“Beg me to lick you, malysh.” There was no way in hell I’d beg him. But that was until his finger slid into my pussy, stretching me at a deliciously slow curl. “Please.” I whimpered, trembling. “Say it like you mean it, baby.” “Lick me, please,” I panted. It was hard not to with the way his finger was curling inside me, hitting my g-spot repeatedly. °•°•°• Do you crave men who dominate every room they walk into? Men who won’t hesitate to destroy anyone who dares threaten what’s theirs? Men as lethal as they are possessive, yet drop to their knees for the one woman who sets their cold hearts on fire? Meet the Kings of the Bratva—ruthless, dangerous, and utterly unstoppable. From brutal assassins to stolen brides, these stories will drag you into a world of forbidden love, raw passion, and unrelenting danger. Arranged marriages, deadly betrayals, and second chances that will shatter your soul—these men live by their own rules, and their women? They’re the ones bold enough to break them. Love isn’t soft here—it’s a war, a fire that consumes everything in its path. These men will fight, kill, and burn for the ones they claim. The Kings of the Bratva don’t just promise passion—they deliver obsession. Are you ready to meet them?
View More<Blurb>
He’s the ruthless king of the New York Bratva. She’s a lethal assassin sent to end him.
He rules with blood-stained hands and an unforgiving heart.
She’s fueled by vengeance, trained to strike without mercy.
He’s untouchable.
She’s the chaos he never saw coming.
He’s her target.
She’s his obsession.
Their worlds collide in a storm of blood, betrayal, and forbidden desire.
When enemies become lovers, the line between passion and destruction blurs.
Will their fire consume them—or will they burn the world down together?
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Chapter 1: Busted
[Enora] “You’ll be dead in two minutes.” The man, whose time of death I’d just pronounced, pulled his face from a stripper’s cleavage and looked at me with eyes full of disgust, as the disco lights flashed green, red, and blue on him. “Who the fuck are you?” he asked, his Russian accent thick. “Me?” I smiled, because I thought it was only fair for a soon-to-be corpse to be surrounded by cheerful faces. “Enora, but some call me Portatore di morte.” (Bringer of death). His eyes widened, fear coating his features at the name. “Morte?!” “Some call me that too,” I nodded, glancing at my black watch. “You’ll be dead in thirty seconds.” He shoved the stripper aside, causing her to crash into another clubber. “Suka!”(Bitch!) he roared, jumping to his feet. He reached for something in his pocket when a loud bang silenced the room. Warm liquid splattered on my face, and a body hit the floor. The club erupted in chaos as people scrambled to flee. But this wasn’t a normal crime scene—it was a mafia war. The body would vanish in minutes. I looked down at him, his dark eyes wide open as blood leaked from the bullet hole in his forehead. “Rest in peace.” I didn’t need his name, only his face. It somehow made the burden of taking so many lives—or at least, delivering the news of one’s death to them—easier. And to be honest, none of the people I’d delivered their deaths to since I was fourteen were innocent. Most were traffickers, drug dealers, rapists, and murderers. They all deserved it in one way or another. I wasn’t much different from them either. This is the world I was born into, where shedding human blood was no different from slaughtering animals during Thanksgiving. A world where I was nothing but the bringer of death, seducer of men, and someday, a bargaining prospect for my papa, Carlos Patrizio. He was the bloodthirsty leader of the Italian crime family in New York, and I was his only daughter. I took a bottle of whiskey off the table beside this man’s lifeless body, poured myself a shot, and said a silent prayer for his soul. Another bang came from outside. I gulped my shot, enjoying the burning sensation as it trailed down my throat. “Enora!” I heard Ricco, my father’s right-hand man, call out to me. There was urgency in his voice, and with the repeated screams and gunshots outside, things were about to get messy. I poured another shot of whiskey, made the sign of the cross, and shut the man’s eyes. Then I turned—and froze. Piercing blue eyes locked onto me, sharp and murderous. My breath hitched. Nikolai Lantsov stood just twelve steps away, his dark scowl cutting through the air like a blade. Both his hands rested casually in his pockets, but the threat in his gaze was unmistakable. His height was intimidating from afar, and I