Eleven years ago, I met him. A year later, I was betrothed to him. Now he’s come to claim me, slaughtering anyone standing in his way. My husband-to-be is a monster from a family as ruthless and powerful as mine, a man who deals in violence and destruction...a man terrifyingly like my father. For more than a decade, he’s stalked me, shadowing my life. I fear him. I hate him. Worst of all, I want him. My name is Alina Molotova, and Alexei Leonov is a fate I can’t escape.

My enemy had seen me naked. He was holding the proof right before my eyes, and my stomach lurched sickeningly. "Seems like you had too much to drink last night," he remarked in that condescending tone he always used with me. I looked up at him as he stood watching me from the doorway with his attitude of superiority. In that moment of weakness, I actually tried to plead with him. "Please. I've never done anything to you." "Begging me on your knees. That's a good start."

Forgive me. Those were the first words Santos Augustine spoke to me before we sealed an unbreakable oath. A contract signed in blood binding me to him as payment for my father’s sins. Wearing the mask of legitimacy, this powerful crime family has returned to Avarice to punish those who have wronged them and take what they’ve always been denied, a place among the elite. Forced to marry my enemy, I’m thrust into his world of secrets and betrayals. My husband is a dangerous man. And he has dangerous enemies. But it’s when I’m attacked that his fury is unleashed.

I've got a thing for men who work with their hands. I thought I learned my lesson years ago. But here I am, back in the small town I grew up in, staring down at the man who broke my heart years ago. I intended to tell him off. My plan was to flip him the bird and prove to both of us that he hadn't ruined me. I sure as hell wasn't going to sleep with him. Until he tells me he's sorry. Until he gives me that smoldering look I still dream about. Until he whispers just beneath the shell of my ear.

I watched him in high school; I knew his reputation. I knew he was wealthy, privileged, and mean. He ran the show back then, a partier and a player. Then he came back from college, back to the town I never left. He’s different now. He comes into the bar, and I know his routine. I know which stool he’ll pick. I know his favorite drink. I know which sports team he’ll want on the television screen. And I watch as he gets hit on. Sometimes he leaves the bar with a woman. Sometimes he doesn’t. But I’m always there, tending to his drinks. He gives me a smile and a polite nod back.