The Bratva's Captive

The Bratva's Captive

He calls me his captive. But I’m the one holding all the secrets!

I never thought I’d surrender myself to the Russian mob.

One private dance turned into his hands all over my skin.

I can still taste the vodka on his tongue when he claimed me,

his voice rough with desire and something far more dangerous.

Now I’m trapped in his mansion, drowning in silk and sin.

Maxim Ivanov. Bratva heir. Bratva executioner.

Older. Colder. Far too powerful for a girl like me—

and yet his touch brands me like fire.

His men call him the Butcher behind closed doors.

His grandmother looks at me like I’m a stain ...