It was an innocent mistake; she knocked on the wrong door. It was mine. If I were a better man, I would've just let her go. But I'm not. I'm a cruel bastard. I ruthlessly claimed her virtue for my own. It should've been enough but it wasn't. I needed more...I craved it. She became my obsession. Her sweetness and purity taunted my dark soul. The need to possess her nearly drove me mad. A Russian arms dealer had no business pursuing a naive librarian student. She didn't belong in my world. I would bring her only pain. But it was too late...she was mine and I was keeping her.

Being attracted to her isn't wrong…but acting on it would be. As the patriarch of the powerful and wealthy Cavalieri family, my choices come with consequences for everyone around me. The roots of my ancestral, billionaire-dollar winery stretch deep into the rich Italian soil, as does our legacy of ruthlessness and scandal. It isn't the fact she is half my age that makes her off-limits. Nothing is off-limits for me. A wounded bird caught in a trap not of her own making, she poses no risk to me. My obsessive desire to possess her is the real problem—for both of us.

Had she crashed into any other man's car, she could have walked away—but she hit mine. Upon seeing the bruises on her wrist, I struggled to contain my rage. Despite her objections, I refused to allow her to leave. Whoever hurt this innocent beauty would pay dearly. As a Russian Mafia crime boss who owns Chicago's most elite gambling club, I have very creative and painful methods of exacting revenge.

For weeks, I've been watching her. Stalking her. Now, it's time to start playing with my beautiful little pawn. From the moment I first saw her from afar, I knew she would become my prized possession. I will gaslight her into thinking she is my obedient ward, trapped in the Victorian era. She is my unwilling captive, forced to play my sadistic game for her own survival.  She will have no choice but to bow to my rules and discipline. In time, her memories of a modern life will fade.  If not, she will pay a painful price.

Tall, rugged, and focused on destroying my family, Brody O'Connor's the one person I need to avoid. He seduced me on purpose, and now I’m paying the consequences.

When Nikolai Romanov came looking for my brother, I emptied my savings hoping I could pay off his debt. But I didn't have even close to enough, so the bastard decided to take me instead. I didn't expect a Russian mafia boss like him to be gentle with me...and he wasn't. Not when he spanked me for daring to wear panties under the dress he chose for me, and certainly not when he stripped me out of that same dress and made me scream in his bed.

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.

D'Artagnan Conti was born into poverty, raised to be a soldier in my father's savage regime. I grew up in luxury, longing to escape my family's cruel machinations, and the young man with sapphire eyes and the voice of an angel became not just my forbidden crush but my everything. Then he was taken from me, killed in a brutal attack by our enemies. Or so I was led to believe....

Rule number one of Wall Street: don’t fall in love with your billionaire boss. I hate my boss. The Wall Street tycoon is a jerk. A world-class alpha-hole. Devastatingly handsome but terribly flawed. He goes through assistants like I go through vanilla lattes, and I need this job. But I went to school with bullies like him, so I’m not afraid. I hate my attraction to him. How sparks fly when we spar. The way he barks orders and dresses me down. I hate how I fantasize about him during and after work hours.

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.