Cold.So much cold.It seeps through my scanty, torn shirt and burns through my skin, chilling my nerves and bloodstream. It makes my bones ache and my teeth chatter with a resilient rhythm. I lie on the concrete floor, my hair hanging in dark, frozen icicles down my stiff face. I can barely blink my eyes. My sixteen year old, once powerful frame rattles helplessly, in time with the depressing sounds of ice drops that fall against the tiny window of my cell. Winter in Russia is horrible. Winter in a Russian prison is a total nightmare. The cold makes you numb. Your lips, limbs and even eyelashes become completely numb.This is not the conventional Russian prison, mind you. It is more like an illegal cell facility, established by the Russian crime syndicate, the Bratva. Here, petty crimes and big crimes are punished in equal measure, no matter the age of the offender.In the cell next to mine, a ten year old boy is held—for stealing a loaf of bread from the local markets under Brat
CHAPTER ONE…CAPO'S POWERNew YorkTen Years Later…Everyone have different ways of dealing with grief. Some bawl their eyes out. Some shed crocodile tears. Others go into deep depression.Few people show no emotion. Even if the pain threatens to claw its way through their insides and make itself known, they show no emotion.And I am "few people". I watch as his coffin is being lowered into the hard, unforgiving Earth.My father.My mentor.My anchor. For the past ten years, he and Ricardo have been the only constants in my life. It feels like I've always looked up to him my entire life. Hell, I was practically always glued to his side. But it all ended too soon. Way too soon.We had ten years together. Ten very short years. I thought he was invincible. He had undoubtedly shown me over the past few years of our time together that he was the hardest man to kill. But he did not see it coming. No one did. The bullet hit him square on the head, completely shattering his skull struc
London"Father's been acting strange all week."Yulia pauses the smooth motion of the brush she's been running through my hair and meets my worried gaze in the mirror."How do you mean?"I huff."Oh, don't act like you haven't noticed. He's always looking worried. He barely eats, sweats alot and he does not even look me in the eye when he's talking to me anymore."I run my fingers through the smooth surface of my dresser."Something's definitely wrong, Yulia. And from the looks of it, it's bad."I stare at Yulia earnestly through the mirror, willing her to agree with me.She purses her lips for a while, contemplating my words."Well, you're right about one thing. Something's not right."I heave a sigh of relief. Atleast I've not been imagining things."Want to go snooping?"Yulia's already wide eyes widens even more. She has such beautiful eyes.Yulia is just drop dead beautiful, full stop. Sometimes I wonder how she ended up as my personal maid."What exactly would you gain from that
New YorkThey say it is often difficult to find somebody that shares your pain. Somebody that shares your desires, and in my case, somebody that shares my want for vengeance.I guess I'm just lucky to have that one person, my best friend and closest confidant, Ricardo.I know this mission is as important to him as it is to me. Romanov had personally seen to it that Ricardo and I were tortured and starved during our days in prison.All the horrendous things he'd done to us flashes through my mind and I can swear Ricardo knows what I'm thinking because his eyes darken with pain...and fury, his fingers clenching tightly over the leather of the Italian sofa.I sit back in my chair, letting his news sink in. I'm shocked, extremely so, but the deviant gleam in my best friend's eyes tells me that Ricardo is not playing around.He sloshes the remnants of his beer in the nearly empty bottle, his calculative blue gaze sharp with focus.I lean in on the opaque, glass table, finally finding my v
New YorkI get to my feet and walk down to the bank of floor to ceiling windows that give my office a magnificent view of Central Park."We're not up against an ordinary enemy here. Romanov is smart... too smart, I must say."Ricardo begins tapping a foot against the marble floors."That is where you come in, boss. You will marry Romanov's daughter in place of Ramsey Mikhailov. But for that to happen, we need a foolproof plan.""It would be easier if you were up against just one enemy." Thelma says quietly.Ricardo and I turn to her."Excuse me?" I ask. Thelma sighs."Romanov is not a strong enough opponent compared to his Personal Assistant and Chief Adviser."Her eyes darken with contempt,"That man is pure evil. He's the brain power behind most of Romanov's best, well laid plans. Richard Smollett. The demon in a suit."I eye her thoughtfully,"Smollett. Now why does that name sound so familiar?" Ricardo asks"Because it is."Ricardo gives me a sharp look from across the room."How
LondonDarkness. Total darkness.That's the feeling you get when your life is coming to a complete end.All I feel is a soul crushing dark void.A void that threatens to swallow me whole.Ever since Dad told me — commanded me, to marry Ramsey Mikhailov, a wet blanket has fallen over my world. I've dreamt of freedom for as long as I can remember. Dad promised me my freedom by the time I turn twenty. I've dreamt of walking barefoot on an open beach, travelling, seeing new places — meeting new people. Now all those dreams seem so far away. In another life. I looked up Ramsey Mikhailov after Dad and his two faced P.A. roused me from my fainting feat and explained to me that getting married to this total stranger is my best option — my only option, if I want to stay alive. But just like the Blackstone guy, there's no information on him on the net. Nothing. Nada. I do not even know what he looks like and I'm getting married to this man in two days.The preparations for the wedding are b
