I am the illegitimate son. Unwanted. Hated. The jealous, possessive villain who once wore the mask of a hero. Ophelia Hart is the girl next door. Growing up, I rescued her countless times from my idiot half-brother. Now, the rivalry between him and me has changed. The stakes are higher. And Ophelia is in danger. But I’ll be damned if I let him touch her. She no longer thinks me the hero of her story, though. She’ll fight me. I’ll fight for her.

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.

When she was young, Arya Roth became best friends with her housekeeper’s son. Soon, friendship turned to young love, and when Arya dared him to kiss her, a chain reaction of disastrous events led to the boy being sent away and out of Arya’s life. Now, two decades later, Arya is an on-the-rise publicist with her beloved father as one of her biggest clients. So when her father is sued by a former employee, Arya sets out to prove that her father is not the monster he is accused of being. The only problem is the attorney who is determined to destroy her father’s good name. 

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.

When the Wildbloods presented their daughters to me on the night of the Tithing, they knew what was to come for the chosen girl. The crescent moon that marked Willow made her mine. I had no choice but to take her. Destiny determined our fates long before we were born, laying our roles out for us. A sacrifice would be made. A tithe paid. Only then would our families be free, at least until the next payment came due.