, the owner, who had been so kind to me.
It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was getting out before Konstantine saw me.
Because if he did…I was dead.
CHAPTER 2
KONSTANTINE
Six months earlier
Veronika's blood stained my hands.
It pooled beneath her, a crimson tide creeping across the marble, violating the pristine white of her dress. The metallic scent of it burned my nostrils, a sickening reminder of my failure. Her ragged breathing scraped through the silence, each desperate exhale weaker than the last, a death rattle counting down the seconds.