was certain he would tower over me if we stood close. My eyes strayed to his chest, then to his shoulders. He was so muscular it made me wonder if he was really forty-two. And his face—there was no way I could forget it, the face of my family’s sworn enemy. I hadn’t met him before, but my papa had several pictures of him in his office. He had appeared on the news several times for his famous whiskey brand—the one I drank three minutes ago. He was also famous for having the largest clubs in New York. A laugh almost escaped my lips because only those born in this world knew Nikolai Lantsov for who he really was; dark, evil, vile, and a bloodsucker. Not very different from my father and me. I pulled out my Glock from where it was strapped between my thighs, being sensual to distract Nikolai while keeping my gaze steady on him. A wicked smirk found its way to my lips as I raised the metal, pointing it at Nikolai. One of his guys entered just then, removing his own gun and pointing it at me, but dropped it when Nikolai raised a dismissive hand with a slight smirk. Was he daring me? What the fuck was he thinking? That I wouldn’t have the balls to shoot him? I cocked my gun to warn him, but that only had a negative effect as he started toward me. My hand started quivering, my gun suddenly felt too heavy to carry. Cold blood rushed to my brain, and I could hear the drumming of my pulse in my ears with every step he took as he closed the distance between us. This isn’t good. Why wasn’t I pulling the trigger? His presence was intimidating, his dark aura possessing everything around him, including me. My legs itched to pace backward as he neared me, but I forced myself not to move an inch away. There was no way I’d let him see the effect he had on me. Fuck, I hated how the presence of this ruthless crime lord was affecting me. My father would spit curses to the devil if he had any idea how much of a failure I was right now. I hadn’t finished handling the turmoil in my head when my gun came in contact with a certain hardness. The only thing between me and Nikolai right now was my stretched arm and the .45 it was holding. Nikolai’s jaw twitched. His eyes had flames in them, and I could see the veins in his neck swell. “What is it, malysh?” (little one?) His voice was terribly thick with a Russian accent to spice it up—just like the man whose blood splattered on me minutes ago—only, the man’s voice had no spice that made my blood rush. What the hell was I thinking? I was standing in front of the most notorious mafia boss in New York, yet I was thinking of spice and deep-voice-effects. Get a hold of yourself, Enora. “I’ll shoot you if you fucking move one more time.” I meant it, and although I’d rather never have blood directly on my hands, it was better to kill than to be killed. And knowing the men in our gruesome world, death would be mercy after being kidnapped, drugged, and fucked without your consent several times. And from everything I’d heard, a man like Nikolai Lantsov could do a lot more than that. He opened his mouth as if to say something but was interrupted when someone shot in our direction, missing bursting his brains by only an inch. We both ducked. I looked in the direction of the shooter and saw it was Ricco. Nikolai attempted to take something out from his suit vest. I kicked his hand and tried to make a run for it, but strong warm hands gripped my legs. Panic set in, I tried to kick him with my other leg, but he gripped it too, dragging me to himself with such speed that my Glock fell out of my hand. Ricco and the other guys stopped shooting when they saw I’d been captured. Nikolai’s hand wrapped me steadily to himself. This wasn’t the moment, but the warmness of his body was ridding me of my senses. His earthy scent filled my nose; my brain started to dissect the ingredients his perfume was made of. Sandalwood, patchouli, and rosewood. “Let the girl go,” Ricco’s grumpy voice demanded. He was a large, tall guy with a fittingly large muscular belly and curly raven hair. “Pochemu ya dolzhen?” (Why should I?) Nikolai asked. His voice possessed a calmness that sent chills down my spine. “You’re the ones who crossed my territory.” “Take me, let the girl go.” “No!” I shook my head at Ricco. “Don’t—” “You are mine now, malysh (Little one),” Nikolai growled. “You do not speak unless I ask you to.” His grip tightened on my neck. “Drop your weapon,” he ordered, eyes on Ricco. I shook my head again, notifying Ricco not to drop his weapon. He looked hesitant for a while before stretching his gun out on the floor. “Good. Now, who do you work