Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
God, that was hot.
The wet glide along my flesh was more sexual than anything I could have ever imagined.
“Look at me.”
I pried my eyes open, not realizing I’d even closed them. Dmitry’s presence just had that effect on me, where all common sense and rationality flew out the window. Hell, it had probably gone right out the one behind me as soon as he stepped inside the shed and closed us in together.
When I looked up at him, all I saw was fierce need reflected in his gaze. His jaw was tight, with dark scruff covering his cheeks and chin. I found it immensely sexy that this man was reining in his control. Because of me.
And then as if everything happened in slow motion, he sank down. My heart beat overtime, faster than I even thought possible given it already felt like a racehorse lived in my chest cavity.
“W-what are you doing?”
He looked up at me with fire burning in his gaze and let his fingers skate over the back of my legs, up my thighs, and tightened the digits around my pleated skirt.
My inner muscles clenched, shooting a shock wave of unadulterated lust straight to my center.
“Getting a proper taste of you.” His accent was thicker, his voice deeper.
THE PAST
Chapter 1
Claudia
FIFTEEN YEARS OLD
If my father knew what I was doing, he’d slap me across the face so hard I’d have a red mark there for days.
But even knowing I’d be punished if caught, I still snuck down the stairs, following the deep timbre of voices that came from my father’s office.
My sister’s words played in my head, a warning, a scold, whenever I did something that would get me in trouble.
“Claudia, you have a fire in your veins that is going to get you hurt. Listen to Father. Tread lightly with him. I know you live by your own rules, and as much as I love you for it, I’m also worried about you because of the world we live in. If a woman won’t be submissive to the men in our lives…”
Right before I reached the bottom of the stairs, the grandfather clock chimed so loudly I froze, my heart jumping into my throat.
I was sure I’d get spotted. Even if the foyer was shadowy, all the staff had gone for the evening, and my father was in his office.
The clock chimed twelve times, signaling midnight had hit, and as soon as that last bell went off, I quickly descended the rest of the stairs and started making my way down the hallway.
I kept to the wall, my hands running over the textured damask wallpaper my father had imported from Italy. I slipped into the small room beside my father’s office, moved over to the French doors, and quietly opened one of them.
Light spilled out of the open patio doors from the room beside me, and I heard a deep, thickly accented voice fill the night air.
“You know this is the best option for both families.”
There was a long pause, and then I heard some shuffling.
“And you can guarantee an alliance if I give you Amara?”
“She isn’t for me. She’ll be given to my younger brother, Nikolai.”
“Why wouldn’t I give her to you, the eldest?” My father sounded annoyed.
“My brother stands at my side and runs the Desolation Bratva. This is the only option for you and your daughter. But I can guarantee that the Bratva, aligning with the East Coast Cosa Nostra, will have unbreakable ties.”
My heart pounded as I listened. Although it wasn’t unusual for arranged marriages, they were talking about giving Amara away, not just to an Italian man in the circles our family ran with, but with the Russians. And the only thing I’d ever heard my father or anyone else in the Cosa Nostra say about the Russians was that they were barbarians and savages. Never to be trusted.
I realized I had my hand over my heart, the organ beating hard and fast. What I felt was fear. Terror for my sister, who had just been given away to a man who would be worse than my father.
It was bad enough we were bartered off like pawns to other criminals within the Cosa Nostra, but this? This was madness. He was giving my sister away as if she were a piece of meat.
“So, do we have a deal or not, Marco?”
It was the one I now knew was Russian who spoke, his accent so thick his words were almost indistinguishable. And I had a feeling it had to do with his annoyance over my father.
This man—if he was like any of the other men in my life—was used to getting what he wanted. They were used to people abiding by what they said without hesitation. My father continuously pausing, questioning him, was most definitely an insult.