He won’t tell me his last name, and maybe that should throw up a thousand red flags, but when I’m all alone in a new city and struggling to make ends meet, his texts are the lifeline I’ve been desperate for. I never would have answered that text if I’d known that Lincoln Daniels—superstar hockey player extraordinaire—was the one sending it. He’s trying to sweep me off my feet now. He says he’s obsessed. He wants me to wear his number…permanently. But is he still the wrong number, or can this hockey god prove he’s Mr. Right?

He was the talented bad boy everyone wanted. I was the irrelevant geek everyone hated. He was the sun...drawing all of us in. I was a black hole...taking up space. He was destined to be a star. I was destined to remain an insignificant no one. Until he made me believe I was special...and then he destroyed me. I never thought I'd see Phoenix Walker again after he broke my heart, but fate had other plans. One tour. Eight weeks. Forty shows. Countless opportunities to make him pay. The world thought he was a god...but I know the truth.

The average song is three and a half minutes long; those three and a half minutes could lead to a slow blink, a glimpse of the past, or catapult the soul into heart-shattering nostalgia. At the height of my career, I had the life I wanted, the life I’d always envisioned. I’d found my tempo, my rhythm. Then I received a phone call that left me off key. You see, my favorite songs had a way of playing simultaneously. I was in love with one man’s beats and another’s lyrics. But when it came to the soundtrack of a life, how could anyone choose a favorite song? 

Monsters don't hide in dark alleys. They lurk in plain sight, clawing into your soul with cordial smiles. They wear Armani, they drive Cadillacs, they attend fundraising balls... And they rule the city with a merciless fist. The Familia is a mystery to most, and sitting on its throne is Kage Malvagio. Vile. Sadistic. Painstakingly beautiful. Some say: Ask for forgiveness, never permission. Kage asks for neither—especially when he gets his hands on me. I should hate him. I should run at the first chance I get. But how could the devil be so bad when he looks at me like that?

Charming, captivating, seductive—and a cold-blooded killer. I married the Pakhan of the Russian Bratva anyway. I had to, it was part of the deal. Now, I’m faking marital bliss as I tremble with fear, and I cannot wait to be out of the clutches of this ruthless man.