for, malysh? Patrizio?” “I haven’t heard of that name before,” I lied. My father had once said it was best to be discrete in an attack like this. In his own words, it didn’t matter if I was dying, as long as it was not an open war between the two mafia families in New York. I’d rather die in the attack than betray him. There was no mercy for anyone who did that, even if that person was his daughter. “Do understand, milyy(darling). I cannot let both of you walk out here alive.” Nothing in the world could have prepared me for what happened next. There was no warning, no bang. But there was a thud, and there was blood, spreading on Ricco’s chest, and life faded away from his face. I’d always thought Ricco was immortal, just like my father and the devil who had his arms wrapped firmly around my neck. I wanted to scream, shout, but it felt as if watching Ricco’s blood paint the ground seeped away every ounce of energy I had left. “Keep this in mind, malysh,” Nikolai said in a rough tone. “The next time I see you will be the day you die.” I nodded, holding back tears that were meant for Ricco, and making my own promise to Nikolai. ‘The next time I see you will be the day you die, Nikolai’When a ruthless Bratva king wins a poker game with more than just money on the table, he walks away with a living, breathing trophy—a girl too young, too defiant, and far too tempting to let go.She wanted revenge. He gave her captivity.Now, locked in his estate with no escape and no allies, she’s forced to play a new kind of game, one where the stakes are her freedom, her body, and the very heart she swore she’d never give away.He says she’s unripe. Untouched. That he’ll mold her into the perfect Bratva wife. She hates his arrogance, his icy control, his ability to make her tremble with just a look.But hate is a dangerous game to play...especially when desire blurs the lines.He owns her now. The question is—will she break free, or beg to stay?
Hey my loves!I’m beyond grateful for each of you who came along for this ride with Roman and Aria! But don’t get too comfortable, because Book Four is coming up fast and it’s going to be amazing! I can’t wait for you to dive back in!Please let me know what you think so far–I’m always excited to hear your thoughts!💕
- AriaThe bookstore was bustling with people the moment it opened for the evening, and a long line went out the door.The cozy store on the corner lit up the dark street with its warm light, and that fuzzy feeling in my chest was something I had looked forward to since I was a child.Nestled toward the back of the store in bookcases and boxes upon boxes of my own work, I sat, Sharpie in hand while I smiled for my readers.At one point in my life, I never thought I’d be able to say that—my readers. Never thought I’d have the chance to follow my dreams and just write.But stacks of my novel sat next to me while each person approached my pop-up table with their copies.Roman had put Lyra and Enora in charge of organizing the signing and launch party, but it was no secret that Valentin had his input taken into consideration too.String lights twinkled above my head to make the evening feel even more special. Paired with the free hot drinks and food, the rush of energy in the air, and the
- RomanMy leg wouldn’t stop shaking from my place in the waiting room chair, nerves completely frayed.I intended on being in the delivery room with Aria, but after seeing her in pain without being able to do anything about it, slicked it sweat and wincing, I’d flushed.The doctor’s attention shifted to me not far into it, and she told me to take a walk. Not wanting to disobey a good doc’s orders, I complied and walked out.I didn’t want to admit to anyone that the thought of witnessing the bloody scene that was to come made me feel woozy, but once the chance to take a break from it arose, I took it.Yet it didn’t make me feel any better about it.I should be in there with her, I thought to myself, fighting a silent battle.I was no stranger to blood or gore. In fact, I had seen the worst of the worst while working, yet it seemed completely brand new to me today.Head in my hands, I closed my eyes and tried to pull myself together.“Couldn’t handle it?”Lifting my head, I found Valen
