<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’[Nikolai]I have no issue killing women for one reason: my enemies have no gender. But no woman had ever had the balls to point a damn gun at me—until now. This tiny woman standing in front of me with her ass pressing against my dick was the first one. And she hadn’t just pointed a gun; she’d dared to try and kick me in the balls. The thought sent adrenaline through my veins as I tightened my arms around her small neck, threatening to squeeze the life out of her if she moved the wrong way. Her white hair reeked of strawberry and lavender, masking the stench of alcohol, death, and nitroglycerin. I wrapped the length of it twice in my hands, yanking her head back painfully. She stiffened, her trembling legs betraying the fear she tried to hide. I wondered if she was cursing me or swearing to kill me. Not that it mattered. The chances of me fucking her life out of her were far greater than her taking mine. “Go, malysh (Little one),” I whispered hoarsely in her ear. “Tell him
[Enora]Nikolai Lantsov was killable, and that was all I needed to know. He was like every other egotistical man in the mafia world, looking down on women and feeling impenetrable. Too bad his death would be at the hands of a woman—me.I’d probably thank him before I killed him; I’d always hated my long hair because my papa had a weird obsession with it. When drunk, he’d call me Isabella. Was that my mother’s name? If he loved her, why ensure I had nothing to remember her by?Nikolai’s pale blue eyes and large frame filled my mind. I’d sworn never to get blood on my own hands, but if it meant ridding New York of a tyrant, I’d have a blood bath. My father was just as bad, but I couldn’t kill him—not yet. First, I’d use his power to destroy Nikolai. Ricco’s death confirmed Nikolai wasn’t immortal. Loyal to papa for 27 years, Ricco deserved more than a simple *okay* before papa sent me a second job: a mother and her son, Pedro. As the breeze carried the scent of roses, I imagined a
[Enora]The laughter from the foyer was poison to my ears. Papa had told me he’d signed me off like property, but not who my soon-to-be husband was.I glanced at the ice bucket arranged with unopened whiskey, swallowing my saliva to keep from grabbing a bottle and gulping it down. I was curious—desperate—to meet my new owner. Knowing Papa, I’d be surprised if my groom was a prospect, but the deep, old voice from the foyer suggested otherwise.A whirlwind swept my thoughts to Nikolai. Not that I liked him—he was forty-two, almost twice my age. Yet, with dark gelled hair and toned muscles beneath his suit, he didn’t look his age.My God, what was I thinking?The voices drew closer, spiders creeping up my spine. My jaw dropped as Mario Luigi, Papa’s underboss, entered. Older than Papa by six years, he even had a son ten years my senior. Maybe I’d marry the son, not him.“Enora,” Papa called. Mario kissed my hand disgustingly. “You’re just as beautiful as always,” he said, eyes on my
[Nikolai]The first thing I noticed was the way the tips of her hair made contact with her shoulder. Most men liked women with long hair, but I liked mine to be distinct—short hair with smoky eyes was my kink. And that was exactly how she looked when she walked into my club, fearlessly.Enora Patrizio didn’t strike me as a woman who would be stupid enough to walk into a den of vipers, so there could be only two reasons she would do so.One: this was a fucking trap, probably set up by Carlos Patrizio.Two: she was actually stupid.I preferred to go with the first option because the second wasn’t only very unlikely, but it was safer never to underestimate your enemies. And as it seemed, I had more enemies than friends.Our gazes were locked on each other, hers cautious, mine observing. Her gray eyes glittered something sad in the disco lights, her lashes were wet, her black mascara smeared beneath her eyes. She looked nothing like she did when I first met her a week ago. I supposed th
Enora paused when she reached the couch and spun to face me. “It’s nothing.” She sat down and stared at the walls that were the color of her eyes. I knew she was lying by the way she avoided my gaze.“Do not lie to me, malysh.” My voice was harsh with rage and this strange thirst for blood—blood of the one who hurt her. I stood from my swivel chair, went to her, and dragged her up from the cushion before examining her back. Red and purple lines crossed each other countless times, and the skin around them was crimson, darker than red.I ran my finger on them, causing goosebumps to appear on her skin. “Who did this to you, malysh?” I asked again, hearing the roar in my voice.Enora swallowed. “It’s nothing.” It was something, and it all made sense. Her entering my territory even after I’d threatened to kill her the next time we meet, her bare feet, her pale face, and misty eyes.“Listen, malysh.” I tilted her chin up and peered straight into her gray eyes. “The day I find out who di
ENORATonight, I made a deal with the devil against my will, and I had a feeling it would cost me my life.When I walked into the Lantsov club an hour ago, I had no idea what the heck I was doing or why I was even there. But after I met Nikolai, an idea flashed through my brain. Killing two birds with one stone, that’s exactly what I was going to do.I was between two devils I needed to destroy: my papa and Nikolai. Nikolai was notorious and ruthless, so I’d heard, but he appeared a saint compared to my papa. For instance, my papa would have shot me on sight if I’d launched an attack on his club, but Nikolai didn’t.I’d use him to bring my papa down since I’d rather not have his blood in my hands. Then I’d kill Nikolai and burn this fucking underworld to the ground—it didn’t matter if I burned along with it.The problem was, Nikolai wanted me to marry him, and I would rot six feet under before I dared to marry someone like him. “You’re crazy.”His lips curled into a crooked smile,
ENORAI’d never thought heaven would smell like cigarettes and alcohol, unless of course I wasn’t in heaven. I was in hell.I tried to flick my eyes open, but they felt too heavy, as if they weren’t my own. I could hear voices in the background, thick masculine voices that spoke Russian. I should have taken my Russian classes more seriously than I did, but that was a regret for another day.A wet towel dabbed my neck, and that was when one of my eyes gave in, briefly allowing me to open it for two seconds. A blurred face was close to mine, I couldn’t make out the color of his eyes, but I could feel them touch my face curiously before I heard him mutter something I couldn’t make out in Russian. I knew who it was as soon as I heard his voice. Nikolai.My eyes closed and darkness took over.Cold soft hands were rubbing something on my back when I woke up again. I was laying on my stomach with my back facing the ceiling, cuddling the unfamiliar bed I lay on. It was cozy, warmer than t
ENORANikolai left the room and returned with a pile of neatly folded clothes, all black and white. “Wear these.”Are those his clothes? They smelt just like him. Was I going to wear Nikolai-freaking-Lantsov’s clothes? I was getting more excited than I needed to be—which was probably zero excitement because who gets excited just wearing their captor’s clothes?“Will these do?”“I will manage with them for now,” I replied as I unfolded them, seeing that they were all designer clothes, just the way I liked my clothes to be. Turned out Nikolai and I had something in common other than the New York dark underworld we were both involved in.Nikolai leaned on the wall, watching me as I put on a pair of black baggy shorts and an oversized sleeveless shirt from the pile he brought in. “You didn’t thank me, malysh.”Truth, I hadn’t even had time to address the way he called me “malysh.” I was not a child, especially not his, and I hated how he somehow had fun calling me that. “I suppose you kn
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