I"ve been sold by my own father to a beast.
Gleb Sokolov is the definition of a savage.
He"s an animal in bed and everywhere else.
A ruthless Russian Mafia boss, badass personified.
And my father just sold me to him, to pay off a debt.
But there"s something Gleb doesn"t know" we have a son,
and I"ll do anything to keep him from finding out.
Sassy, secretive, trouble with a capital T.
She drives me damn insane.
Except, when her father offers her to me, I find I can"t resist.
She belongs with me, even if she refuses to believe it.
Eva hates me, but I"ll go to the ends of the earth to protect her.
Problem is, Eva"s father isn"t the only one with debts
and mine are the kind I"ll need to pay with my own blood.
A fast-paced Mafia Romance that will melt your heart.Books by Author:S.C. Daiko Books
Two Years Ago
I cross my arms above my head, closing my eyes and swaying my body in time to the throbbing bass rhythm. The upbeat vibe of the dance music and the screwdriver cocktail I just drank are making me feel good… not so out of place as I was feeling a couple of minutes ago. Lure has got to be the swankiest club I’ve ever been in; not that I’ve been in many. Opulently decorated and oozing style, so freaking exclusive they use face recognition to let you in. I’m here only because my bestie, Tamara, is dating one of the Russian bouncers; we wouldn’t have gotten past the doorman otherwise.
The stench of male sweat alerts me to the presence of someone invading my space; I open my eyes. "Back off," I glare at the random getting a little too up-close-and-personal. Thick red hair slicked back from a domed forehead, he gives me the ‘wanna hook-up"’ look, dark eyes heavy with lust.
Not my type.
I curl my lip with disgust, flip him the bird and head for the bar.
Where the hell is Tamara"
Glancing around for my bestie, I make my way past beautiful people sitting on dark leather chairs at candle-lit tables. I perch on a stool at the far end of the room, the skirt of my black lace dress riding up embarrassingly high. Another thing; it’s not even my dress but Tamara’s. Can’t remember the last time I wore anything other than jeans. I work long hours as a server in an Italian restaurant to pay my way through school, and glamorous outfits are not part of my budget.
I’ll kill Tamara when I find her. Not literally, but I’m so angry I could spit. How dare she bail on me!
Dammit, this was supposed to be my night; it was her idea we came here to celebrate my twenty-first birthday.
With a heavy sigh, I order a second screwdriver and knock it back.
"Can I get you another drink"" the voice is heavily accented, the hard consonants revealing the speaker to be from the country where I was born.
Yikes, the random from the dance floor.
I decline, thanking him in my first language, "Net, spasibo.”
He switches into Russian. "Don’t be like that." He eyes me up and down. "Name your price, Kitten."
I move my head away, a strand of dark hair falling across my cheek. "What do you mean""
"How much for the whole night"" he leans into me.
I let out a gasp. "I’m not a hooker."
"A sexy girl in here on her own"" His lewd smirk makes me nauseous. "Could have fooled me."
I fight the urge to grab him by the balls. "Sorry to disappoint you.” I lie sweetly. “My boyfriend will be here in a minute. In the meantime, I need to go to the bathroom.”
Without a backward glance, I slide off the stool and head toward a door to the left of the bar.
The random laughs mockingly behind my back, making the hair on my neck prickle. I pause at the door and turn around to give him the finger, but he’s already gone.
Letting out a relieved breath, I step over threshold into what I’m fully expecting to be the rest room. Except I find myself in a corridor, plush carpeting under my feet.
Without warning, my head starts to spin. Shit, I shouldn’t have drunk that cocktail so fast. I can’t see any signs indicating the ladies. Maybe I can escape for a few minutes behind one of these doors" I’m not that desperate to pee, just need somewhere peaceful to sit and wait for my mind to clear.
I walk into an office unlike any I’ve been in before. Ritzy, with an executive desk in the center the size of my bed at home. My eyes are immediately drawn to a stack of banknotes on top of the shiny surface. I tiptoe across the room.
Wow, it’s a pile of one-hundred-dollar bills.
I pick one up to examine it.
Surely these can’t be real"
“What the fuck are you doing in here"” booms a baritone voice.
The air around me compresses, and I spin around.
A man in a tux is standing in the doorway, piercing blue eyes glowering at me. He’s so big his shoulders nearly meet the doorjambs.
And he’s drawn a freaking gun!
“I was looking for the bathroom.” I drop the money back on the table, my heartbeat thudding in my ears.
Blue Eyes paces up to me; he holsters his firearm and grabs my wrist. “Who sent you to snoop"” His English is good, but I detect a familiar intonation. “Was it Vadim Rayt"” he adds.
“No one sent me,” I blurt out in Russian. “I’m telling the truth.”
I try to squirm out of Blue Eyes’ hold, but he pulls me against his rock-hard chest, towering above me and invading my senses with his spicy sandalwood cologne.