AriaA pleasant haze consumed me as Roman continued to dote on me, taking the time to carefully wash my hair and free me of that grimy feeling. He even rubbed my neck and shoulders, releasing all the tension left there. His touch was like magic and exactly what I needed.I didn’t realize how tense I had been until all the knots were worked out, and I sat more relaxed in the tub.With my long, even breaths, I felt better than I had in quite some time, in complete awe of Roman and his care. It was like he wanted to make up for lost time, and I didn’t mind one bit.“I could get used to this,” I sighed, eyes closed as he returned his hands to my neck and didn’t let up.He chuckled quietly from behind me. “Don’t worry, massages will be an often occurrence. You say the word and I’ll get to it, or I could hire someone to set up a massage table for you.”Both sounded incredibly perfect. I hummed, “Don’t tempt me.”“Whatever you need. Whatever you want, it will be yours,” Roman promised, dipp
Aria It felt like having a rock in my gut to finally put that ultimatum on the table, but I knew it needed to be done. I couldn’t sit around and pretend like this baby didn’t exist. Like it wasn’t a critical conversation we needed to have.Roman paused his scrubbing and leaned against the tub, ensuring our eye contact was held. His tone was genuine. “I know that I didn’t react how I should’ve, but I won’t miss out on a second of raising our child. You shouldn’t have to face this difficult thing alone. In fact, you don’t need to return to work or your old life. As long as you let me, I’ll stand with you and this baby until my last breath. I will take care of you both.”My heart swelled at his words, feeling a sort of relief that I hadn’t known in some time. Tears ran down my cheeks as I was overwhelmed by his sincerity.Roman reached out and wiped a tear away with his thumb. He smiled warmly. “I tried so hard to not fall for you. The first time I saw you, I knew it would be nearly imp
- AriaI never thought I'd miss Roman's house as much as I did until I ended up in that cold basement.The relief I felt upon returning was immense, despite how exhausted I was.I couldn't believe I had been kidnapped again. How had I somehow managed to get caught in the middle of it all? It wasn't ideal, and it certainly wasn't how I had hoped the night would go.But Roman had found me. He risked his life to get me back, and while it didn't fix everything, it was a start.Shaking even as we walked into the warm house, I couldn't seem to get the chill out of my bones.Roman noticed at once, expression riddled with concern. Instead of making me walk another step, he scooped me up in his arms and held me against his chest."Don't worry about anything, I'll draw you a bath."Lacking the energy to fight or say otherwise, I relaxed in his hold, cheek pressed against his warmth.We went down the hall and up the stairs until we reached his master bedroom, to my surprise. I was placed on the
Roman He paused, pretending as if he were giving it some consideration. He sucked in air through his teeth. “No, I don’t think I will. We both know that would never work.”He wasn’t as stupid as I initially thought. He was right, it would never work. Hence why he wasn’t going to make it out of that basement."We wouldn't be in this standoff if you hadn't walked into our house with your guns drawn," Marco said, expression souring. "For full transparency, you were supposed to wait until we moved her. Until I got my answers and had a little fun. But you just couldn't wait. Why are you the only one who gets to bed your captive? God certainly has His favorites."I clenched the gun in my grasp, losing my patience. "And you can't be killed soon enough."Marco laughed at that, relaxing the blade before securing it against Aria's neck again. She flinched. "You're just mad that I managed to pull off what you failed to do. Teresa had been practically waiting to get abducted. It was the perfect
- RomanMy gun was aimed at Marco while Dimitri had his pressed against Sal's head, a warning to Marco that his father's life was on the line and that we would waste no time ending it.With his knife pressed against Aria's throat, we were at a standstill.Marco laughed to himself, starting with a low chuckle that built into a full one, amused by it all.It made my blood boil.Aria closed her eyes despite her tears, trying not to move, should she force the blade closer to her skin by accident.Seeing her there, under his mercy, was my worst nightmare. She was innocent to our world, having only exposed herself to it through her novels. Through her passions. Yet, she found herself in the position that no woman in the mafia world wanted to be in. To the Espositos, her capture was nothing more than a tactic to get us to comply, a means of having something over my head. But to me, her being taken meant everything. Her safety meant even more.I hated imagining how scared she was to be taken
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