While things are going great, people forget I exist, but the second hell breaks loose, my number is the one they call. It sucks. Just once, I'd like to be a priority in someone's life. I'd like to be taken into consideration. I want my voice to be heard. But that's never going to happen. I'm the forgettable one. Always have been. Always will be. Wanting to feel like I'm a priority for one night, I take matters into my own hands and book a date through The Perfect Gentleman's service. I figure if I'm going to pay for the date, the guy will be forced to give me the attention I've always craved.

It's not a regular party, but instead, my wedding. To Angelo Rizzo. A coldhearted man who's feared by all. Including me. Turns out my stepbrother owes the Cosa Nostra money, and I'm being used to repay his debt to Angelo Rizzo. Do I have a choice? No. Not when it comes to matters concerning the Cosa Nostra. Three hours later, I have a new shiny wedding ring on my finger and a husband I'm terrified of standing by my side. Yep, my life just took a turn for the worse.

Not only is my boyfriend dead, but he left me with a sizable loan in my name to a mafia boss. When Dimitri Federov, a handsome, loaded Russian playboy, appears on my doorstep, I panic. He wants money to repay the debt. Money I don't have. The prick offers me a solution—pay with my body. I turn him down flat, but the indecent proposal remains in my thoughts, forever reminding me of what could have been…

Of two things I'm certain: When something sounds too good to be true, it is; and when Alexius Del Rossa makes you a deal, you run far away and never look back. Me? I didn't run. I stayed. I opened that envelope, and I accepted his offer. Why? Because my life was a mess and on a downward spiral to a big, fat nothing. And he just offered me everything in exchange for six months of my life. It was supposed to be a simple arrangement, but I learned the hard way that nothing is simple when it comes to Alexius.

Our first meeting was at a nightclub, and it was something straight out of my most romantic fantasies. My ovaries exploded at the sight of the Russian God. And by God, I mean he was ripped, tall, dark, and deadly attractive. There were enough sparks between us to light up a city. Then an explosion blasted through the nightclub, and we got trapped together for three hours, sharing our most personal details...everything but our names. Two years later, our second meeting is the complete opposite of the first. It's clear Misha Petrov, a Russian enforcer for the bratva, despises me.