Description
Out of the darkest evil will come the strongest love.
The Bratva is changing, but whenever there's change, there's resistance. I have to prove I’m one of them or else I’m dead.
I wasn’t prepared for what they wanted. They gave me a young and beautiful woman, to defile and break.
With a gun to my head, it's not like I have a choice.
I've never met a woman like her. Damaged, just like me, but with a clever mind that she knows is a dangerous weapon, and curves for days. Every second I spend with her, it becomes less about business, less about the darkness I'm trying to leave behind, and more her. About us, against the world.
We're going to rise above the shadows the Bratva have cast on us.
They made a dangerous mistake. They bound her to me in a way that those monsters could never comprehend. She has a part of my soul now, and I have a part of hers. Soulmates, in a way.
I'm a bad man, but I'm going to do right by her. I'm going to prove to her that even in the darkness, there's always something worth fighting for.
I’ll kill them all for her. When it’s all over, and she doesn’t need me for revenge anymore, we won't be able to walk away from our love. She’s been taken by the hitman, and I won’t let her go.
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Teaser…
My heart races as my dad says, “I did what I was told. I got her here. Your guy is gonna hold up his end of the bargain, right? I need to be sure before I let my baby girl go.”
“What?” I burst out, pushing away from him. I feel sick to my stomach. What the hell does he mean, let me go?
Underneath his flippant attitude and the veil of drunkenness, there is a twinge of pain in my father’s eyes, and I know this is for real. This is not a joke. He is giving me away. But in what way?
One man steps forward from the group and looks me up and down with a critical expression. “I would have expected you to present her in a more, ah, appealing manner,” husks the man in a cruel voice. There’s a heavy Russian accent coloring his words.
“You sayin’ my girl ain’t pretty enough?” my dad says, bristling defensively.
“No, no, she is sufficient. But even a diamond may not shine if it is covered with dirt,” the man quips, clearly referring to the dowdy, shapeless flannel shirt that hangs down nearly to my knees.
“Oh, you mean the clothes? Well, this is really the best we got,” Dad remarks, shrugging. Then he reaches over and nudges me. “Take off that shirt, Peanut. Show ‘em what’s underneath.”
I stare at him, slack-jawed, for a long moment. I cannot believe what he’s asking of me. This has to be some kind of nightmare that I will wake up from any minute now. I know my father is a drunken, useless son of a bitch, but I never expected him to do something like this.
“Now, Rosalie!” he orders, taking an aggressive step toward me. I shrink away and immediately start to obey, unbuttoning my flannel shirt with shaking hands and letting it fall to the ground so that I’m standing before this group of strangers in my tight black leggings and threadbare sports bra. The leader of the group purses his lips and nods in apparent approval.
“She will certainly do,” he appraises, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Nice doing business with you, Mister Barnes. Now, get the hell out.”
“My debts are paid off?” my father asks.
The man rolls his eyes, regarding him with pure disgust. “Yes. In full. Leave.”
“You got it,” Dad replies, with a flourish and a bow. He gives me a nod as he turns to leave, his final words to me falling limply from his mouth: “Be good, Peanut. Daddy’s sorry.”
“No!” I shout, running after him as he disappears up the stairs to the top deck. But two of the men rush forward and grab my arms, holding me in place while I scream in horror.
“Be quiet. The deal is done,” commands the leader.
“Please, there has to be something else I can do — I need to go home — there are two little girls who need me,” I plead, tears burning in my eyes. “How long do I have to stay here? They’re hungry and alone! You have to let me go, please!”
“Want me to shut her up, boss?” growls the man on my right.
“We can soften her up for the client, break her in a little,” offers the man on my left.
The leader shakes his head. “No, no. She must be kept in pristine condition for the Bull. He will want her untouched, for certain. You know how it is. Some men like their jewels polished and set, but others prefer a diamond in the rough.”