London."That was him, wasn't it?"Ricardo's low voice intrudes in my thoughts as he comes around to stand beside me. I remain silent, gazing intently at the exit, willing the blue eyed goddess that just disappeared through to make another stunning entrance.Fuck!I've had my share of beautiful women but no one rivals the effortless beauty of this dark haired siren. No one even comes close. She looks like a little fucking temptress in that dress. A temptress I would love spread eagle on my bed – bare assed naked.Her blue eyes sparkle brighter than the famous blue diamond itself. Eyes so expressive, I know she's probably dissecting my personality right about now. I shut my eyes briefly, recalling that split moment when I took notice of her. She had come down from the fancy car just as we drove into the garage. She stood out almost immediately. Like a fucking beacon in the midst of the garage's drab background.Through the tinted windows of my Aston Martin, my eyes feasted on her plump
LondonHow do people describe arousal?Some say it's the heady, sexual tension they feel when they're really into the opposite sex…or same sex. It really doesn't matter.Others describe it as the delicious stimulation they get when special attention is being paid to their most private organs.Arousal, to me, are the mind numbing spasms that rock my body when I turn slightly to find a particularly intense gray gaze fixed on me. Arousal is this desperate and rather illogical need to strip him of that suit and feed his butt-naked form to my greedy eyes.The prickly sensation in my neck intensifies. I'm being watched alright. By a certain devilishly handsome Greek god. My heart begins a crazy gallop against my chest and I grip the table tight, willing my enraged heartbeat to slow down. He's seated a few tables away, with the same handsome gentleman that spoke with him earlier. He twirls the remnants of wine in his glass with lean fingers, his fingers rubbing against his lips in that knee
CHAPTER 29I beat harshly against Luca, trying to escape his crushing, though gentle grip."Put me down, you brute!" I squeal.He pauses for a while, looking down at me with what resembles amusement."Suit yourself, my pet."He lets go and I tumble, landing arse first on the marble floor."Ow!""C'mon. You wanted to walk on your own. We're almost there so get up, lazy ass."I shoot him a stinging glare, praying to the heavens for the power to reduce him to ashes where he stands. I ignore his outstretched hand and get to my feet on my own. Determined to prove to Luca that I can make it on my own, I take the first step. Everything feels okay. I mean, I don't feel faint or anything.I take the second and third step. Without warning, a hand pushes against my back and I stumble, crashing to floor in a tangle of legs and feet.I shut my eyes tight, waiting for the pain to register. It never comes. Instead, I feel warm, almost snug.My eyes shoot open to find Luca's smoky gray ones fixed
NEW YORK When I told Luca I felt like death yesterday, I didn't even know what feeling like death meant.But right now, I feel like I would much rather prefer to be buried six feet under than continue to battle with this excruciating pain.My fever came back with a vengeance after I had taken a brief nap. By five in the morning, I woke up and Luca was gone. I am still refusing to acknowledge the pang of disappointment I felt when I woke and he wasn't there. Or the way I felt so safe, so protected in his arms last night. My mind is playing games with me again. That must be it.I woke up and could barely move. My body temperature had sky rocketed and I burned all over. My entire body hurt and it felt like a jack hammer was being powered through my skull.I do not remember ringing the bell for Luca to come to me, but I remember thinking about it. In the next five seconds, he barged in, eyes already wide and alert like he'd been awake for a long time.Long story short, the good doctor
NEW YORKAfter a brief talk with the guards I had stationed outside the door which reveals that there's been no sound or suspicious movement from Skylar's room for the past few hours, I become even more worried.It's not like the little Russian minx to go a full hour without causing some kind of trouble, talk more of four while hours.I push open the double doors and walk into the darkened room. The heavy draperies have been pulled shut, obstructing any form of night light from filtering in. The bedside lamp and all other room lights are turned off, too. I pause for a moment, trying to adjust to the pitch blackness. When I'm still unable to really make out anything, I whip out my phone and put on the flash light.I switch on the bedside lamp and my gaze lands on the lump underneath the duvet."Go away." She mumbles.I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God she's okay… Or is she?My eyes narrow as I notice the slight movements of the lump.Fuck! She's shivering.I rush to her bedside and
NEW YORKI slam the door shut, ignoring the treacherous part of my heart that feels like I have just let something precious slip from my fingers. I clench my palm to numb the rage. Skylar has pointedly refused to come to terms with the fact that there's no escaping me and I must admit, it's becoming quite frustrating.My heart sinks with the realization that she's right. I might never win her over by keeping her locked up in a fifty feet tall, glass cage. But hell if I'm ready to have that conversation with myself. Other men gently woo their ladies. Other men shower their women with soft, unconditional love. Not me though. I know what I want and I go after it like an unhinged, wild bull.Skylar will just have to accept me the way I am – the brute, the devil, and maybe, just maybe, her worst nightmare.I will never sing her serenades and throw flowers at her feet. I will never give her slow dances by the fireplace or whisper sweet nothings in her ear, but I am ready to devote the p
NEW YORK.I have read novels where the heroine describes her hero's kiss as mind numbing and Earth moving. I've even read books where the sensual touching of lips to lips moves a woman to tears. I have imagined what it would feel like to wrap my arms around a man I want and surrender to his warm, gentle touch.But nothing prepares me for the electricity that shoots up my spine when this man's lips meet mine. Nothing prepares me for the dizzying, heady feeling that accompanies his brutal taking.He's not soft. His lips on mine cannot even be classified as gentle, but it is exactly what I need. His hands sink into my hair and he angles my head to meet his urgent, seeking lips. His mouth brands me, his tongue sets my body on fire. He is harsh and brutal in his taking, smashing his lips on mine like he can never get enough.And me?I grip onto the front of his starched shirt, hanging on for dear life. I am supposed to be kicking and screaming, running away from him, but once again, my bo
NEW YORKI am exhausted.I collapse on the downy, four poster bed with a strained huff. I have single handedly searched every nook and cranny of this luxurious room for a way out, but I've only met frustratingly disappointing dead ends.The windows have been nailed shut from the outside. I even tried the minuscule bathroom window, but that is sealed as well. I almost laugh out loud when I remember the little mental breakdown I suffered in the bathroom. I ended up screaming the whole place down. I remember hitting and smashing things, but my memories are blurring again. Now that I think about it, I might be in a bit of trouble with Luca for destroying his billion dollar bathroom.Not that it wouldn't serve him right. I am a prisoner here, his captive. If he does not release me to Dad per my request, I might just end up making life extremely miserable for him. Starting with destroying his most prized possessions. I may have smashed a Gucci perfume worth ten thousand dollars, but no har
NEW YORK."Have you killed her yet?"I push open the doors to my office to find Ricardo sitting in one of the visitors' chairs, completing a jigsaw puzzle. From years of knowing him, I know he has chosen the most difficult colour combinations. He says it keeps him grounded…keeps him sane, and I totally understand that. In a world like ours, constantly filled with blood, chaos and pain, we all need an anchor, even if it's a damn puzzle, otherwise we might end up going crazy.For years, that achor has been Ricardo. Now, I have the feeling that might change soon, because a certain gutsy, fiery, little temptress makes me feel more sane than I have in years. Shit is so terrifying."No. She's still alive, and I'm keeping it that way."Ricardo finally shifts his attention from the almost completed puzzle and turns to me. His features are etched in a strange expression. He almost looks…unsure, and Ricardo has never looked less than confident."Why? The plan was to kill her at the wedding."
NEW YORK"You called out my name in your sleep."My gritty eyes fly open. Those roughly muttered words succeed in completely banishing the darkness that threatened to suffocate me. My blurry gaze meets the smooth, glass ceiling of the room. The world won't stop spinning. Everything looks and feels strange, and my memories are a blank, empty space.All I remember is a deafening, mind numbing ringing in my ears and smoke…so much smoke. Where is this place? Even brain fried and disoriented, I realise that this sure as hell doesn't look anything like my room back at the mansion. It feels cold. There's a formal, stiff air about it. My head feels like it has been stuffed with wads of cotton wool. God, my throat hurts.I try to move my hand then freeze when something tugs at my wrist. With a pained gasp, I turn my head slowly to the side. It take a minute to recognize the IV machine beside me. The see through bag which contains a colorless liquid is almost empty. The fog of confusion that
LONDON"Help me."Those words, softly spoken, but laced with so much fear it sends an arrow straight through my heart. I pause with the realization that I've never seen Cheyenne – Skylar, scared. Angry, raging, furious, protective but never scared.As Romanov's men take her away from the halls…away from me, my heart lurches at how downright defeated she looks. Mikhailov, that half blooded fucker, I will deal with him later. Right now, I have to stop his dumbass men from getting Skylar to that airstrip. If she gets on that Russian bound plane, I might never see her again. My insides turn to ice at the thought. No. That can never happen.Rage, hot and venomous, roars through my veins. I fucking looked for her. She is all that has been on my mind for the past few hours. Then I finally find her and some fucker thinks he can take her away from me.Skylar Romanov is mine. She was always destined to be mine. If Mikhailov's men successfully get her on that damned aircraft, I will shoot it